Sarah's Inscriptions

September 14, 2020 - One month. It's been a month.  Four entire weeks.  Thirty days and countless hours since the worst day of my life.  I remember it all too well.  I think those memories will be branded in my mind forever, but they're the last ones I want to keep. It doesn't help that every day since has practically been a blur.  Nothing seems to make sense.  Most things are quiet - the house creaks and the crickets chirp and stupid nuts from that dumb tree hit the roof - those things are loud.  But the every day sounds of life seem to have stilled.  The house just doesn't feel... alive.  And I know it's because you're no longer in it. The same could be said for my life too, I think - it's still.  It's quiet and it's empty without you, while many annoying, unimportant, and rather negative things are all too loud: your bed is forever made, and your clothes forever unworn.  Your car is abandoned in the garage.  Was I a terrible daughter?  Should we h

 September 3, 2020:  Almost three whole weeks. Yesterday I got out my stack of holiday cards to try and find your handwriting.  It was quite a stack if I'm being honest.  Most people, though we may not admit it, probably just throw theirs away.  I know a couple years ago I went through my own hoard of things, which explains why yesterday I only had two cards with your handwriting inside: one from you, Jeremy and Heather, the other one you signed for grandma.  You did that all the time, sign cards for her; I wonder who will do that small task now that you're gone?  I'll just add that question to my ever-growing list.   It stung though, realizing I really only kept one card of yours.  One piece of evidence that expressed your love for me.  I know I don't need the proof, but back when I cleaned everything out I thought I would have you longer.  Much much much longer.  I still think that I will, if I'm being honest, which I'm trying to be for myself and whoever else