I once described my life after Zechariah died as a puzzle with about a million pieces. Someone took it, shook it up and threw all the pieces on the floor, then told me to put it back together without so much as a picture. And to make it even more diffucult they took some of the pieces out of my puzzle. Now, almost six year later I stand back and look at my puzzle. My puzzle doesn't look like it did before Zechariah's death. I have struggled, fought and grown to duck tape my puzzle back together and make it look as whole as possible. But there are pieces that will never be part of the puzzle again. And while I am thankful for all the pieces intact in my puzzle, sometimes it is diffucult to ignore the missing pieces. Those missing pieces are the ones I see and miss the most.