A year ago today you slipped away from us, to a place where you no longer suffer and are at peace. It’s hard to believe it’s been a whole year. Time does seem to fly the older I get.

I can still hear your laugh, if only in my mind. I miss it. And I miss Sunday afternoons at the farm and trips to Sarnia, making strawberry jam together in the spring. Visiting you at the trailer. Your hugs. Your no-nonsense advice, whether I wanted to hear it or not. Your stubbornness and determination to not only fight your battles, but to win them. It’s a strange thing how we take for granted how fleeting our time here is. Life persistently keeps marching on, never holding still, even while we are grasping at the wisps of the past, to try to live once again in a moment long past, that only exists in the mind or heart now.

I’m reminded of you often. When I pull out the bakeware you passed on to me when you and Dad downsized from the farm to the riverside apartment. I don’t go a day without handling a kitchen item that your hands once held. I finally lost some weight and can now wear the choker-like dichromated glass pendant you gave me the year you retired from the bus company. I get a lot of compliments on it; I wear it 3-4 times a week. I’ve always loved it but now I love it more.

Everyone is doing well. Dad is well and he’s met someone. I like to think we’re both glad he’s moving forward with life like you wanted him to. The kids are doing awesome, me and Paul are great and I wish I could tell you all about the stuff I’m doing these days. I like to think that you’d be proud to see me reaching for my dreams. I missed out on so much when I was heavy and unhealthy. I feel like I’m making up for lost time but I’m enjoying every moment of it. Maybe my ship will truly come in this year! Maybe it won’t, but I’m making the best of my time and resources and having a good time. I’m happy, truly happy with my life.

Now, I know you wouldn’t want us to be a weepy and melancholy bunch on account of today being the anniversary of your leaving us. But I think each of us who knew you will likely mark the occasion in our own way. We will smile, perhaps through some tears, and allow our hearts to touch the memories we hold dear of you, our Rose. Miss you ❤️