365

365 days that have seemed like an eternity. The year that made the 26 I had with you seem like a blur.

It was a year of firsts, but not in the good way. Not in the wobbly first steps, first snow of the season, first kiss kind of way. It was my first birthday without you, the first Christmas I didn't hear you say, "Merry Christmas, you old Building and Loan!', the first time I needed help with my car and couldn't call you, the first year I didn't want to celebrate Father's day. I never could have pictured my wedding day without you.

Andy and I finished Sons of Anarchy a few weeks ago. I lost it. Over a TV show! How unfair it was that you never got to see the ending! Silly, I know. I probably would have cried if you were still here, and you would have made fun of me and brought up that time I cried when we beat that one video game we had played together. That thought made me smile. But, I really think you would have been satisfied with the ending of Sons. It was perfect.

Only a year. I can't even begin to think about what has changed in a year! How much the kids have grown. You wouldn't even recognize Wren, but oh I promise you would melt over her perfect smile, and her little voice navigating those first handful of words. She would have you just absolutely wrapped around her finger. She does that, with those big beautiful eyes of hers. And Isla she was almost still a baby last you saw her. Not anymore, at all. You would be in a constant state of laughing at her or tearing your hair out. How did such a big personality get into that little girl, I will never know. I know that I'm really lucky to have her. She is my reminder everyday to laugh. Even on the roughest of days, she makes me appreciate the silly things and I'll never be able to thank her enough for that. Your buddy, Jamie is FOUR. How did that happen? He was just a little newborn napping on your belly, I swear. Some days, I feel like I'm failing him. I feel like I'm not giving him what he needs, that I don't know what he needs. I need you to tell me he's perfect and I'm doing a good job. Because he is, and I'm really really trying. He is so smart, that kid. He asked me recently, "Mommy, did Simba's daddy go to heaven like Pa? And Reagan?" I wish you were here to try to convince me that it is perfectly acceptable for a four year old to ride a motorcycle.

I need you to know that you're with us always. When Jennifer and I jump started my car by ourselves and were thrilled we hadn't electrocuted ourselves, you were there laughing. When Mom swore at us for tricking her into climbing a mountain (again), you were there rooting her on (and laughing). When out of nowhere, I'm hit with the absolute anguish of missing you and wishing for nothing but one of your hugs that felt like home. Some days the waves of pain are aching and relentless and the memories of the day you died never cease to leave me broken hearted. 365 days is a long time to live with a broken heart.

I know that grief is the price of love. The pain is so strong because the love we have for you is. I try to remember to be thankful for 26 years of that love, even when I'm so sad and angry that I didn't get another year, two years, ten. I should have gotten at least ten more years of your love and wisdom. 

I don’t know when the last time was that I told you I love you. I have spent a year trying to remember. 365 days. Love is something we always take for granted and over time, more and more, we forget the importance of saying the words. I hope you know how much I love you. How much I miss you.

Know that every day for the rest of my life, you’ll be alive in my heart.