Today I have anniversaries on the brain, of both the wonderful and horrible variety. About one month ago we celebrated five years of being the parents of Olivia, our precious bundle from Ukraine. In May my hubby and I celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary. In July we helped our little Nate the Great blow out four candles on his Carvel ice cream cake. And, also in July, I thought of my mom, who passed away in July 2005. I still think of her every day, but in the summer, just when the heat starts to suffocate and the asphalt is enough to make every TV reporter fry an egg on the sidewalk, her presence is stronger than ever for me.
Society tells us that two years is plenty of time to be over a thing, but I think for my dad and me, and possibly Olivia too, it took at least a year to go through the cycle of shock, anger and disbelief, and now we just plain miss her. I just think it's so unfair that she didn't get to see the kids grow up (um, did I say I was over the anger part?) but I'd like to believe that she still sees us every day. And I hope we make her proud.
