Anniversary.

That word is usually preceded by the word happy, which in this case does not apply. There is nothing to celebrate this anniversary, no congratulations to be handed out. It is more a day of reflection. It has been a year. A full year. That is more than a quarter of my youngest daughter's entire life. I think psychologically I have been preparing for this day for the last few weeks. I recently attended a memorial service for a friend and it seemed that tears were constantly brimming. I was sad for her, I was sad for the family, my friends. I was also just sad. Sad that these things keep happening. Wondering how much people can endure. In the course of this one year, I have lost my grandfather, an uncle, two friends, and my concious husband. That is more loss in one year than I have seen in the last decade. I am tired, exhausted really. Today was a day I felt the weight of it all. I remember with such vivid detail, the phone call I recieved one year ago this morning. I remember packing up the girls and heading down the hill, not having any idea the journey that I was about to embark on. I certainly would have never envisioned being here. The girls had no idea that today was any different than any other. We stayed home. The first full day home in awhile. I cleaned and sorted, often my thoughts a million miles away. I did hair, buttoned dresses, tied bows and buckled shoes, but my mind was on that fork in the road, and the path that was chosen for us. I spoke to only a couple of people, most probably not remembering the significance of the day. It was quiet. I was quiet. And when the girls were finally asleep. I cried. I am crying still as I write this and finally give form to the thoughts that have been tumbling through my mind all day. It is as if the emotion has been compressed tightly in a ball, and has suddenly exploded, almost bursting from my skin. It is almost tangible. Certainly painful. It is the anniversary.