113 months into your precious life .. 113 months gone today.
This picture.
You’re looking straight at me—
eye to eye.
Solemn.
Steady.
My baby.
I don’t just see you.
I feel this.
Every month, going through these photos pulls me back.
Not just to you—but to you and Logan.
Pieces of a life that felt whole.
Moments I cherished that I can never step back into.
Don’t get me wrong—there are smiles. There are moments where I can sit in the memories and feel something warm, something almost light. But it’s always twofold, and more often than not, it leans the other way.
I knew at the beginning of this journey that my grief would hold strong. And it has. If anything, it’s grown stronger with time—not softer like people tend to think it should.
May 1 isn’t new to me. I’ve been here nine times before.
And still, I get stuck.
The words don’t come easily. They don’t flow off the pen. My fingers don’t move without hesitation. Everything feels caught somewhere between what I want to say and what I can actually bring myself to write.
Because how do you explain something that doesn’t settle?
How do you put structure around something that still feels this heavy?
So today, maybe this is all there is.
Not perfect words.
Not a clean message.
Just this space where I sit, remembering you, missing you, and trying—again—to say something that never feels like enough.
And yet…
I’ve been seeing you.
In that cardinal red—
showing up, saying hello with a song, making your presence known.
Just like that morning on the backyard fence,
when you said goodbye and somehow let me know you were okay.
You show up on walks with the hounds (who I still wish could meet you in person—I tell them about you), in the yard, and out and about.
Sometimes just because.
Sometimes because it’s needed.
I love you.
I miss you.
You should be here.
I am tired – Mom
Daly Chronicles 