There's little to say today, seven years on. Ben is missed, and thought of, as he is every day. Have I healed? Yes, as much as anyone could. I am happy, despite missing Ben, despite loving him fiercely and desperately wanting to know who he would be today.
Seven years. Hard to believe.
That's 2,557 days that he's been gone. 61,368 hours. Seven birthdays. A new baby brother, now in kindergarten, two new cats, plans to move next summer. A big sister nearly 10 years old. Me, on the other side of 40. Lifetimes.
I think it's time for this blog to change, but I don't know how it will. I am no longer living so deeply in the land of broken hearts, but I still want to be here to help others, offer support to those for whom this is a new and terrible way of life. Because there is hope, there is life on the other side of grief.
Life. Never the same, but life nonetheless.
I love you, my baby boy. I always, always loved you.