I haven't forgotten anything. My children are tucked into their beds. Jeff is getting ready for work. My house is semi-tidy (note I did not say clean), but still there is nagging, a niggling in the back of my brain. It is May. Almost one year ago mom died. I have survived my first year without my mom. There are so many things about that sentence that are so very wrong. She was/is a Christian, so I have confidence in her place in His kingdom. But I'm still here. Without her. My dad is still here. He really hates Saturdays. THat was their day to get out, explore, relax, enjoy time together. My sister is living in mom and dad's house. Surrounded by mom's friends. THat really hard sometimes. Mainly it's just hard. Grief does not come to your front door, ring the bell, shout out I'm here, pass in a calling card. If you don't have the time right then to have a mini-break down, grief doesn't just say, oh, well ok, I'll come back later. Grief just comes and camps out whenever, wherever, however. Not nice. Not fair. But like my mom always said, whoever said life is fair.