Ever have a day force itself on you like an unwanted telemarketer? Today is one of those days.

It's unavoidable really. Maybe in a few years it will slip by, barely noticed... but even that's not likely. The jarring interruption, how it causes my breath to catch in my throat... that will eventually subside. But I will always remember.

How could I not?

We celebrated his birthday together for 11 years.

This is the second one apart.

And I can't help but be painfully aware today of all I've lost... all I grieve... all I miss. It's everywhere. All around me. All inside me. Constant.

Yet... it isn't as sharp as last year. It doesn't linger like it did. It doesn't ache quite so deeply. And for that I am grateful.

It's only in these mile markers that I even notice my own heart's progress. It's nearly impossible to see as the mountains and valleys of my journey rise and fall day to day.

The process of putting one foot in front of the other looks blurringly the same. Step... step... step...

But today I have a glimpse of a signpost from a year ago. And mixed in with the bittersweetness of the day is a strange sigh of relief. Dare I call it hope? I don't know... Ask me in a few hours...

This much I know is true: There is both a joy and sadness in remembering.

And I'm okay with that.