My year of firsts if over

This morning, as I opened the door to let the dogs out, the first thing I saw was one of Mom's cherished "red birds" at the bird feeder. How very fitting.

As I type this, I'm watching the computer clock in the upper right hand corner of my Mac - it just hit 7:11 am on February 15, 2013 - 1 year to the minute from when Mom died. I'm sitting in the living room in the exact spot where she took her last breath, and I feel her presence so strong. It's like a hand on my shoulder, a whisper in my ear. I feel her every single day. Sometimes I laugh at her, sometimes I recount inane conversations we had to pass the time, and, always, I feel the love that she had for life in general and her family in particular.

I've just returned to my own life after 10 days in paradise in the Dominican Republic with the best man on earth - my true soul mate, John. We spent many hours talking about Mom and how lucky John was to have known her. And "know her" he did. They had a connection that spanned the 55 years of age separating them. And, through Mom (and through me), John has a very real idea who Dad was. I'm always surprised when John brings Dad up in conversations - he truly understands who my Dad was. And, although he was sorry to have missed my Dad, John is incredibly grateful to have spent the last 5 years of Mom's life with us. And, boy, I don't know how I would have survived then (or today) without him. Mom gave him the greatest compliment she ever could have one the day she uttered "You remind me of Joe."

So, today, I'll spend some time wallowing in the pits of grief but, as Mom and Dad taught me so well, I'll pull myself up with a little help from my friends, I'll go to the graves and put down some flowers. I'll walk the dogs. I'll chat with friends. I'll get on with it.

And to those of you who have been so instrumental this last year in helping me get on with it, there are truly no words to tell you how much your presence in my life has meant. Thank you.

With much love, Lori (and Gert)