Kristine E. Brickey

     Six years ago tonight, I went to sleep knowing my children were safe. Six years ago tonight was my final night of normal, of breathing deeply without pause, of sleeping without wishing for more. I had no way of knowing any of this at the time, of course; nonetheless, my life has taken on a new sense of normal in six years time.      Tomorrow marks the sixth year without my son's smile to greet me. Now, it is only in my dreams, memories and pictures that I glimpse his shining brown eyes and light up the room smile. It is still too much for me to watch my videos, delve into the scenes of my young, chubby faced son, hear his giggles and see him teasing his sister, my daughter, who misses him as close to my loss as anyone else can come.      For a number of reasons, or perhaps for no reason at all, this year has seemed harder than others without my Robbie. They are all hard, heartbreaking, terrible to bear...yet, the past six weeks have wrung me dry, twisted in new ways, leaving

     Today, one week away from another year. Will the six year mark be harder, easier, or different in some measurable way from the last five death-iversary dates? Perhaps I will be swooped by hawks, covered in double rainbows, swarmed by beautiful butterflies, and see #34 in new and unusual places. Perhaps there will be none of those things, but Robbie will still be with me despite being gone.      Recently at Mason's Spring Fling, I was moving past a table when I noticed my novel, They Said She Was Crazy , on a table next to a sign that said 'Books that I Recommend.' Obviously, I stopped, commented, and took a picture. 'ORACLE' the booth stated, and when I looked closer noticed a woman in the midst of reading another woman's cards. She was familiar, but not well known to me.      As my brain searched for the connection, she looked up, smiled at me and said: "Oh! You! I knew I was going to see you here today! Robbie told me I would be talking to you.