It's so hard to believe that a year ago tomorrow was Cliff's funeral.
Right now I was cooking a big Italian dinner for the family, primarily because all my checklists had been ticked off, everything was accomplished and done, and I had to have something to do, otherwise I'd have started screaming and screaming (again).
My stomach is doing backflips remembering.
I want to run away from the remembering thing.
It's a memory that has the ability to make my heart race and make me feel sick ... and panicky. Dry mouth, ears ringing so hard that I can hear my pulse.
I still doubt myself. I still wonder if I did enough for him that day. I still wonder if he approved of the Eulogy. So many people told me that it was beautiful. But I didn't write it for them. I wrote it for him.
The other thing I'm remembering very clearly is just how brilliant his (my) family were and still are. Back then ... without them ... it doesn't bear thinking about. His blood ... now my blood ... and I love them so much for it.