14 months

Throughout the day yesterday it popped into my mind that tomorrow was tuesday and it was a 29th. I pretty much forgot last night and then it struck me again this morning as I drove past the fire station that houses the ambulances - one of which came out that night.

I have stopped counting days, hours, but can't stop the months. 14 months. I guess my forgetting about it till it was upon me may mean that the day doesn't matter so much. Well, it does, but it matters in a different way.

It matters not just once a month, but everyday and in many ways. Missing Jim's touch, voice, laughter and face with all his expressions. I won't go into missing his body. But I do. There are also even more subtle things that occur each day. Subtle things like not having someone to talk to at night, so you watch a movie or no one to bounce a 'what to do about..." and having to figure the solution out yourself. I don't find myself thinking it out like I just typed and I know I am a different person for having to do these things, but it still doesn't help the ache in the chest.

At 14 months I find it hurts to look at Jim's photos. I have them up on the walls and when I look I am captured by his eyes. His beautiful eyes. And all I can do is stand there and wonder why this happened to him. I stand there and say my thanks that he was brought into my life. I stand there and talk to him about what I will be doing for the next few years.

My brain has turned on the switch button for 'don't think about it'. I still do, but not as much because of either the veil of depression or the number of things on my to do list for that day. I look at the last picture ever taken of Jim and I and I think back to the words that were said at his service by his brother and I find both a comfort and an ache.