Tomorrow is December 20th meaning Liane is dead 8 months. Writing those words is difficult, saying them harder still but trying to comprehend them...

Anniversaries of Lianes death have been strange for me. I’ve marked nearly every one of them in some way, some more than others and each with a different level of strength or of pain. Am I meant to get used to it? Is it meant to be something I do every month forever? Does not marking it make it sadder or easier or even disrespectful? Will every 20th be a day of internal struggle for the rest of my life? 

Tomorrow feels like a big day already. The proximity to Christmas, the last date of 2017, the round number of 8 and the sense of time passing so very fast. I haven’t tried to process the day yet. I’ll be in work for a lot of it and then to a big dinner. My parents have invited lots of my friends over to thank them for being such rocks for me since April. I don’t think I’d be here without them and my family. That’s sounds extreme but I mean it - I can’t think of facing what I’ve faced and surviving without the crutches beside me at every turn.  My heart has rarely been so nourished, comforted or full despite simultaneously being so hurt.   

8 months.

So much takes place in that vast amount of time. Babies are born. Friends get engaged. People start new jobs and move to new houses. Travel happens and growth with it. New experiences and the forging of new memories. Time always passing. Life always changing. 

All without Liane there. That’s such a hard thing to accept. So often I turn to share something or look to find her only for that special nook in my life to sit empty. I wonder how many more months and years will pass with that same feeling...