…… is the number this year.
Eighteen.

It’s a large-ish number.
A child born on the same day Jim died is now getting ready to go to college.
That puts it in a clearer perspective.

But 18, like 17, is so much better than 10.
Or 5. Or 12.
Or the worst of them all, 2.

This day used to have so much power.
It used to bring me to my knees.
Not so much the day itself but the days leading up to it, starting with Thanksgiving.
That used to be the start of my “death march”.
(For those not in this club, the death march refers to the days surrounding the death date. Maybe it started with a diagnosis, or an “I’m sorry” from a doctor, or maybe it began with a significant event, like mine. We didn’t spend our last Thanksgiving together because I was exhausted from returning the Sunday before from a mission trip to Kenya. We were supposed to go to my inlaws’ farm for the holiday, but I wasn’t up to it and one daughter couldn’t get off of work so I sent Jim and the boys to his parents’ house for the holiday and the girls and I celebrated at home. I’m so very thankful that I sent him. It would be the last time they were together.)

Sadness and depression used to creep on me at Thanksgiving and then hang around to spend Christmas and New Year’s with me. It was awful.
But I noticed last year that I hadn’t been sad at Thanksgiving. In fact, I hadn’t been sad for a few years.
My death march has faded away.
And that is wonderful.

I don’t look at December 18 in the same way anymore.
Sometimes I see it and don’t associate it with anything at all (like earlier this month).
It’s actually a big day in my extended family because it’s the birthday of my sister, brother and step-dad.
Which means that they’ve had a few very sucky birthdays because of what else it is.
I hope that they’ve started enjoying this day more now.
I have.

Don’t get me wrong.
I still think of Jim every single day.
I miss him every single day.
I wish he were here every single day.
But …… he’s not.
And I can’t live like he might be.

But I can live a life that would make him proud.
I can love my children and grandchildren for both of us.
I can enjoy the time I have with my family and friends and make the most of my time.
I can support the people and causes that I care about, knowing he would be at my side if he could.

But mostly, I can remember him with love and joy.
I can feel peace when I think of him.
I can feel secure in knowing that I had more love in 27 years than many people get in a lifetime.
Of course there will always be moments that bring tears.
But thankfully they are few and far between now.

That’s what 18 years has done.
Thankfully.