Tomorrow is March. I don’t have to look at a calendar to know, I can feel it. The exhaustion, avoidance, sadness and dread has already taken over my body. Paul feels it too. He asked me last night why he was so tired. I just replied, “it’s almost March.”

Grief is personal, random and undoubtedly changes.

For me, the first year was a blur. Dates and situations were triggers.
While I’ve come along way in terms of dates, there are always some that will stick with me… forever. My one dear friend still texts me every 30th of the month to say she is thinking of me and Shane.

In the second year, time softened the sharp edges of pain, but the sadness was greater. The realization was that THIS was our forever. Shane’s story has much sadness to it, but out of the sadness we have created greatness. For that, we are proud.

I was also pregnant (worrying, yet celebrating cautiously) and our first fur baby Monty was really sick. Dare I say it, but his symptoms were eerily similar to Shane’s. The hunger strikes, the celebrations at the little bits of food he could tolerate, his jaundice, his fatigue. It was too much to handle during such a sensitive time. I can say that now. It was really a lot to handle emotionally.

This year, I don’t know how I feel. Overwhelmed and distracted come to mind. Will needs me, but it’s not even March and I want to hide. I have lots to do, especially for the foundation, yet there are always things popping up and distracting me.

I see it in my husband and kids too. Ella asked just yesterday after dinner….”Do you think he will survive?” She meant Will. I’m not going to lie, it’s a hard one to deal with it.

It’s not the first time this topic has come up. It’s been naturally happening since my pregnancy. Honestly, I do tumor checks every time I change his diaper. I question myself on how old he will be when I can STOP doing it.

Our new family dynamic, grief, foundation events and angelversaries….March will be filled with many posts.

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