It wasn't the first thing I thought of this morning. It was about the third, and then it was "Right...the 15th."
Right. The 15th.
I think the hardest thing to deal with today is the number: 4. 4 years. I just don't like that I now have to say (on those rare occasions when I need to), "He died 4 years ago." It is so long, and yet perfectly meaningless, because I can't understand how it can be 4 years. I feel like there's some expectation I, or others, had about it, but I can't say what that is. I'm just...here. I'm okay. If I don't think about it, I'm okay. Maybe I should stop marking these anniversaries.
As if I could.
Thanks to those who commented on my last post for your support. I really do appreciate it.