It’s my third Christmas without Maggie.  So far, it’s unique in that I haven’t been overwhelmingly sad: no meltdowns, no wallowing, no misery.  However, don’t misread what I type as a description of Christmas joy or, hell, even joy.  Her absence still cuts a deep emotional wake.  I feel like I’m coated in some sort of waxy substance that makes everything feel gray and dingy and blah.  Christmas cheer definitely has found no home here at the Weaver house. Continue reading Emptiness →

Today is Maggie’s 36th birthday. It’s stunning to me how much I still miss her every day. I’m fairly certain that my saying so has become repetitive, even predictable so I tend to keep it to myself. I would have thought 31 months would have cleaned out the pain. Instead, I’ve learned how to carry it better so that it’s not crippling or defining (or sometimes even noticeable to those who know me.) Continue reading Maggie’s 36th Birthday →