Dear Tricia,

This week is upon you. It’s been two years.

You are living, breathing, parenting, writing, and waking each morning to do it again. Whether you wanted to survive or not, you continue to do okay, kiddo. Well done.

Of course you’re struggling. The kids aren’t sleeping well. Your emotions come second because theirs will always come first. Your subconscious alerts your conscious mind of anything you might have forgotten, by choice or with time. You are weary in your bones.

Remember what you learned last Christmas – and every milestone in the last 24 months: the anticipation is the worst, always worse than the actual day.

Knowing it’s coming,
knowing it’s hard,
having reasons for it all and explaining the process –

none of these spare you from having to do this,
one step, one breath, one hour at a time.

Give grace to yourself. Give grace to the boys.
Sleep at night. And during the day if you want.
Remember when you want to.
Distract yourself when that’s better.

When sadness comes, sit down and feel it. And then get up and do something else. That’s all it’s about.

Good job, T. You’re doing this thing.


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