Waves . . .

I’ve been told that grief comes in waves, and I can testify to that.  There are days when it just laps at my feet, but there are others when a wave catches me off guard and knocks me off my feet.  This holiday weekend brought a tidal wave, and I wasn’t expecting it.  Throughout the weekend, I found myself remembering how we spent the 4th of July with Sammy through the years.  (And, you can read the record of those years documented on this site.)  On Sammy’s first 4th of July, we sat at his bedside in the NICU while he recovered from the surgery to receive his tracheostomy.