1 year.
12 months.
52 weeks.
365 days.

It’s been 1 year, Mom.
1 year to reflect and remember the good times.
1 year with a flood of memories and emotions coming and going.
1 year of holidays without you.
1 birthday without a call from you.
1 less Christmas card to mail.
1 school year begun without making a seating plan for your classes.
1 year of wishing I just had 1 more day with you.

It’s been 12 months, Mom.
12 months of measuring time since you were here.
12 months of adventures.
12 months of trying to live my life to the fullest.
12 months of feeling guilty for having fun without you.

It’s been 52 weeks, Mom.
52 weekends that I look out the window hoping to see a cardinal to know you’re nearby.
52 Sunday masses saying a prayer that you’ve been reunited with Grandpa in Heaven.
52 weeks that I count my blessings and remember all that I still have.

It’s been 365 days, Mom.
365 days that I’ve wanted to call or text you.
365 days that I’m reminded of the little ways you always helped me.
365 sunrises and sunsets you didn’t see.
365 days when I’m hit with tears from nowhere.
365 days that I hope I would be making you proud.

1 year.
12 months.
52 weeks.
365 days.
Every day. Every minute missing you still.