Yesterday was a day. 36 years since my sister died. Even when I don't consciously acknowledge the date, something in me always feels it. It's a current running through my family. A mark of something you get through, but never get over. It started off emotionally burbly, which makes sense. And I was gentle with myself about it. I decided it would be a nice thing to just chill at home with HR and gather my comfort-totems. Blankets and movies and Lipton noodle soup. And then HR wanted to play games and create, and Mike got cut early from his brunch shift and we spent the day as a family. We went to the park and basked in the absolutely perfect weather, and HR ran into some of his buddies and spent an hour having fun with them and I just sat on the bench and looked around and felt still and at peace. Life abounds. Life goes on. My cousin's daughter gave birth to a healthy baby girl in the wee hours of yesterday morning and it seems a wondrous coincidence. A celebratory candle, a bright companion to the memorial flame. We honor the past and look to the future.
A quiet Sunday in September can be so many things.