My life is good. Not perfect, but knowing what others deal with it's hard to complain. The worst thing I've lived through? The death of two of my three children. My third, a son, is my joy, my medication, my gift.
This is the week of their birthdays. One week apart, and six years, they never met on Earth, but I'm sure are together in spirit. My son is four now and beginning to understand it all. We spent the day at the cemetery yesterday and I felt comfort in the knowledge that he wanted to know his sisters, and I felt JOY in the discovery that his compassion for our pain and his desire to make us happy was so strong.
Next week we do it all over again for our second daughter. Life goes on. Not the same, but still full of joy. One day we will truly be the family we planned: all together as one.