One year ago today, we said goodbye to James. When I think of it, even now, the memories are crisp and perfect. Too perfect. How could it have been a year ago? I remember a thousand tiny, horrible details I'd love to forget that rattle around in my mind, accusatory. I have read of other people who forget the details of the day, whose minds shelter them in some sort of protective haze and render the horrible moments less clear. I am envious. When I think of today, those details are the kind that come to mind first. But they shouldn't be. They represent a fraction of James' life and not even the most important parts. He must have laughed for at least a full day, for instance. Smiled for longer.
I cannot believe an entire year has passed. It seems so much quicker. It seems like he was just here yesterday. The last day seems most vivid sometimes, but that's a phantom, a trick of the mind. The last day is just a milestone, even as the details that run through my mind are punctuation marks to the end and much less significant than the end itself. Today, I will try to remember all of him. The laugh, the smile, the spiky hair. Today I will remember my son, whom I will always love. I cannot think of any better way to spend today.
Thank you all for your continued thoughts and prayers and your support over the past year.