I was looking through our new family calendar, the one my sisters and I create each year. The top page of each month has a picture of everyone who has a birthday; this month there is a special square for my mom, my brother in law, Isaiah, and one for me.
As I flipped the pages, I came to October, and it hit me that Kalkidan will never have a birthday again. Never again will I choose a new picture of her for her special page. I know I should be getting used to this, but I’m not.
For 2016 we chose a picture of me with the three youngest kids dressed in orange on Kalkidan’s birthday. We haven’t forgotten her, but it’s not the same.
It’s hard for me to acknowledge that one day, the pictures we have of her will appear dated and obviously old. Right now, her picture is on the wall with all the others, and, if I wanted to, I could pretend it was taken last month. If a stranger came to my home, they would not realize she was gone.
One day that won’t be the case.
She was in my dream last night. That hasn’t happened many times since the accident. Nothing unusual happened in the dream; we were in a restaurant. I don’t really remember much, but she was there, and when I woke up, I could still hear her voice.
There were people who told me that the second year would be harder than the first. I didn’t believe them, but I’m beginning to think they are right.
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I’m going to meet a friend for a walk this morning – it’s raining, but I’m from Seattle so it won’t bother me much, besides, it matches how I feel this moment. Have a wonderful day, friends.
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