I think it was a year ago

I think it was a year ago that I stood in our kitchen, watching our son crawl back and forth like a pinball.  I think it was a year ago that I believed everything was OK because you didn't call me when you heard from the doctor.

When you said I would know how worried to be by when you talked to me, I thought you meant you would call me right away if it was cancer and you would wait until later to update me if it was nothing.

In the future, I will ask people to just call me either way.  Lesson learned.

You probably thought I didn't remember.  If I were to argue with you about it today you would cite it as a prime example of my "not listening."  For two communication studies majors, we sure had a hard time communicating.

And just like that, Christmas was sort of over.

I can't even remember what I gave you for Christmas last year.  I have no idea what your main present was. It must have really sucked.

But I loved you on Christmas, and every other day.  And I have to believe that was enough.  And that I heard the important things, and you forgave me for "not listening" to the rest.

I don't know how people deal with cancer for years and years and years.  I guess the same way that people deal with loss for years and years and years.

I guess all things get a little easier with time and practice.  Even this.