Three Years

Monday will be three years. It is hard to even begin to wrap my mind around that fact.

As with all things I guess, the grief over these last three years has gotten easier. Not because I miss her less, but because I have grown more accustom to the missing.

But on these days, days like Monday or even days like today, days full of heartbreaking memories, I get sucked back into the depths of that grief.

Yesterday Henry and I were walking to get candy for his Valentines and I said something about his Aunt Mimi.  He asked me how old Aunt Mimi was when she died, and I said she was 30.  "How is that even possible?" he asked. I just looked at him and said "I don't know baby. Sometimes it happens, but it is very rare."

Sometimes people die too soon. I wish he didn't have to know that. I wish I didn't either.