As I type this, it is eleven months, twelve hours and nineteen minutes since Dane died.
That means in less than a month it will be one year. Time has never moved so glacially and so quickly at the same time.
I accept it, but I still find it hard to believe. Wonder what stage of grief that is. In some ways, we are probably still in shock. In others, we have no choice but to move forward.
Only fifteen days left of the Year of the Snake. We will celebrate by eating Chinese food until we roll away from the table. We will unfurl our fortune cookies and take the fortune as The Gospel; we will eat the cookie, gluten be damned.
Lots to think about and write about at this moment, but I can't quite gather my thoughts together. In the coming days I will write more, but for now, this is enough.
Eleven months, twelve hours, twenty-four minutes...
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