Six months ago today Ian had his heart attack and six months tomorrow he left us. Half a year. Far too many days. Six horrible months of life changes that were never meant to be. I didn’t write that script.
I read lots of articles on how the six month period will bring about an even worse pain than the beginning. Nothing can feel as bad as that surely? If it does, it is escaping me so far thank goodness. Every day is painful but not like those first few weeks. Maybe it is because of moving house and being that busy I am dropping into bed at night nearly fully dressed through tiredness. Packing. Unpacking. Screwing. And not the sexual sort. Banging. Also not the sexual sort. Swearing. (Thumb black now with being hit so many times with a hammer). And picking up five dog poos multiple times a day. All these things must be keeping away the very hard knock I am supposed to be getting right now.
On a more positive note we are loving the new home. It is exactly the kind of home Ian would have liked. I have his pics in every room and a lovely one as you come through the door. It does feel like he is very much here and happy we are here too. Six months is unbelievable. How have I got through it I have no idea but through it I have waded. Bit by bit. And I have to say I think I am actually very proud of myself. I think Ian would be very proud too.