... today is 3 months.
I had an email yesterday, which was a surprise, from the She-Ex, to say that yesterday was 3 months, by her maths and she hoped we were doing ok. Yesterday we were. But 3 months is today. 13 weeks was yesterday. Petty, aren't I.
But I didn't have to do any maths, because it's ingrained in my life. And I'm glad.
Glad?
Yes, I'm glad.
Glad because it hurts so much because he meant so much.
Glad because I know how long it is without checking.
Glad because I can celebrate his passing again, on my own, without any fakery from others.
Glad because I can celebrate his passing with some of his real friends tonight.
Glad because I know he loves us, and he knows we love him.
Real love.
Real deep unchanging glorious technicolour love.
Not something to be replaced with just another warm body in the bed - I have no need for all that.
Not something to be replaced with just another number to text, or address to email - I have friends for that.
Not something to be packed up, given away, thrown away, left behind.
Real deep love, that a man has for the woman of his hearth and heart, and that she has for him. Real respectful love, that a child has for his parents, and his parents have for him. AC was not the child of his body, but he was a child of his heart, and the child of his hearth.
Today, I glory in having known him, and deciding that whilst life is what we make it, so is death, and I will not mourn today.
