It's been over 7 years, Carin

 

It has been more than seven years since Carin left us. I admit with the passing of time, days pass when I don't think of her. When I don't miss her with an ache that feels crushing. Even weeks. Perhaps even months. 

This November, though, has not been like that. There have been days where I've reached for my phone to send her a text. Call to ask a question. Think of her.

I visited her grave in October for the first time in a couple of years. I was in that part of Pennsylvania, was alone, and didn't have immediate plans. I just wanted to be with her a little bit.

Since then I feel like she is haunting me.

Mr. Todd, our iterant arborist stopped by to trim up our trees. The last time I saw him was when I was doubled over in pain from the food poisoning I got at Carin's house during her Shiva -- as if she hovering over that day frustrated she couldn't micromanage those last details.

It was more than that. It was hosting my first Thanksgiving and wanting to ask for her insights. Okay, I wanted to vent and have her talk me off a ledge. 

Ashley had to go to the dentist. We used to text while our girls were with their dentists because they both hated it so much, and we knew it was a necessary evil. 

I think of her as I try to decide if I should commit to growing out the greys or cover them up again. What should I do with my hair?

I think of her as I plan trips. What am I missing? 

I think of her when Nancy, Laura, and I get together and swap stories of our children and families.

I thought of her as another friend succumbed to leukemia.

November would have been her and Mark's wedding anniversary. I think of that.

November seemed to be her favorite month. Not too hot. Not too cold. Filled with family getting together. Anticipation for how to make Hanukkah better than the year before.

May we all live our lives so when we are forced to leave, there are still people left who think of us fondly. Who miss us. Who mourn us.