Is it obsessive to count the days like this? Someone told me it was. I ignored him. I started counting the day she died. The first twenty-four hours. The first week. The first month. The time I was momentarily horrified when I counted only six weeks since she died but then re-counted, and to my great relief, found that we had actually survived seven weeks instead. Each month gone marking a greater fraction of her short life until she’d been gone 529 days, as long as she’d been here. The day her younger brother, who didn’t exist when she died, actually made it to his 530th day. Yes. Sometimes I still stop and count. I need to know. ~ Mandy Hitchcock.
Posted on: Mon, 26 Jan 2015 03:20:01 +0000
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