New Year's Day, Pongal, Fridays - nothing is auspicious or special anymore. Every one of those is a sharp reminder of this empty space in our lives that was so full of Shraddha.
Fridays, the day she passed on, especially are pure hell. They feel more like Groundhog Day. Fresh, raw grief comes to the surface all over again.
Jan 16 was especially bad, as it signified that exactly a month remained to Shraddha's third birthday.
The awfulness continues.