When I picked up the kids from daycare yesterday, one of the women who works there asked if Maddie and Riley would be in today. "No," I said, "they will start full weeks next week."
"Oh, right," replied M.* "Well, since I won't see you tomorrow, I wanted to be sure to let you know that we'll be thinking about you extra hard, since it's an anniversary day and all."
All I could muster was a blank stare and a befuddled "Um, thank you!" I desperately tried to think of why today would be an important day. Then it dawned on me. One month since John died.
I recovered enough to add a, "That really means a lot" to my reply and accept the hug that M. offered me. Honestly, it really hadn't occurred to me that today marked the one month point. I know that the milestone dates are hard for a lot of people, but for me, today is just another day that John isn't here. It's no harder and no easier than any of the other days when he's not here. It sucks no more and it sucks no less.
I anticipate that the days that will be hard for me are ones like Father's Day. Our anniversary. The days that are just ordinary days, like today, are days of general, dull, achy grief.
One month, though, already.
I miss you, Goose. I wish you were here to see how much Maddie and Riley have grown and changed. Look! The twins got over their fear of the big bathtub and now like to splash and play in there together. I know you'd appreciate a couple of gratuitous naked baby shots.
I hope that you know that we are OK, that we are surrounded by people who love us and take care of us and make sure that we get the help and support we need. I hope you hear me talk about you all the time with the kids, that you see them wearing the outfits I know were your favorites, even as the clothes get too small. We miss you all day, every day, and we send you our love all the time.
*I suck at giving pseudonyms.