Five Years.

April is tough, because it’s the month of your birthday, and the month we lost you.

May is tough, because it’s the month of Mother’s Day, and the gifts I would have sent you.

June is tough, because it’s the month of Father’s Day, and the fancy dinner you would have made for Dad.

July is tough, because it’s the month of going to Minocqua, and the cool evenings we spent fishing on the dock.

August is tough, because it’s the month of going back to school, and the trips we would take to shop for new clothes and supplies.

September is tough, because it’s the month of your and Dad’s anniversary, and the celebration of the family you built together.

October is tough, because it’s the month of Halloween, and the homemade ceramic jack-o’-lanterns you used to put in the windows.

November is tough, because it’s the month of Thanksgiving, and the beautiful meal you worked so hard to prepare.

December is tough, because it’s the month of Christmas, and the Mariah Carey song that always made you dance.

January is tough, because it’s the start of the new year, and another year without you.

February is tough, because it’s the month of Valentine’s Day, and the card you sent after your diagnosis signed “Love always, Mom.”

March is tough, because it’s the month of spring, and the dark, uncertain weeks we went through before the end.

But.

April is great, because it’s the month Archie sings “Happy Birthday” to me at the top of his lungs.

May is great, because it’s the month Archie makes me a hand-drawn card with his name on it.

June is great, because it’s the month Archie plays outside, red-faced and sweaty with a smile as bright as the sun.

July is great, because it’s the month Archie calls fireworks “candles that explode into flowers.”

August is great, because it’s the month Archie moves to a new classroom, giddy with curiosity.

September is great, because it’s the month of Alan’s and my anniversary, and the family we are building together.

October is great, because it’s the month Archie can’t believe you can just ring a doorbell and get free candy.

November is great, because it’s the month Archie talks about eating turkey for three weeks before deciding he only wants rolls.

December is great, because it’s the month Archie gets a year older, and wants to wear his Christmas elf pajamas every single night.

January is great, because it’s the month Archie sends Papa a birthday video, and points to the calendar to spell out “J-a-n-u-a-r-y.”

February is great, because it’s the month Archie calls every heart–even the one inside his chest–a “valentine.”

March is great, because it’s the month the flowers in our yard start blooming, and Archie says, “Let’s go check on the buddies.”

April is great, because it’s the month I feel your presence most, and when we think of you more often with smiles instead of tears. The month when I look at Archie and appreciate the energy, optimism, humor and love that make each day matter. And the month I remember, because of you, that the privilege of waking up to another day is the gift that matters most of all.