Moving Forward...but stealing glances back

I never thought this day would come.
I never thought the anniversary of Hannah's death would be met with anything but heavy, heavy grief.
But here we are...
Usually, I approach the time from 10/30-11/28 as kind of a "Monster At the End of This Book" paradigm. I dread it, from October 1st, on; when it hits, it's like a kink in a hose that's let go--there's a flood of sadness that can be pretty hard to navigate through.
This year is so different.
There are those (who are clueless) who will sit there and say that having another baby is some kind of miracle balm that is making this so much better. You're wrong, and I will not hesitate to say that very clearly: You. Are. Wrong.
Having another child does not "fix" the hole that is left when you lose your child. There is, simply put, nothing that "fixes" that hole. The only "miracle balm" is the love of Jesus--that's it. He loves you through the darkest days, and He hold your hand to walk you through the healing process. You're never completely healed, and you never forget where you were; however, you are slowly, but surely, equipped to not only move forward, but to glance backwards without falling into the vacuum of grief.  At some point, you stop crying for the pain you went through at the time; instead, you cry for the opportunities you never got to have. That's something that will always hurt, I suppose--not knowing what could have been, mixed with a little bit of wondering what exactly happened, and why?
So, here we are...6 years ago, we said goodbye...
I can walk you through every minute of that day. I can remember the nurses, what I was wearing, how it felt--but I don't want to. Those who were there remember--for some of them, they will never forget. Those memories are not ones that I want to have--they're the ones the enemy attacks me with when I'm at my lowest moments. What he hasn't figured out, though, is that it's those memories that will send me running to my Father faster than anything else. You see, I've learned that there are some things I cannot handle on my own. I have to run to Him, because those things are too big to try and process on my own. He's always faithful to keep me from going under. 
Today, I face the "Monster At the End of This Book." I embrace the memories with a strange kind of warm melancholy--yes, that's an intentional oxymoron--and maybe my heart hurts a little more than usual. But I'm okay...It's okay. I've found this place of peace, over the last year, and I feel like I can finally say that I am free from the heaviness that is always associated with this time. I asked David, and my Mom, if that was okay--I mean, is it disrespectful, to live life, and to move forward, during this time? Of course it is--it doesn't make me a bad mother, and it sure as heck doesn't mean that I've forgotten my beautiful Hannah-girl. But it is time...
It is time to move forward, and every year that goes by takes me to another phase of progress. I will always steal glances backwards...but I am far more inclined to look forward to not only my future here on this earth; I am inclined to look forward with far greater hope to the eternity that I have waiting for me...

Happy Angelversary, Hannah-girl--Happy Homecoming! You are loved, and you are in a place that's surrounded by the One Who Loves Us Most. I have no greater hope or healing than that...