Her absence is most illuminated on days like these. Withering leaves and children enthralled with pumpkins and promises of Christmas joy, to soon enchant them every single night until Santa arrives. My sister Katie would have just turned 32 if she were still here. My niece and nephew are now 7 and 9, miraculously her husband Tyler fully recovered from the car accident and has remarried ❤️ Grief in itself never really seems to have proper closure, that’s what I have always found. Maybe the gut wrenching sobs have subsided, the shock so prevalent in our bones has worn off, those who took to the bed finally got out, some months later. But even in the “it’s been 4 years now” season, there are so many times when I think such simple things over and over-“I still can’t believe this is real. I can’t believe I can’t call her. I can’t believe she is actually gone”. The shock hit me again today in the grocery aisle. Like a surprise reminder notification that comes up in the most mundane of places. I’m not deep enough into the woods of life-without-her to know if those recurring thoughts will ever disappear. But I am still quietly shocked, in the midst of my most joy filled moments it is always lying there, ready to be considered and mourned again. And I deeply and desperately miss her. And I so awfully wish she could watch her children grow up, the way I get to watch mine. And that we could still talk about their bloom together. The holidays were her favorite time with them. She had the Christmas card fully situated by this time, and was so delightfully excited for the many holiday memories to come with each passing year. To anyone who has endured these tragedies, maybe we can never believe they’re gone. Can we? The grief can feel so new, even when it’s old. It hits differently with age on it. In the meantime, in honor of the ones we lost, we MUST take heart of how precious each sunrise really is. No matter which beautiful or dreadfully awful season we are navigating. Another day bursting with life is one that she would have so loved to have, so loved to have been able to live. When I had to choose this resting spot for her in the grass, I loved how the sun shone there…