...and with each tick, the pit in my stomach grows, my heart aches a little more. One second closer to another year gone. One step farther out from having held our little girl in our arms. One more moment since her heart made a final beat. How did 2 years pass? It's a bitter pill to swallow to know that every year, for the entire rest of my life, April 2 will freeze time. I will be a little old lady, Lord willing, making my way to the cemetary to visit my girl just as I did this morning. We brought her some fresh pink azaleas from the bush out front; they still had dew on them. The sun was bright on her spot today but I can feel my heart sinking with each passing moment. Each minute until 11:20 am tomorrow will be a "last" from 2 years ago.
I had someone say to me this week, "that must've been a hard day". And a hard day it was, but the ones after that were worse and now, two years out, there are still hard days. The hardest ones are the ones that I allow a little acceptance of our reality in. This is it. For all I have and all I'm blessed with, she's missing. A vital, needed member of our family is missing. These are her days, the days to remember. The boys will help me remember and I will teach them. I'm sure they know far more than I could begin to fathom. I will always have my memories and they'll take from their sister more than a flashback from a certain smell but an engrained knowledge from a very young age and for our rainbow boy, even from birth. What a gift my children have given each other; the boys will give her a legacy and she will give them knowledge distinct to that of a bereaved family. May each of them wear it well.
Behind every smile, there are tears and behind every tear, there are smiles.