I try so hard to not let it bother me. Noah would have been twelve yesterday. Twelve. We didn’t quite get to see seven and I realize how different he might look, had he made it to twelve. Would I even recognize him? He’s locked forever in my memory at age six…

Some people in my life remember. Some don’t. And I’m thankful for both in a way. I’m happy to join with my denial and try to pretend it’s any other day, just like “normal” people. But I’m also hurt when I don’t hear a peep from my dear ones. The people I thought I was closest to. But I can’t blame them. Lives go on, right? I get that. And I’m working towards that; but at the same time I don’t / won’t ever let him go. ;I make no apologies for this)

I’m completely thrilled when anyone remembers my significant dates. I send endless gratitude to those who are there for me and understand / try to understand.

Anyway, it’s been way too long since I’ve seen…heard…held him. And I miss how different he would be and how he might / would have grown…how different life would be for myself and so many others. Would it have been better? How do I feel about that?

Nonsense, pointless, wandering thoughts…I can’t change the past but I can keep trying to carry his legacy of love, acceptance and peace. Like Tracy / Willie Nelson said, he was an Angel Flying too Close to the Ground

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