This is the last week.
The last week of firsts, culminating in the very last first: the first anniversary of Ander’s death.
Anderson died on Saturday, January 31st at approximately 10:30 p.m. We celebrated his birthday, but I’m not sure what we’re going to do to celebrate his…. death day? (Too morbid.) Angelversary? (I can’t explain why I hate this term with a vengeance, but I do.) That day.
We were invited to a first birthday party of a little girl, but needless to say, we’re not going. We’re hoping the weather is nice and we can go fly kites and walk around the Arboretum, but it’s January in Chicago. We are having dinner with a colleague of mine and his wife who are also a babyloss couple. They married late, had a son, but then she had four miscarriages (two second trimester) and a failed IVF cycle before finally, agonizingly, selecting an egg donor. They are hoping to be pregnant by March, now. I feel they are fitting company for this special-est of days, as they know and understand (and are sensitive enough to leave their toddler at home, even though we do enjoy him on all other occasions!).
I’m not sure how I feel about this last first. I’m not sure how I want to feel. Do I want to relive his last day? Or do I want to bury my head in the sand?