One wonders how much time should pass before one is able to remember without breaking down, before the pain becomes less acute, before an absence becomes more tolerable or easier to bear. Sadly however I believe that there is no right and wrong answer for that, much less an answer that will be acceptable to one’s senses.
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I am proud of how my family has, in their own ways, drawn strength from within their souls to move on. I know that they hurt and ache as much as I, but somehow they seem to bear the loss much more admirably. Were it possible for me to take on the life of a hermit, or to hibernate in much the same way as certain species do, I would gladly take it. But I exist in a world of the here and now, where I am expected to find the courage to move on with my life.
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In wonderment I watch my baby grow day by day, listen to her soft cries, feel her warmth as I hold her in my arms, and I am thankful that in her tiny being I am anchored to my present. She is my hope for a future that need not be as incomplete.