What does one do two years to the date of the delivery of your already dead daughter?
Is it really a day different from any other?
The missing is there every day.
Perhaps today the regret that things didn't go differently is more in the forefront.
So far, we've slept in, I skipped work, and we ate breakfast. I am choosing a cake recipe and we will go to the gym.
Where is the wailing and gnashing of teeth?
I have a feeling that no one is going to really acknowledge this day. My MIL already emailed me today and made no mention, and she was the one that I thought would. Therefore, I guess it is only my mind that holds onto these dates.
There will be (ok, is) crying, and aching, and talking to beanie.
Because I can't even imagine what a two-year-old Serenity would look or act like.
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