Long Days, Short Years

I’ve been really missing Rory lately.

There will be moments that I’m okay.

Then the next moment a memory will come to me and I have to do everything in my power to not completely breakdown.

It’s reoccurring.

And reoccurring.

I think the adage for toddlers is true for grief.

“The days are long but the years are short.”

The minutes of the day can drag. It’s exhausting to miss someone. To yearn for them. To search for peace. To search for joy.

But by the end of November 13th, we’d survived two years without her.

There were so many days where I thought the grief might win.

When I thought I couldn’t do it anymore and wished I could curl up in my bed and disappear.

Those days are long.

But it’s been two years now.

The twins have out grown me.

Dax’s feet are bigger than mine.

The twins are driving.

They’re liking girls.

Two years.

They go by fast.

So much changes.

But the days have felt pretty long.

Missing her.