I have been anticipating this day for weeks now. As the plans for her funeral were being made, it was decided that just such a ceremony would be held "soon." It's been 49 days since she drowned in the very sea we just released her into. Forty-nine days that I've wrestled with the absurd idea that this sister-I-chose, whose zest for life was as big as her smile, is gone. Forty-nine days where I've repeatedly picked up the phone to call her, only to remember that she won't answer. Forty-nine days.
In 49 days, I could be harvesting produce from my garden. In 49 days, I could complete an entire semester of college. Forty-nine days is enough time to accomplish something significant. It's not enough time to begin to grieve, though.