I see my husband in my son in small ways: the way he rolls up his long sleeved shirts, the set of his jaw when he is annoyed or determined to do something he really wants to accomplish and the way he plays chicken with his car’s gas tank and won’t fill it up until it is almost empty.
When I see those traits it is bittersweet: they make me laugh and but they also make me feel a little sad and wistful. “He is still with us,” I think to myself. My husband had a very strong personality so
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