I am currently housesitting in the home of some friends, friends that Butch and I visited a lot when he was alive. We also lived next door.
I hadn't realised how that would impact on me until I was on my way to their home. I began crying and felt such pain as I contemplated being in a home where we had had so many great times, while overlooking the home where we were at our happiest...well before Butch was diagnosed.
From there on, there has been many poignant memories and bouts of tears, as I sit out in the courtyard, at the dining table, hearing conversations and laughter of days long gone.
I've been looking across the fence, remembering the good times, like the time I begged for a Christmas tree and Butch brought a seven foot tree, roots and all. (He was clearing a subdivision with a digger at the time)
This morning I decided to go for a walk, and other memories began crowding in, not just of when we lived here, but also those last two years after he was diagnosed. I relived moments upon moments and cried as I walked back. (I suppose people look at me and think 'Wow! She must really hate walking!')
I couldn't help thinking that every time I think I'm moving on, there always seems to be a bitch slap that makes me realise I still have a way to go. Silly me for thinking there was a use by date or a time limit. Time. It will take time. And lots of it.
Missing my true love tonight and all the good times we shared.