August, September, October, November, December. The unhappiest time of year around these parts.
It's been a year and three months and 6 days. It feels like last week as I find myself reliving why I didn't make those sugar cookies during her last Christmas. Why I didn't harass her in June to go get that "wheezing" checked out. Why in May I didn't learn to quilt with her before she wasn't able.
I thought last year would be the worst. It's not.
It has finally sunk in. She's not coming back. And I say to myself, well, you know there's really never a "good time to die" and we want to hold on to our loved ones for as long as we can...but it still feels so unfair.
August. Mom. September. George. October. My birthday. November. Thanksgiving. December. Christmas Eve.
I need this year to be over already. I've never felt this tired before.