I persist

 I persist in a struggle with the coming new year. It's a new year without a kind of hope; the hope that I will see Andrew, that I'll be able to hug him, talk to him about when he was a small child. To share a Christmas, a birthday, to see that smile light up his face. I'll be able to have a future as well as a present with him. It's hard to look forward to a future without the hope of him in it. 

You may be thinking, I should be "over" this, whatever that means. But I don't know if I ever will be. That's my form of acceptance. Letting myself ache to hold him in my arms again. To hug him. It hurts. It's better for me to say it than to leave those words inside. The feeling, the words take on a weight pressing down on my heart. When I say them, there is a lightening. Its not much but you know, when you're in pain, every bit helps. 

Also, though a poor transition to a paragraph, I woke up today to a huge wave of gratitude. For my crazy, beautiful, awful, bewildering, sweet and bittersweet life. Thank you. Thank you.