Katie Schwartz

The Kid died one month ago today. That occurred to me just a few hours ago. I kept telling myself today was August 31st. It's September 1st. I KNOW. Happy Anniversary is wildly inappropriate. It's right up there with going to a non-Jewish funeral and asking who will be attending the after party . Guilty. I worked on an essay about hagamuffin today and recalled so many fabulous memories. I laughed and I cried. It was cathartic. It was difficult and that's OK. I still miss him so much. I think I always will. I need to learn to live with that, which I will do... eventually.

I have no sense of time. It's genetic. It's not a malfunction. It's something that's quite festive actually ... until it matters . It mattered tonight when I was talking to my mother and we were dishing about the kid . The abridged version is that even though I couldn't find his birth certificate (PS: you can bet your sweet ass, I will find it. I am one determined dame), I found evidence that he was born in 97', which means he was 10 , not 7. I had 10-years with my kid. 10 beautiful, perfect years. It's never enough time, ever. I would've loved more time. It'll never be enough time. I'd give up everything I have right now for more time with him. Knowing that he had 10-years matters to me. Knowing that we had 10-years matters to me. It gives me a sense of peace and relief. My son lived 10 glorious uninterrupted years on this planet and I have proof. I found his baby pictures. The day he was born. When he was 3 weeks old, 4 months, a year, 2 y...