One Year Later

I'm well aware of how I work through things by putting them down in words. So forgive me if this comes across a little jumbled. I haven't worked it out in my head in advance, it's just going to be what it is.

It was a year ago that I sat down to write this.  A post that I never wanted to write. A moment that's slowed down and played over in my mind regularly. The crisp fallness of the day. The kitchen floor as I slumped down to it. The catch in my brother's voice. The way I cried in the front yard until a man drove by that recognized Pete and stopped to talk, so I went inside. The split second decisions. The email to my boss. The drive. The house. The bed where she died. The fear that she might still be there when I got there. The sinking feeling in my stomach. The avoidance. The hurt.

I've had days of self-pity, days where I abandon all that is good in my life and focus on the tragedy that occurred. I've had days where I celebrate her, days I bake with the kitchen aide I took from her house and think of the joy she had for baking. There are times when I think about how my memories of her make me want to be a better mom, one that will give Addy memories as sweet as mine.

Throughout the year I've told you of my grief. The way it sneaks up on me at unexpected times. But tonight, I just want to say that my life is full. Full of good and beautiful people, and I try very hard everyday to choose to find joy. Nothing can replace my mom, but I'm clinging to the hope that we will be reunited again in our Father's House one day. On that day, I know that all our sorrow, all our pain, will be washed away.