I want so badly to write something strong and positive. But, I don't have it, not yet, anyway. I'm searching. I will find it. Right now though, I'm terrified.

I want to put pictures up of the kids. I know it would be so easy, but I haven't touched our digital camera since our last Christmas together. He was so sick. It took me months to let go of how ill he looked. I remember being so afraid that I'd never be able to see his beautiful face again in my memory. I can't look at those images. I can't see him in pain. I can't see the look on his face as he watched his child scream and laugh while he knew it was the last Christmas he'd see her. I can't see the way we looked at each other knowing it was our last Christmas. I can't look at the bump in my belly as we opened presents. I can't see the way we looked at each other knowing that he'd never touch our son.

I can feel the holidays coming. I smell it coming and it actually makes me sick. I've said before that I don't want to be controlled by dates. But it's hard not to be. This is the time when he verbalized that he didn't feel good. Christmas was his favorite holiday. Our daughter is about to turn four. And it's almost two years that he was taken from us.

Most of the day what I feel is a physical pain. The best I can describe it is to liken it as when your foot falls asleep. Imagine that feeling in your chest. Then when you move your foot to wake it up - the shooting pain you feel. Imagine that feeling in your chest all day long. That's what it feels like. But, I can't shake it gone. I can't do anything to make it go away. There is no relief. I just ache for him.

I'm so frightened of my reality and exhausted from my pain that I too often try to alter my reality. Which only makes things worse. I'm so scared and sad. And I fear that I'm embarrassing him. I'm not dealing with this the way I promised him I would.

I thought I saw him the other day. It was actually more than that. I believed I saw him. I was putting the kids into a cart in the Giant Eagle parking lot. I saw him walking toward us. It was his saunter, his hair cut, his smile, his jeans, his shirt - it was him. For just a moment - I was so relieved, so happy. I almost went up to him. Madi asked me a question. Ethan started to cough. Then he was gone.

It might be time for therapy...