Friday marked the passing of another year for WM and I, you see we share the same birthday. It also marked one month since the event that eventually took our bitty girl to that place where she is free. Our first holiday without Sophie. It was bittersweet to say the very least. Amid the celebration there were tears. It couldn't be helped. Sometimes, they were choked back while everyone else laughed around the dinner table, joking about who was going to pick up the check. When I was alone, they came in body-wracking, hysterical sobs, a performance worthy of an Oscar.
This new year came quietly, tip toeing in from among the night's shadows. It found me by myself, curled up with a blanket and a book on Sophie's corner of the couch. Grief and sleep do not make good bedfellows. There have been many sleepless nights such as this. Not yet countless, yet enough that the number is significant.
With morning, came the hours set aside for picking the finishes for our new house. It will be beautiful. And red. WM thought I was joking when I said I wanted a red house. I wasn't. Not one bit.
|A few of our selections from the design center. |
Especially loving the cherry cabinets, hickory floor and the tile for the fireplace surround.
|This is my bleu cheese crusted fillet. Tasty. Very tasty.|
Throughout the day, we received phone calls and text messages and emails and snail mail, the sentiment of which was nearly always the same-hope for a better year. While year 35 was turbulent and marked with sad and unspeakably horrible things, I learned more and grew more than in the other 34 years combined. And I loved. I loved with every ounce of my being, and when that wasn't enough, I loved some more.