January is always a hard month for me. Each year I think it might go by without remembering. But it never fails. Something always reminds me of the day that Amy died. Like today, the snow and the bitter cold. Oh, how I wish I could forget.
My best friend Amy, died on January 25, 2002, after a valiant battle with Leukemia. I feel lucky and blessed to have been able to say goodbye to her and see her one last time before she passed. The sadness of knowing I was there when she took her last breath overwhelmed me for many months and sometimes it still does.
Sometimes I can’t catch my breath when I think about how unfair it is that she is not here. That she was not able to be at my wedding or be at the hospital when Landon was born. Or more importantly, that she was not able to reach these milestones herself.
It especially stings when the anniversary of her death creeps up on me. I think to myself, “No, there is no way it has been seven years since I’ve talked to her or seen her face. It just can’t be. She can’t be gone.”
