(no subject)
Its getting closer and closer to the anniversary of Ian's death and its strange how I feel like I'm almost obsessing over the date. Every second thought is on it; even the weather is making me think of it.
I can remember so vividly what flowers were out in the garden when Ian died, how the pollen from the nearby trees had coated the car, even how long the darn lawn was as I hadn't had a chance to give it its first cut of the season. This year, the daffodils are already finished, the trees bordering our property are hinting green and I've already mown the lawn a good five times. Spring is so much earlier this year, the weather hotter and I long to be sitting with Ian on our patio sipping beer during the long warm afternoons.
Sometimes it feels like Ian died a lifetime ago and I struggle to imagine what he sounded like, what he felt like, his scent, his touch - its hard to remember. Sometimes it feels like it was only yesterday that I heard he had died and I get that God-awful punch in the stomach that makes it hard to catch your breath.
Having been past all the other anniversaries - his birthday, our wedding anniversary, Christmas, Valentines - I think now that the death anniversary is the worst one of all. I don't want to think about it or acknowledge it, but its there jumping up and down in my mind constantly.
I can remember so vividly what flowers were out in the garden when Ian died, how the pollen from the nearby trees had coated the car, even how long the darn lawn was as I hadn't had a chance to give it its first cut of the season. This year, the daffodils are already finished, the trees bordering our property are hinting green and I've already mown the lawn a good five times. Spring is so much earlier this year, the weather hotter and I long to be sitting with Ian on our patio sipping beer during the long warm afternoons.
Sometimes it feels like Ian died a lifetime ago and I struggle to imagine what he sounded like, what he felt like, his scent, his touch - its hard to remember. Sometimes it feels like it was only yesterday that I heard he had died and I get that God-awful punch in the stomach that makes it hard to catch your breath.
Having been past all the other anniversaries - his birthday, our wedding anniversary, Christmas, Valentines - I think now that the death anniversary is the worst one of all. I don't want to think about it or acknowledge it, but its there jumping up and down in my mind constantly.