Somehow it is unbelievably hard to write this. I was hoping that a year later, it would be a bit easier. Everything about this season, holidays, weather, just reminds me of my last time with her. Reminds me of 'seeing my smoke' and giggling as we were trying to sleep. I don't suppose it will never be easy and I think that is why her name is in my cell phone, my address list, my MSN sign-in. I keep a picture of her and I on my desk. It had actually been there a year prior to her death, but I don't think it will ever leave my desk. It is her physical loss that is painful, not the memories. I want to keep her with me always, but being the logical person that I am, I can't seem to grapple with never seeing her again. The here-after isn't even comforting, because my selfishness wants to hear her laugh and talk to her and make new memories right now! THAT is the way it is supposed to me, but it will not be. This past month, I have been thinking about everyone that is affected by this, but yet struggle to pick up the phone or write emails. It is like I fear that talking about her right now will make me feel like I felt on Jan 4th. But I know that everyone is feeling this pain. I hope that we can move past that fear and support one another as the years pass. The past summer, I finally went to grief counseling and it has helped me cope with my loss and the loss I painfully acknowledge for her family, her girls and all her other friends.

So today, I did the best I could (or as much as I allowed myself to do) to acknowledge my grieving. Jim and I took a walk along the river, the same stretch of river that I remember walking on, talking on my cell phone to her once, trying to wait to drive home after having a few too many margaritas. We went to an old bridge and I tossed a beautiful, long stemmed red rose into the river. Life is still going on around us, yet all I could do is stand there and watch the beautiful object float away. There are many things that Christy enjoyed, and Jim and I thought we might partake in one today as well, in order to celebrate her life. Lucky for Jim, there was no roller rink here! We went out and had a great sushi dinner. Somehow, though, it will never be as good as the Rainbow roll that her and I shared the last time I saw her.

I miss her terribly, and I know that will not go away. I am ever so thankful for the good and bad times we shared. In many ways, her influence made me a better person and will continue to do so. You are still with me, Tootie

Katie