Saturday is the one year anniversary of Jackie’s death.
When I think about everything that’s happened in the last year that she’s missed, it takes my breath away. And when I think about all the things she could have done with another year, the pressure in my chest is almost unbearable.
I know right now her parents are likely playing the “this time last year” game. “This time last year, you were still here. I could touch you, smell you, feel your heart, listen to you breathe.” I’m playing it myself. This time last year, Jackie was still alive.
I’m feeling very wrung-out. My postpartum hormones have had me crying over everything, but this week I feel…I don’t know, almost resigned. It’s another awful day to add to the collection of awful days.
I selfishly hate that I won’t have a picture of her like this with James:
I really hate that there won’t ever be pictures like these of Jackie with her own kids.
I’m at a loss…it’s a whole calendar year of unused days, of memories never made, messages never sent and laughs never had. I’m searching to find the words that will really describe how a year without Jackie feels, and I keep coming back to the same one: Terrible.
I miss her, terribly.