By my side

Bram's sister had her son on my son's birthday. They named him Bram, of course. I haven't met the little guy yet. I'm a bit afraid to. Never mind the messy family stuff and how much I dread dealing with Bram's mom. I dread saying his name. It is still too new, too fresh for me. I am glad that Bram's family has arrived at the point where they can name this child Bram in honor and remembrance of his amazing uncle. I understand the point. But I just don't know if I can say the name.
So of course I have been thinking about Bram a lot lately. Let's be truthful: I always think about Bram. It's as if he is a presence at my side. A different kind of presence. 'Cause he was always by my side.
Before I go to sleep, in an attempt to calm and quelch the racing thoughts that keep me up all night (that were kept at bay by Bram sleeping by my side), I think of happy times with Bram, happy places we visited, happy houses we lived in... In these memories, I don't get a lot of Bram's face. What I have is a memory of him standing/sitting/lying beside me, talking in my ear, close so I could feel his breath, almost like he was telling me secrets.
The close ear talking was Bram's solution to dealing with my deafness, but it always felt so intimate, so special, so... I don't know; it made our life a secret from others. I helped him see. He helped me hear. And most of my memories are of Bram beside me. Holding my hand. Talking in my ear. Playing with my hair. Kissing my head and my hands. Always by my side.