Remembering to Breathe

In just a few short hours, it'll be February 11. The first anniversary of Logan's passage from this life to the next.

Lots of people have asked me what our plans are for commemorating the day. I still don't know for sure. We have bits and pieces to the puzzle, but the whole picture... it's not there yet. Adam and I are going to donate blood in the morning, and at some point during the day, we'll plant new flowers on Logan's grave to replace the ones that've fallen victim to our recent cold snap (and, based on some strategically located hoofprints, a deer or two).

But my primary goal is, very simply, to remember to breathe.

I worried, a year ago, that by the time tomorrow rolled around, I would've forgotten a lot of the nuances that made me love him so dearly; the things that made him my sunshine. I can say with great confidence that those fears were unfounded; I haven't forgotten much of anything. And when my memory feels like it may wane, I watch a video or two, and everything comes flooding back. That huge, beaming smile of his that Adam and I could never really understand, given our own serious collective demeanor. The moments of unbridled silliness. The freely given --and joyfully received-- unsolicited I Love Yous.

Yeah. I could try to be ambitious tomorrow. But I think I'll just remember to breathe.