My mom died of brain cancer when I was in high school, 20 years ago now. And for many years, I missed her vividly. With time, the rawness of her loss faded. Because I lost her so young, I find that I don't miss her as much because of the experiences we shared or the conversations we had. I miss her for those we didn't.
What I'm left with now is not only all of Chrissy's things for the time being, but this drive to carry on without her. I refuse to acknowledge we lost, that I am defeated. She wouldn't want that. I try to appreciate beautiful days for both of us. I've caught myself wondering if I can accurately gauge what she would and wouldn't have loved. I think I can. No, wait -- I know I can.