This Day

My sister's daughter died seven months ago today.

It's hard for people whose very loved ones have died. They don't celebrate the day, but they can never forget it, and they might need to mention it or in some way mark it. I don't mean mark it on a calendar. I mean just to send out into the air, somehow, the awareness of what happened on this day. Maybe that will relieve some of the heart's aching.

I always mark the day of Wayne's death, not a celebration, but a remembering. Can't help it. And usually I mention it--here mostly. Sometimes that day can slide by without mourning. Sometimes.

So today I mark Samantha's passing. I think of her. I remember her goodness, her cleverness, her wit, her uncommon good sense, how easy she was to be with.

I think of her family--her mom and dad, her brothers and sister, her husband and children--who miss her but who are living this day, as we all must, as if it were any other day. And I can hope the day slides by for them.