It always hits me like a ton of bricks, this holiday season. One minute, it's just a normal day and then boom! It's Christmas. And if it's Christmas, that means it's almost one more year since Jen has been gone.
Seven years.
She has been gone seven years.
My niece was an infant when she died. I remember my sister-in-law thrusting her, 3 months old, into my arms as I sat, shell-shocked.
Pixie was still with us. I remember her climbing up onto the bed with me, licking my tears off my cheeks.
I was married to Larry. He was a trouper that week, managing flights and rental cars and trying to understand how he could help me.
I remember the morning of the funeral, her husband looking at me and saying "I don't know what to do now. For the past week, I've been trying to get to here. What do I do now?" And I remember thinking that I had no earthly idea.
I still don't.
What do we do now?
My life has changed so much since then. I've had a child, gotten divorced, stopped working and then started again, gotten engaged (again!), and mostly just kind of gotten on with the business of my life.
You know what I haven't done? I haven't forgotten. Not one bit. I still hear her laugh, and smell her perfume. I still can picture her crooked smile, her twinkling eyes, her fesity-ness. I remember how tough she was and how good she was and how brave she was and how smart she was. I remember how much I loved her and respected her. I remember how much it meant to me to be her best friend, and how easy it was that she was mine.
I miss her.
And I'd give almost anything to have had more time with her.
I wasn't ready to say good-bye. I'm still not.
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