It's almost been six months now ... I'm only 48 hours away from the dreaded landmark. And certain things have become clear to me FINALLY.
I have spent the greater part of the past six months, sitting on his couch, waiting for him to come home. Rationally, I knew this was an impossibility. Emotionally, I have only now truly accepted the full ramifications of what happened on January 6th.
Everything in the house was left as it was on that fateful day ... and today I finally started to accept that I have to move his projects forward because he is not here to action anything himself.
The first step was asking Paul to saw some branches off the tree in the driveway, as opposed to coping with their interference with various Sky channels.
I also found the manual to our Neff ovens and reset the main oven, so that it worked properly, as opposed to coping with the smaller oven.
The other major realization was that anti-depressants are NOT the way forward for me personally. Their possible albeit rare side-effects are too dangerous to dabble with in my current state of mind ... and although I believe they are wonderful in certain situations, I am not ill, I am grieving, and must grieve. There is no other way forward from this pit.
Onwards and upwards. I will fight from now on and make him proud of me. But I had to reach "reality" on every level, before I could start the battle.