Seven years

So much has happened, so much time has passed.

And yet, every time September 25 rolls around I can't help but feel the same ache I felt seven years ago, like I'd been punched so hard the wind was knocked out of me and I couldn't breathe. I know she wouldn't want me to be sad, but sometimes I can't help it. I just miss her, and I miss her in my life. I started crying over my french fries at lunch today; and then laughed at the idiocy of it.

I brought her more sunflowers tonight, a gift from Cami, Haleigh and myself. Tears streamed down my face as I drove past the other graves to an all-too-familiar spot, and I was afraid to get out the car, sure I would lose my composure. But I took a deep breath and reminded myself that it was a privilege to pay homage to her memory in this way; not everyone who loves her lives close enough to have this privilege. So, for Cami and Haleigh, I got out of the car.

And something happened as I opened my car door. I was filled with peace; love and understanding and patience and courage and long-suffering poured over my soul and took the pain away. The sadness wasn't gone, but the sharp pain was. My life will go on, her life will go on. Some day we'll be reunited., of that there is no doubt in my mind. But until then, I will visit every Fall, with sunflowers in hand. I will grow old and gray and wrinkly. But I'll still come. If only to feel again that beautiful peace I felt this evening.