52 weeks…

52 weeks. 52 weeks is a whole year minus a couple of days. 52 weeks is how long since we have eaten as our “party of 5”. That hurts. Just last week, I pulled out a 5th glass because, in my head, everyone was here for dinner... But they weren’t. Thursday night is spaghetti night, a tradition started by Jeff’s family growing up. So after we married we continued it in our home. As the boys grew up they started hating spaghetti, so I would change it up so long as they still came to eat with us every Thursday night. And they did!

52 weeks ago was our last Thursday night supper with all 5 seats filled. 52 meals he should have been here with a can of Bubbly and a big hug for his mama. 52 weeks ago, I got one of his awesome hugs and an “I love you too” as he pulled out of my driveway for the last time.

I am so thankful I hugged his neck before he left, that we were intentional about those Thursday night dinners, and that I had 24 years with my sweet boy!

To be honest- we don’t eat spaghetti on Thursdays very often anymore. We eat it, but it’s ok to eat it on a Monday now if we want it. And anytime we go eat or whatever- planning or saying “for 4” - it’s like pouring salt in an open wound- hurts every time. Can’t explain it..... but it does

Written By Amy Durham, May 2020