5 Years

Today marks five years without Molly.

That is 1,827 without seeing her bouncing curls racing through the house.
That is 260 weeks without hearing her contagious laugh as it filled up our home.
That is 60 months without watching her grow and learn and wonder.
I honestly cannot believe 5 years have gone by so quickly. It is true what they say, “The days are long, but the years are short.”

But what have five years without Molly taught me?

They have taught me to appreciate the mundane. The little things throughout my day that I can easily take for granted, like teaching math or folding a bright pink shirt are much different than they were before.
I often find myself looking at my girls clothes as I fold them and think about how much they have grown and still how much they need me.
I don’t mind reading the girls history assignment  to them (most days) because I know that they won’t always be there to read to.
The last five years have presented this gift of looking up. Focusing on heaven and the hope for  a day when I can wrap my arms around Molly again, perfect and whole. To not get all caught up in the unimportant things here on earth because in the end, they won’t make any difference.
These five years have taught me that it doesn’t get easier. It just changes. I don’t grieve so much the empty chair next to me, but the possibility of who she could have been as she grew. End of school years, milestones, and steps into the new seem to still hit with a blow as I am reminded it is yet something else we will miss with Molly.
Five years taught me to never put an end date on grief. It never leaves. It lingers in the shadows, not really interrupting my day so much anymore, but more reminding me that it will never depart. So I get used to it. I see it, but I can still function.

I wish it was all more profound than this. I wish I had wisdom and more hope in my words. But I leave you, dear reader, with the thought of this. The greater the loss, the greater the love. So I don’t mind carrying around sadness and wearing my tears. It it a symbol of what I carry inside of me for Molly. A mother’s love.