Sunlight spills over each white slat that covers my bedroom window. Despite their tightly cinched appearance, light pours in like a leaky faucet, refusing to hide behind its shroud. I lay in a sea of fluffy white; pillows and down comforters enveloping my warm, naked skin as I plead with my body to awaken fully from this place of perfect refuge. It’s day one of the grief challenge and already I’m behind. I should have been up hours ago to capture the sunrise, but couldn’t seem to pull myself away from this “Safe” place of rest, for fear that once I rise, reality will hit my heart once again and I’ll be reminded far too well of all that has been lost.

Eventually I pull my tired body from my sanctuary of sheets. Cool air rushes to meet me as I hurriedly pull on socks and sweats, eager to ease my goose bumped skin. Another day, another morning. I swallow unshed tears and push my way down the stairs to my darling angels who greet me with a kiss and twenty questions.

Through sippy cups slurps, and lunch box zippers I make my weary way through this rushed morning with just enough time for coffee. As I watch my cup fill with thick foamy goodness, I can’t help but think of my angel. This morning communion of coffee and sunshine has been our special dateevery morning since the beginning.

Through open doors and hurried footsteps down the street we walk. Hand in hand we play eye-spy along our way to school. I wish you were here, too. Sunshine burns brightly now, casting long shadows across gravel and concrete, reminding me that it’s a new day. And as we walk, I cling to my cup of solace, enjoying my morning communion and I know a piece of you is with me.