I know (but so much still to learn)

Why did they show me his face?
(A broad smile; a child charming the camera. Adorable.)
Why do I remember it?
Why do I see his smile still?

All those dates that I have banished. I have done so well. I do not mark a day out for grieving, because of ‘this time last year / two years ago / three years ago'.
I have let go.

But his date of birth was written in huge font across the top of his details, just under the words ‘Urgently seeking adoption’. Just above his picture. I shan’t forget his birthday. Or his picture.

I know his name.
I know about his birth parents, and what he is likely to inherit from them.
I know the colour of his hair.
I know the colour of his eyes.
I know when he was ‘taken into care’.
I know what state he was in when they took him in.
I know what he likes to eat.
I know he is already walking.

I know I shall never know him.
He will never know me.
I know another kind of grief.

But I know I will let go of this little boy too.
I know that never mind what was meant to be, this is what is, and I can’t change that.

I am getting over it.
You do, you know.
Well, I do, I know.