Sometimes the weather reflects my mood. The cloudy, overcast days seem to make it ok to be sad. The drizzles can hide the tears as they mingle together on my face. The dampness can hide the fact that I didn't want to fix my hair like usual. The chill in the air makes curling up on the couch under a blanket seem more for warmth than for sadness. Some may not understand the sadness that is held in the depths of the soul after a child is taken from you. I have come to the conclusion that it will never go away, never heal. I think it is there to shape who I am to become from now on, to make sure that as time begins to rob the mind of its memories that this one will never be stolen. I have always had that fear that I might forget something about Abrielle, the sound of her laugh, the way her big brown eyes would sparkle, or the way she would bounce along instead of walking. I want to hold on to every detail of her life, no matter how minute it may be. From the fact that Marc had painted her toenails blue just days before the accident to the fact that she and I blew bubbles on the porch the night before. I want to keep the vision of Abby running down the hill to the swing, yelling for me to push her and the sight of her pulling on her cowgirl boots with her capris to run out and help Marc set blocks around the fence post. I have always been afraid that the memories of the next day would somehow steal these away. Maybe this is a strange fear to have, but the way my mind works some days makes me afraid that this could happen. Some days it seems like it was such a long time ago that Abby was running through the house and the next day it is as if I just lost her the day before. These are such strange sensations to feel ok (normal) one day and the next be a total wreck, crying at anything. It seems as though grief has many layers that we must go through.