It's been 410 days since I last heard my daughter laugh, felt her hand in mine, twirled her hair between my fingers. On one hand it feels like it was just yesterday. On the other, well, it feels like it was a million years ago.
And I hate that.
I hate everything about this actually.
And every day for the past 35 days I've hated that I've been in such a downward spiral that it's been all but impossible to share the wonderful ways so many people remembered our daughter a year later.
Here's just a few:
Letters and cards to let us know you haven't forgotten.
You still love us. Pray for us. Ache for us.
A birthday candle.
A birthday cake.
A package of Golden Oreos.
An angel pin.
Letters from Addie's classmates.
And a beautiful balloon release to mark what should have been Addie's 11th birthday.
As blue and green balloons filled the sky, two little boys led a gaggle of 10 and 11 year olds across our yard and into the alfalfa.
Together we watched and watched as the last of the balloons disappeared from sight (and presumably into the hands of our little girl).
And we watched as groups of three, sometimes four, girls broke off into groups around our yard. To talk. To cry. To remember.
Later that night we celebrated Addie's birthday as a family.
And what about that run?
More than 600 of you came out that day to remember Addie, support two wonderful causes, and show us once again how much you care.
I'm not sure words can describe that day, so I won't even try.
I'll just leave you with this video and two words.