But whose counting

Today marks 18 months since God called you home.
18 months since your death changed everything I thought I knew.
18 months since our family felt complete.

18 months...but whose counting?

548 days since I heard your heart beat.
548 days since we held pinkies.
548 days since we last kissed goodnight.

548 days...but whose counting?

18 months since my world changed in the blink of an eye.
18 months since Steven said "daddy can breathe in heaven."
18 months since I promised you I would live.

18 months...but whose counting?

548 days since I didn't have to wake up each day and face my grief.
548 days since you were here to help Steven with his homework.
548 days since I last came home to you.

548 days...but whose counting?

18 months since life became before and after.
548 days since I became your widow.

18 months, 548 days...but whose counting?


I am.  I am counting.

I am afraid if I stop counting, you'll be forgotten.
I am afraid if I stop counting, I'll lose myself.
I am afraid if I stop counting, I will never heal.

I am.  I am counting.

18 months, 548 days and yes I am counting.

Counting the days until I find my new purpose.
Counting the days until I feel joy again.
Counting the days until life is in balance.

18 months, 548 days. And I'm still counting.

I will love you forever Jared and I miss you more than I ever imagined possible.
I feel lost without you and yet I am trying to honor my promise.
I have learned that you will never leave me, you will always live in my heart.

18 months. 548 days.  Counting the days I have survived.