The 8th

I never quite know how I will feel on the 8th of every month. Sometimes, the anticipation is worse than the actual day itself. Will I cry my eyes out all day? Will I even be able to make it out of bed? Will I call a friend? Probably not. Or will I just go about my day like any other day? Possibly.

I remember when we were approaching August 8th, 2008, a month after Karissa died. I recall feeling absolutely freaked out about the uncertainty of the emotions that the upcoming day would bring. I got through it though, just like all the other '8th's.'

I have to admit that last month, the 8th came and went, uneventfully. The next day I realized what the date was and I started to feel very guilty that I forgot it was the 8th day of the month. I felt sad that I had forgot about the date. Like I had forgotten about Karissa.

It is weird how time passes after you have suffered such an incredible loss. Everyone goes on with their lives while mine seems to have come to an abrupt halt. The world doesn't stop, in fact, it doesn't even care. Weird. Sometimes, I will sit out on my front porch watching the cars drive by or the people walking down the street and think "they don't know what has happened, look how they are just going about their business." It is all too weird and hard to explain I guess. Surreal almost.