The silence is deep.  I hear the echoes of what was and what should have been.

Lu in labor then.  A first birthday party now.

Instead it is just quiet.  The emails only buzz.  The phone only blinks, messages of love within.

The humongous sunflower out front is bowed low with the promise of another thousand just like it.  Bowed low with sadness too, with the weight of our grief bright and brilliant during this first gorgeous fall.

Every day when I open my eyes, it is the first day that Silas wasn’t here.  This year was three hundred and sixty-five of those.  Tomorrow will be three hundred and sixty-six.

Every time I can’t believe it.  Every time it is true.

But you must excuse me now.  I have things to smash.

Everything but the sunflower.   The sunflower stays.

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