I am “home” for my little sister’s wedding this weekend. 

I say “home” because this is where I grew up, but it’s not my home anymore.

 My home is where my life is with my Husband and Landon. 

My home is where my baby girl’s tree is planted. 

My home is where her urn (that I kiss every night) sits on my dresser…

I’m struggling with the fact that this is the first time all 3 of us have gone somewhere together and left her urn at home. 

I know she is not there…I understand that… but it is so hard to not feel absolutely guilt stricken about it. 

Blah. Life after loss is stupid.