What is a year?

A year is 365 days. It’s a birthday, an Easter, a Thanksgiving, an anniversary, a Christmas. It’s a time to heal, realizing I have scars from the slip and slide with you 25 years ago, and your scar changed my life. When you left, I never thought I’d be where I am today; functioning. I remember the first month, barely able to get out of bed. Struggling to maintain what I’d worked so hard for. Then the summer crying at work when my coworkers didn’t know. Maybe they did. Then came the fall, your favorite season, as well as mine. Your birthday was my worst day. I’ve made it through every milestone, except a year. The hurt is dull, the sudden loneliness when I think of you is real. I want to share with you. My life, our life, your life. I know you listen, and I know you are watching us all. A year tells me, it will be my lifetime before you can respond. What’s a year? A year is shorter than the sum of all the days. As some seemed like they’d never end, we are suddenly here at this moment. A year is a new start. Less mourning, more mornings. I will surely fail throughout this year, but it will pass quicker than the last. Then next year will be better. I cannot wait to see you, but since I cannot seem to measure what a year is, then perhaps when I do see you, it will seem like no time at all. I love you and miss you Heather. Smile you’re going to be an aunt.