It’s August 29.
Again.
For the 3rd time since the day became significant.
I actually find myself without a lot to say about it this year, but it’s not the kind of thing I can just glaze over either. If only it were that simple. I heard from many people who told me that the first 3 years were the hardest, that after that point I would have somehow magically integrated the experience or something.
In many ways this is very true, it certainly doesn’t hurt like it used to. I’m not thinking about it all the time like I used to. I’m not sad about it like I used to be.
But it still hurts.
I still think about it.
And today, I’m still sad about it.