4 years today.

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.