It's strange. I'm always hyper-aware of the date. I've thought about it many times in recent weeks. Heck, I thought about it yesterday! And yet, somehow, it took me until 6:30 tonight, while making dinner, to realize. I saw the expiration date on a package of chicken and gasped: It's April 26.
Seventeen years have passed since Jeremy died. And this is, to my recollection, the first time I almost forgot the day we lost him. Of course I could never actually forget the date, but I nearly missed recognizing the date today.
When we visited Southern California earlier this month, we stopped by the cemetery with Delilah so she could "meet" her uncle. I know he isn't there and I truly believe he saw her — celebrated her — the moment she was born. Yet I still felt a desire to stop by his grave. But I kept it quick. I had mascara on! We had places to be, people to see, and I knew if I lingered too long or spoke the words in my heart that the tears would start and they'd be hard to stop.
It goes without saying but I'll say it anyway. Jeremy, I miss you. Even when I almost forget to stop and think about how much I miss you, I miss you. (I blame today on mom brain, for real.) You were a wonderful son, brother, friend... And I know you would have been an amazing uncle if given the chance. That's what hurts the most sometimes, that those joys were stolen from you, from us, from Delilah. Life isn't fair and there's no good reason for you to be gone... and yet life goes on, just as you would want it I suppose. When Delilah is older, she will hear about her Uncle Jeremy, because grief has not silenced your name or memory. You are still living in the hearts and minds of those who loved you and that will never change, no matter how many years pass ... or how busy our days get. Love you always.
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(P.S. Last year's post.)
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