We spent the past four days in bed, and somehow today is different. I still don’t understand these things, these echoes on a calendar. I almost think what matters more is seeing who you would have been. We are walking, walking, surrounded by children. I smile, and I wonder — could that ever have been you?
I’m glad I got out of bed today. I like watching the water. There’s a guy beyond the ice plant, painting on the rocks. I remember sitting here last year, feeling overwhelmed and sad. It was hard. Your memorial was so much build-up and then over. I’m glad this year was quieter.
I’m lying in bed now, sore and sleepy, your sleeping sister on my chest. There’s so much about this new world I wish you could have known. Mostly I’m just glad to have known you, and also sad at what you’re missing. Beautiful and complicated, it’s all starting to fit.
I love you.
Love,
Mom
