This year is easier than last year...and last year was easier than the year before....and I hate that.
Because that means I am getting used to you being gone. That means that time is mending my broken heart. I haven't heard your voice in four years. There are so many unfinished conversations, so many cups of coffee we won't get to share. My mom has been gone 4 years Wednesday. While I may function, I know exactly how long it's been. Four years have flown by. Four years, 12 seasons, 1461 days, 2,102,400 minutes.
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights and cups of coffee...how do I measure a year?
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