I never thought I'd survive losing her. If you had asked me last spring, I honestly didn't think I'd make it this far. Over the past, probably, 8 months, I've tried to find patterns to my grief. Things that would trigger it, certain days, certain times of the day, certain music, certain smells, certain thoughts. I'd think I would have it down and then a time and day like today happens, and that "something invisible" comes out of nowhere and has hit me in the chest. Then I realize, once again, that I have no control over it. There has been one thing that has kept the pain and random tears away, and that is talking about her. Keeping her present and "alive". I haven't started to heal yet, but her memory has so literally kept 𝘮𝘦 alive.
The day I start to heal is the day I tell her story and not one person can doubt it.
I am sure that I will survive until that day. Because of her.