|The adorable Miller cowpersons, Michael Charles Miller |
and Patti Susanne Miller (before I came
along for them to pick on.) ;-D
As I'm writing this after Sunday's midnight has carried me into Monday the 11th of March, I feel relief.
The relief comes from knowing all the Firsts I lived through in this past year since my sister Patti died are now over.
The First birthday without her voice on the phone. The First Thanksgiving, the First Christmas. Her First birthday without her presence, daughter Cori's birthday where I tried (semi-successfully) to make the amazing chocolate birthday cake Patti's husband Keith would make for her. And the First weekend one year after she left us Saturday the 10th last year, her peacefully in her sleep, and leaving the rest of us sleepless in the missing her.
No, I don't think for a second that the pain of missing her is over, or that I'll stop thinking, "Oh! I need to tell Patti--" I know better. But I do know the pain that knocked me head over heels like a harsh wind on all those Firsts has spent some of its power in this past year. That same wind will still blow, but I look forward to the gentler breezes of the future as the grief-storm slowly calms.
But I'll likely always still cry a little and smile when in my head I tell her, "I love you!" and I hear her warm voice answer, "I love you more!"
Skimmer's Recap: I think that since the last year has been a crash course in "Suck" that God should give me a pass for the next few years at least. (Pretty please, God?)