A slow fade

And so it begins.
I can't blame others really, life moves on.

I know it doesn't mean you have forgotten her.
But the pain of every Friday morning.
The powerful sting of each 24th.
A never-ending string of anniversaries.
All mine to bear.

And although I can accept that I cannot change what has happened.
The diagnosis.
The way it all fell apart.

Her death.
The pain lingers, every day.
Seven months later it may be softer.

Not as crippling.
But the fact still remains that I am here and she is not.
And every 24th is yet another reminder of the life that was stolen from my beautiful baby girl.