A year, two weeks, three days, ten hours.

I started this blog as a way to write myself through the grief of losing my son. Every time I'd come here to write, however, the words just turned to cold molasses in my brain. I would have thought the burning in my chest and eyes would have warmed them up again and helped them flow a little. No such luck. Here I am, one year, two weeks, three days, and 10 hours since my boy died, finally making an honest effort at it.

It's been quite a year. Anguishing in many ways. Peaceful in strange ways. A blessing in humbling ways. September 3rd, 2011 either changed me or revealed me. I'm very unsure which it is, or if it's both. When I look back to the person I was on September 2nd, 2011, I simply don't want to recognize myself. If grief has gifted me with anything, it is more passion, compassion, and humility. If it has taken anything from me, it is confidence, pride, and innocence.

People remark all the time "I'm so blessed". I see it every day on facebook. I used to say the same thing. I still do; only now I actually understand the depth of the blessings in my life. I realize that it is the very essence of death that makes the spirit of life so sweet. It is in looking back that I understand how rich I was. It is in looking back that I see how rich I am.