The last January 4th of her life. I am unsure what to even say about those words.
Today was one of those days in grief where I was able to talk about her literally all day, even look at pictures of the last few weeks of her life, and not flinch. That doesn't say or mean much because 4 minutes from now I could be a puddle of tears from writing this post or looking at the picture above. That is fun part of living with grief.
This evening I was asked the ages of the kids, I honestly couldn't even figure out her age. In less than a month it will be 3 years since her death, and her birthday being a week after makes it the 4th birthday (we will honor without her here), meaning she should be turning 8. But in my mind, she will always be 4. A lot of bereaved moms refer to their child as their "forever age", I have never been a fan of doing that. As her 8th birthday and 4th without me inches closer, it's a punch to my gut that it doesn't matter how many years pass by, she will forever and always be forever 4. Stating that fact makes her absence and death more difficult to process. Probably the subconscious reason I have never been a fan of the saying.
God, keep my head above water
Don't let me drown, it gets harder