In 20 weeks, it will be 3 years.
It has started to dawn on me that this is irreversible. It is final. He is gone and is not coming back. Ever. So far I was living in the third person. All of this was happening to someone else and I was just observing and documenting the proceedings as an interested spectator. A curious on-looker.
By a brisk random stroke of the proverbial brush, I had been shoved on to an alien canvas where I met wonderful people. They shared extra-ordinary insights. They had survived some harrowing traumas. Some, a long time ago. They came together and supported each other and there I was, one amongst them.
Somewhere deep inside, I imagined that another crude brush-stroke would flick me back on to the old canvas and things would go back to being as they were. But it is becoming clear that I’ll have to stay here, in this landscape, for as long as I live. There is no way back. No return. No re-entry. No u-turn.
At the start, his smell was in my clothes, his voice echoed around the house, his drums played in the back-ground, his favourite foods sat in the pantry, his clothes appeared in the wash, letters arrived in his name. Today, the batteries in the weighing scales died. He had put them in. It felt like something precious was snatched away, again.
With time, the distance is increasing. Between which two points? I am not sure.
Infinity and me?