Still Here

Yes it's almost six months. And yes I know people get tired of me writing about it. But...it is all still very current to me.

I am more certain than ever that some of the things are not just meant to comfort, but also to keep me moving in the direction we had planned.

As I had mentioned before, I had planned on quitting smoking. When all this happened, that plan went by the wayside. But more and more often there are little things. My lighters disappearing. My lighters needing a flint, or fluid, or just not lighting at all no matter what. My cigarettes, which I have never had any trouble putting my hands on in the past, suddenly not being where I put them.

Because of some health issues I had developed I had to drastically change my diet. I was doing well on the new plan until he passed. But afterward I stopped really planning. Slowly things have happened that are steering me back on track. Items I know I have bought are not in the pantry, or the freezer, my plate falling off the table when no one is around.

My medication falling out of the cabinet where it's kept. Little things, all with reasonable explainations. But too many to be coincidence.

That singing bowl. I keep it in a lower cabinet. I guess it's not supposed to be there because the door never stays shut. This is a door that has always 'stuck' and required some ummph to open.

Little things we said to each other, I hear them frequently. Driving down the road the other evening I heard a dedication to "my rose". Odd...but what was odder still was it was "Ghost of a Rose" by Blackmore's Night. NOT something heard on radio around here. But something he had said to me a few times.

I put stickers on envelopes when I write friends letters, so I have a fair variety of them. The other day a pack of them were strewn, literally strewn, all over the kitchen floor. The package was pixies. He always called me Pix.

I still have the dreams, but more often they are now taking a direction, instead of just random memories.

Could all this be his message to me. Perhaps. I'm not ready to say that yet. But I'm also not ready to dismiss all this as grief, and coincidence.

I guess I'll follow this path a while longer and see where it leads.