Yesterday was easier than I thought it would be.

I thought of her often. So often.

But I didn’t cry over her, or us, at all.

Not even once.

I cried yesterday, oh I cried. I was up until 3am reading a great book (Leaving by Karen Kingsbury) and at the end the girl says goodbye to her brothers and leaves for New York.

Sobbing. Me. At 3am.

All I could think was…this is me. This is me in August when I watch them pile back in the van and drive off toward Florida, leaving me behind.

As it should be, I know. But it will still tear my heart.

Oh we fight and yell and say things all the time that we don’t really mean. Hurtful, mean things. But at the end of the day, I love them so much.

We never really say it. “I love you.” We just don’t. Never really have. But I really love them and watching them drive away will be so hard. Yet I’m so excited for school. Such a mix of emotions! But last night was just so sad. 91 days until I’m at Samford and they’re back home. August 26, less than three months away.

Funny how the dates match up. May 26th, the end and the beginning of a new chapter in my life. August 26th, two years later, the end and the beginning of yet another new chapter.

I’m a girl that loves dates. I remember tons of random dates that no one else does. They mean something special to me.

Anyway, such a long rabbit trail, but yesterday really was okay. I woke up (kind of) early and was dead tired so I went back to bed. The next time I woke up it was past the time when it all ended.

I slept right through it. Maybe that was best. Because for the rest of the day I didn’t have to think, ‘it’s almost here. one more hour. right now we were fighting. okay, right now she was telling me this.’

Instead I was able to just think to what had happened right after. Which was brutally ugly and painful, but at least the nasty words were over and somehow, my day just seemed better not having to think on that part of my Story.

I got through the day without crying over her or us, and that was such a relief. I know in my heart of hearts that I haven’t (and probably never will) totally moved on. But this felt like proof to me.

I’m getting there.

I can live again. Some day I will really live again, and that day is closer now than it was before. And I did it on my own. No texts to help me through the day. No emails or reminders that I’m strong from friends. Nothing from anyone that showed they remembered the worst day of each year.

Just me on my own with some help from God.

Guess who survived. :)