These last few weeks have been a challenge. I will catch myself wondering why I am struggling with various things, and I tell myself it’s the stress from work and personal life and being a mother, because I do have a lot of extra going on right now. But it’s different. And then I remember why. It’s the weeks and days leading up to the anniversary of her death.

In a way I find it is a sign of progress, that I am forgetting why these days are so hard for me. But on the other hand it’s more of a struggle, because it takes me a while to figure it out.

I hardly ever do this, but tonight I found my journal and turned to my entry for today’s date, five years ago. I read it and I cried. I cried really hard. And I’ve decided to share it with you. But I will warn you, you may not want to read it. Because if you have chosen to remember her in a certain way then I don’t want you to read these words.

Nope. I’ve changed my mind. I’m not ready to share yet.

I will keep these darkest days between the covers of my journal. At least for now…

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