Tomorrow is the second anniversary of my son's death.

I wasn't dreading this year like I was last year, but the hurt sort of snuck up on me. Maybe it's because my husband (who never travels) is leaving today for a business trip and will be gone until Friday, leaving me on my own for the anniversary. Maybe it's the piece I heard on NPR this morning about grief. Or maybe its that empty place in my heart that should be filled with a little boy, running and laughing with his twin sister.

Luckily my surviving twin has been extra cuddly today, because all I want to do is sit on the couch and hold onto her. I want to hold onto both my girls as tight as I can, because time goes so fast. My pregnancy, my son's death, delivering the twins seems like a lifetime ago. My oldest is finishing up kindergarten and my tiny little preemie, my precious survivor is going to be 2 years old in less than two weeks. Life goes on and while time definitely does NOT heal all wounds, I guess it does have a way of dulling the pain. Some days though, it's not nearly dull enough.