Last week I went up for the first anniversary of my mom's death. Everything went really well, it was as happy and lovely as could be, and the memorial mass was very intimate and sweet. There were about 60 people there, which was... more manageable? than the actual funeral, where a few hundred people showed up. Last week was the same preparation, routine and result but on a slower and smaller scale.
The thing that I thought of the most, however, on the plane ride and while I was there was the fact that the day of her anniversary marked the End of the Firsts. Everything from here on out will be counted in years, not months. Very strange considering that until about 3 weeks ago I was still thinking that she had passed away 'a few months ago'.
Half of the time it feels like it has only been a matter of months; other times I could swear it's been years and years since I last saw her.
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