THE NUMBER SEVEN

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October 27, 2021

The number seven has been my favorite since I was a kid.
Not today.
Today marks 7 years since God called Dave home.
If you think that grief gets easier with time, you’re wrong.
In many ways it gets worse. The finality becomes etched in time.
Our kids continue to grow, and enjoy all kinds of experiences and success that Dave isn’t here to witness in person.
Yes, I feel him around us and I see him in our children.
But oh, what we wouldn’t give for one day to just hug him and tell him how much we’ve missed him.
Grief is like a wave. It can come out of nowhere and pull you under when you least expect it.
Our marriage didn’t last but our friendship did – and we honored that by being two of the best co-parents two children of divorce could ever want.
I am proud of that. He was proud of that.
I’m including a picture in this post of us when we first started dating.
Seniors in college. 21 and 22 years old. Babies.
We grew up together, created a family together, and created a modern day post-divorce unit that still felt like family.
That is why I grieve.
That’s why we grieve.
We miss his laughter. We miss his presence.
Every day for the last two months I have driven by his resting place.
Every day I wave hi. Every day I think of him.
Today I hope you will too.
He was too young and too memorable to be forgotten

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