Hmmm, my third post today ... well it's preferable to clearing out the van (and I promise I WILL tackle that tomorrow or even later on this evening).
It just occurred to me. I have changed physically. I've lost weight (OK, I admit I needed to), I have more grey hair, my immune system is shot to hell, tension now takes permanent residence within my body, the tears I cry are fatter than they were before (their mass or volume is literally bigger than before Cliff died) and I have aged ... noticeably to me for sure, perhaps to others as well.
I don't mind. I mean, he died. It's worse for him. In truth, I'm amazed that my hair didn't turn completely grey overnight. Around a month after Cliff died, I was faintly puzzled when I noticed LOADS of my hair floating in my bath water ... it came out voraciously ... it has thinned ... and hasn't recovered.
But what I do mind is that we didn't want and I didn't expect this to happen (obviously) ... he didn't want to leave and I certainly didn't want him to go. EVER. In fact we had a deal ... either I went first, or we went together (ideally at the END of a holiday abroad if it happened to be on a plane crash). We used to joke about it.
But it's not funny now.
I love this photo. It's fairly recent and when I look at it, it's almost like looking at me in a previous lifetime ... I look loved, safe, carefree and most of all, happy and content. I was. He really was the most amazing husband.