They warned me that the second year would be really hard. They were right.
I'm realizing now that the whole first year you are still in shock to some degree. Everything is on hold. You exist in a state of suspense that whole year.
But as you enter the second year you actually have to start moving, living, ... heaven-forbid, ... changing, and that is REALLY hard.
Tom just celebrated his birthday, and special days of any kind are so difficult without you. I was in tears making his birthday cake, because I knew you would love it: he requested a chocolate cake with mint cream icing. I wish I had made that cake for you - my #1 mint-chocolate fan - but I never thought of it.
I gave Tom a new stereo receiver, and the gift of being able to reorganize the family room to set up a sound system with the TV. You would have been thrilled, because now we can run a surround-sound system like your Dad has, which you said was great for watching movies.
I cried for two days as I went through the old VHS tapes. Most of them I gave away, but I couldn't part with Batteries Not Included, even though I can probably replace it with a DVD; that worn box brought back so many memories.... How I scoured the Earth looking for it for you for Christmas that year.
Part of the plan was moving the aquarium. After all that effort to drain it, clean it out and set it up in a new location we discovered that moving it had sprung a leak, so just one day later we had to drain it again and give the fish away.
All these changes drive home the fact that I can't go back in time and have you back. And I can't even sit still in time.
The first year seemed to be spent trying to come to terms with the fact that you are gone.
It's after that that one has to come to terms with the fact that life goes on.
I guess that's the work of the second year.
This may take more than just a year.
I miss you!!!
Love, Mom
