It’s looming once again. The anniversary of the worst day of my life. The day we lost Hannah. I’ve been dreading it’s arrival for weeks. The old panic returns with the anticipation, despite constantly reminding myself that it’s just a date. It changes nothing. But the threat of having to relive those events again in detail more vivid than usual is enough to set me on edge. Every day we honor Hannah. Every day we think of her and miss her. She is constantly with us in our hearts. That will never change. But on that day, we just need to put our heads down and get through it. Time eases pain and subdues panic. Every day but that day. On that day, even two years later, the hurt returns fresh and strong. A reminder that although we keep living life, although we found a different path to happiness, it will never be OK. We will never be complete. It will get easier to include Hannah in our family once Eloise and Mae are older and understand. Eloise was thankfully too tiny to understand what happened when Hannah passed. There will be a time in the not too distant future to tell her. So she and Mae will grow up always knowing about their sister. So Hannah can give them the same gift of strength and compassion and perspective that she has given me and Mike. But that time is not now. Not while Mae is still so fragile and it will be so scary for Eloise to comprehend. I already know it’s going to bother her so much. I can shelter her just a little bit longer. It’s a conversation that will be a huge relief to me…and also one that I am dreading with all of my being. So many emotions. So much swirling around September 4.
So, what are we going to do on Sunday? What is there to do. I bought her flowers. We will stay busy. Distracted. We will do something as a family. Stick together and hug each other a little tighter. Try hard not to think too much. Journal. Drink some wine. And then on Monday, the unbearable hurt will be replaced by the normal dull ache, and life will resume with our new normal once again.
I love you with all of my heart and soul, Hannah.
I have no words.
Please know that you are not alone in your grief, that you ALWAYS have our love and support, and that we are here for you and Mike whenever you need us.
Mom & Dad