I don't push delete

I knew it was coming. I was watching for it for days. Anticipated what it would feel like this year. Pushed it out of my mind until the day actually arrived.

And the day came - and almost passed. Until a phone call reminded me that it was May 28th. I'm surprised I didn't already know, that I wasn't on top of it. After all, the day is shared with my niece's birthday. We called her that morning to wish her a happy birthday.

It was a busy day - one of those days where it is one thing to the next - and there isn't time to breathe. But that's no excuse. I'm not sure it's a good thing I didn't think and dwell all day or if I'm more sorry that I didn't have a carved out piece of time to sit and think and dwell.  I need some of that.

But children were tugging on my last bits of patience and, suddenly, it was late afternoon.

I was excited to see a voice mail message from a friend. I listened and my heart fell. That was the day.  The day that Cindy left us.

This is how it happened four years ago. The same friend finally reached me late in the afternoon.  I remember screaming - crying - needing to get through the phone and be with people who knew what a loss to the world this was.

And people feel like that every day. Afterwards, they walk down the street shocked that people are just going about their day as though the world was the same as it always was. It's not. And it never will be.

I called Peter (Cindy's husband), and I see your cell phone number above his.  I used to call your number accidentally when I was calling Peter after you died.  And he'd say in his thick Slovakian accent, "Lisa, do you know this is Cindy's phone?"  This time, I called Peter's phone, and your voice is still on his message.  It's still bubbly and happy and full of life.  It still rings with the pure joy that you were. 

It makes me happy for about a millisecond.
And then I think of your beautiful daughters, your husband, your family and your friends.
How lucky we were to know even if it was such a short time.
Truly blessed to know you and to call you mom, wife, daughter, sister, friend....

I don't delete you - 
not from my cell phone,
not from my memory