Even the definition doesn't seem to be enough:
v. missed, miss·ing, miss·es
1. To fail to hit, reach, catch, meet, or otherwise make contact with.
2. To fail to perceive, understand, or experience: completely missed the point of the film.
3. To fail to accomplish, achieve, or attain (a goal).
4. To fail to attend or perform: never missed a day of work.
a. To leave out; omit.
b. To let go by; let slip: miss a chance.
6. To escape or avoid: narrowly missed crashing into the tree.
7. To discover the absence or loss of: I missed my book after getting off the bus.
8. To feel the lack or loss of: Do you miss your family?
I fail to reach him. I fail to experience a life with him. I fail to accomplish getting him to adulthood and all the little things along the way like kissing his boo-boos, washing his cloth, teaching him to read, to write. I fail to attend the life he should have. I fail to perform as his mother. He's been omitted from my life. Every day is another way of discovering how his death has left a void in our life.
I don't know how to live with such a huge void, such a huge ache, forever and ever until I die. Yet so far I've managed to make it through every day without him. I have no clue how. I have no clue how I've lived this many hours and days, and taken how every many breaths, and my heart has pumped however many times since he died and yet it was yesterday.
I miss him. I wish I could articulate what that means, the weight of that, the hurt of that. I can't explain it. I've been away from the kids before and missed them, but that was absolutely NOTHING compared. I miss him because of how much I love him, my love didn't die with him it just keeps getting bigger. Just like it has every year for each of my boys, it just grows so much bigger than I could have ever imagine.
I miss him. I miss Bram. Bram. A name I thought I'd be saying constantly now only mentioned here and there. Yet I never hear it. I never hear it outside of my home. I see it, but seeing and hearing are so different. I want him back.