So tomorrow is "the day". That dreaded one year mark. I feel like I want to crawl in bed and hide for the next two days. And yet I feel like I want to do something crazy as a tribute to Emily. Like go skydiving or parasailing. Pierce my nose or dye my hair blue.
Hiding in bed is not an option. And there is absolutely no way that I am going to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. And it's too cold to go parasailing. My father would have an apoplexy if I pierced my nose (and it's not really me anyway), and with my luck the blue dye wouldn't wash out of my hair.
So I'm just left with me, trying to figure out how I am going to deal with tomorrow. I don't know why it's weighing so heavy on me. It's no different than the last 364 days. I suppose because it's now the last of the "firsts". And now a lifetime without her looms ahead.
I miss her so much that sometimes it hurts to breathe.
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