Walking: The First Year

I love fall, normally. It means Halloween and Thanksgiving, two of my favorite holidays. Holidays. Fuck. Typing the word now gives me pause, and pain, and fear. Tears well up in my eyes.

I wish for a fast-forward button, knowing it wouldn’t fix this, but wanting to be able to skip past all of these firsts, especially the ones still to come. I want to be able to skip them for myself. I want to be able skip them for my kids. I want to be able to skip them for the family members who come to me looking for ways to make the holidays easier for me and for themselves, knowing that we just have to make it through, knowing that it’s going to be painful no matter where we are, no matter how we try to plan for it, no matter what arrangements we make to try to ease the pain.

For the first time since Bob died, the kids and I took the dogs walking on the trail as a family. It was one of those firsts I’ve dreaded.

Stations, please

It felt right to be out in nature, doing something as a family, but it hurt to have to do it without him.

A Girl and Her Dog

Part of our pack was missing.