Last Friday, November 18th, was the first anniversary of the day that Rip passed away. It was kind of "the last of the firsts" for us, and there some relief in that. Not that any holiday, birthday, or even just plain old Monday will be any easier, but now we have experienced it, and lived through that experience, at least once.
I had a much harder time on Rip's birthday, November 11th, than this past Friday. I think there are probably many reasons for that...I can't actually remember a lot of the day he died, either the trauma of it or the drugs from the c-section have allowed me to block some of that day out, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. But mostly I think the day he was born is harder from me because it is his life I miss so much, not the death.
Overall, the last week was hard...but maybe not as hard as I expected it to be. As I've said before, I miss Rip everyday so the anticipation of these "anniversaries" is almost always worse than the actual day. Parke and I took some time to be together, and it was nice for me to have time to really concentrate on Rip and all his little life meant and means.
So we made it through a whole year, we made it through all of the worst firsts. My hope this Thanksgiving is that this year will be full of more firsts, but only the best kinds.