This week.

Next week marks 2 years since Micah's accident, with Wednesday being the night of the crash and Friday the evening Micah died.

Gratefully my mom has room and time in her schedule to drive to Goshen to be with me. It will be great to have her present and hopefully will alleviate some of the weirdness of not being home. Last year was so nice in that I was able to be in my own space and have my feelings link to the literal places they stem from. This year, however, I'm away from home and only have my memories to connect me to two years ago, not the places. All in all, it'll be very different, but hopefully still meaningful.

I don't know what to be more shocked at---that this year flew by so quickly, or that it's been an entire two years since the accident. Both feel unbelievable. I can so clearly remember sitting alone in my room several days after the accident, thinking to myself, "I can't do this. I can't possibly live a month or a year or a lifetime with Micah and with all of this."

Fast-forward two years, and somehow I've made it through...with meaning and learning along the way. For this there is celebration, my therapist reminded me this week. And so I anticipate leaving room for not just grief this year, but celebration...celebration where I've found growth in my own life these two years.

Yet still, I dread hate kick scream punch detest this week. My entire being mourns and misses and cries. Feelings already begin to swell, and I know all I can do is step into their stream, let them take me, and float.