I haven't cried for a week. I've been sad, I've teared up, but I haven't cried for a week. Mom sent your obituary, which the funeral home had laminated for us, and your guestbook off Globe Gazette online. It was nice, but hard to receive a month after we buried you. I will probably never look at February 6 or February 13 the same again. I wonder how long I'll count the months? I wonder how long it will take me to stop thinking to myself, "We buried you 1 month and 4 days ago." Or "You died 1 month and 11 days ago." I wonder what your birthday will be like. I wonder what Easter will be like - April 12. 1 month and 29 days.
I feel a lot stronger than I have in a long time. For awhile I wasn't sure how to do anything without you. Now I know I don't have to necessarily do it without you, I just can't ask you for advice. But I think you raised me well enough to know that even though you're not there to give advice, I can still think back to what you would say. It's surprising that although we didn't talk much below the surface, I knew you really well. I'm thankful and lucky to be able to say that.
There are times where memories will catch me off-guard. How calm I was in the emergency room for one thing. I was crying sure, but I wasn't sobbing. I remember leaving the emergency room. It was like leaving a part of my heart behind. I remember mechanically walking out of the emergency room doors - forcing myself to look at the ground so I wouldn't look back. That's a lot of what this month has been like. I can't look back. That's when I start to cry. I just keep looking forward and with spring right around the corner, it's not so bad anymore.
I sigh a lot. My mom said that is something that comes with the death of a close loved one. You sigh a lot. I never realized it until one night I caught myself sighing for no apparent reason. Usually I sigh because I'm annoyed. Now I don't even know when I do it, it will just catch me off-guard. Just like the memories. Just like your death.
I'm managing. I'm not ok by any means, but I feel the strength from somewhere to keep going forward. That strength came the night of my concert - I got through it. There were tears shed, but I got through it. Because you were there? I felt this moment, right before I walked onstage, like you were hugging me. Only it was just me in my high heels holding my baton. With tears in my eyes. This unbelievable strength came over me and that's how I know it will be ok. Thank you for that. It sounds crazy, believe me. I'd be embarrassed to tell anyone about it, but thank you for that. I know it was you. I know it will be you with every difficult step forward.
I miss you. But I'm getting used to it. Maybe because I couldn't believe you had been taken away from me. Now I believe you are always with me. That makes the difference.
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