This past Wednesday, it was two years to the day that my mother died. I think we need to recognize and acknowledge these "death days" as well, even if it's only quietly, in our hearts. I'm saddened to realize that I don't remember what day it was when my father died, except I think it was the beginning of June.
I've been holding things together pretty well, even feeling pretty cheerful a bit of the time, but today a particularly perceptive friend at work asked me if I was okay and I nearly broke down. So I realized that I'm pretty much okay by dint of running faster than I can feel.
And that doesn't change the fact that I'm looking forward to tomorrow, and Monday, when I shall be 52 years old, and those who are going to celebrate with me tomorrow need not worry that I'll be sunk in gloom. I shan't.
I just needed to stop and feel for a moment. Then I'll move on.