There are good days They are sporadic. Bad days, a melted version of what was once me needs scraping off the floor, to be remolded into some semblance of once what was me. Good days I get out of bed, get to work and try to smile. That’s it. Everything is bland and I notice very little around me. At the very least, I am standing. That is a victory.
The smell of her in her clothing, a song, the way the sky looks can totally wreck my day or make me grateful for the 14 years of pure love we shared.
She was the most gentle, compassionate person I ever knew, her love knew no boundaries.
I miss us.
A year and change has passed since we lost her. We are buying a new home. The process of preparing to leave the house she grew up in, laughed in, cried in and died in sucks. A part of me feels like a traitor.
Every cupboard I clean out, the things I toss away remind me of her. When I run across anything that was hers I set it aside. I can’t bear to part with it.
I have not started on her rooms and closets it’s too painful. The future without her is painful.
Even though she left a letter for us, there will never be an explanation of why that wonderful creature is not here with us that I can accept.
So, here’s to an attempt to moving forward instead of standing in the quagmire that has swallowed us up.
Cheers.
Remembering Mali 