I don't have many words. I barely have any.
As these days loomed, I somehow imagined that there would be a natural separateness to them, a setting apart. Cocooning, maybe. But they are just days like any other, with potential for warmth and closeness. But also for distance and hurt. And, just like two years ago, the world,-- with a few marked exceptions, and how grateful am I for those exceptions-- doesn't stop for us and our pain.
The days are a little too ordinary, a little too crowded for me. Though I imagine I might find that to be the case no matter what was happening around me. But there've been moments.
The sky over the cemetery yesterday.
Our new* onyx candlesticks for the kid Shabbat candles. I feel funny saying "a present" or "a gift," even if I say "to us" or "to myself." Maybe just "something to mark the occasion."
*The very first time we lit a candle for each of our children in addition to the regular Shabbat candles, we burned down the one wooden candlestick we used because we didn't have three matching ones of any kind. After that we lit tealights for a while, in little IKEA colored tealight holders. And so Monkey wanted us to keep doing that-- to have the kid candles be tealights, and shorter than the main candles.