It's here again. It comes every year so it shouldn't be a surprise, but somehow it creeps up on me every year. This year, it seems even more so. With all of the chaos of getting ordained, I haven't really thought about it. But, here it is. It's the week. It's the week that leads to the anniversary of my mother's anniversary. This coming Friday marks the twentieth anniversary.
As I was talking with my aunt last week (my mother's eldest sister), I asked that she not visit until after this day had passed. I had to get through February 2nd first. She was dismayed that this was still a problem. That was her word. Still. As if the pain somehow dissolves with time. It's not like that. Maybe it is for some. Maybe it does go away with time. Sure, it gets easier. I have found ways to cope. I have found rituals to mark the passage of time and fill the hole in my heart. But, it doesn't go away. It is indeed still there. Still.
It still hurts. And here I am in this week. Still. Still hurting. Still grieving. Still hurting. Still missing.