Sundays and Mondays are full of reminders. Sundays are self-explanatory. If Abby and I go anywhere on Monday, despite the fact she knows not about the days of week (she must have an internal clock), she asks. You know what she asks.
I must look like I'm a ghost when she says it. She says, "sad?" I smile and say "no, happy." She smiles back.
Still hurts.