I don’t know how to do this any more. I can go some days, filling my life up with people, stuff. Plenty of it is pretty good. Hey hey, I think. Not “I’m over it”, just “I don’t have to feel it”. Even moments of feeling it and I think I’m so cool. Yeah, grieving. Feeling it when I feel it. Then I revert to avoidance. Now with busy times coming up, here is a small vacuum. Do I feel or forget?
I actually don’t get much choice. I take a step in this house and Jane is here, all around and I am thumping the air like a baby. Or I think of a place and realise that it is our place, a place that we went together and made our own. Like Spencerville Beach. Only a small walk together one day and yet I remember each step. Being close, together. Breathing in the dunes, the surf, the horizon.
How can this be that you are dead, Jane. This doesn’t happen. It isn’t in the script. We spend the rest of our lives together. You don’t die like that, out of the blue. No-one does. This is some crazy nonsense.