And every other holiday this year.
I was distracted most of the day.
Hosting a party at my house with family and friends can do that to me.
Being surrounded by friendship, family, laughter, and good food.
But then as the night started to end and I found myself with less and less people around, I started to realize how close that year mark is to me.
And soon, it will be more than a year.
In less than eight weeks, I will not have those "a year ago, Roger and I were doing...."
I am running out of memories that happened less than a year ago.
Soon they will be even further from me.
Soon it will be more than a year that Roger was alive and with me.
Instead, I will have "a year ago, I was grieving..."
I am running out of time.
I am running out of "Roger died n months ago".
Soon it will be a year ago and so many months ago.
And then it will be years and half years ago.
Part of me does not want to cross the year finish line.
Last night I found myself sobbing on my bed thinking about this.
Thinking how last July 4th was the last time some of Roger's friends saw him.
Thinking how this year is quickly closing in on me.
But at the same time, it is sweet relief.
Sweet sweet relief.
Like a chapter in the Star's grief history will be done.
I have survived a whole year.
Yes, I survived the first year of the worst time of my life.
And I am still here.
In mostly, one piece.
It is like finishing that first 5K.
I just want to cross that finish line to say I did it.
But at the same time my legs are achy.
My heart is racing.
I want to throw up.
I want to almost give up but the finish line is so close.
And I know I will be glad to be done.
And be able to say I did it.
So with only about a "quarter a mile" to go, I ask to keep sending me positive thoughts and prayers.
Because I cannot cross this line alone.
This will be a group effort.
I will need everyone to push me over that finish line.