18 months.

In the other trouser leg of time, Rich didn't go on his bike, and didn't die.  In the other leg, one of our babies survived, and is sleeping in a Moses basket next to me. In the other leg, Lori has been horrendous since the baby was well on the way, and has told BG we love the baby more than her.  AC is a happy and loved child, relishing being a big brother. In the other leg, I am still a RAF girlfriend, and our world is a secure, safe, filled place.

But in a different leg, he went on his  bike, and had the accident and survived.  In that leg, he is paraplegic, consistently in awful pain, (for such were his injuries) and is finally home with us.  In that leg, he is not the man he was, is angry at life in a chair, hates the restrictions, but is trying to be brave and stoical.  In that leg, Lori has finally, mockingly, divorced him, as he is no good to her anymore, and we are married.

In this leg, he went on his bike, and it is 18 months since he died.  In this leg, J is asleep upstairs, and our 9 month old love is wrapped around both of us.  In this leg, AC is thinking about how lucky he is to have had two stepdads who love him and look after him, just in different ways now that Rich has died.  In this leg, we are blessed by T-boy, more grandparents, and a silence from over the Pond.  In this leg tentative questions have been asked, and answered, and the world is a good and love filled place.

In all the legs, and the ones I haven't considered, there are good things and bad.

But he did go on his bike, and he did die, and I did hold his hand in the Chapel of Rest, and I do love him.  Today I am thinking about the Chapel a lot.  For some reason I can remember the feel of his uniform, the smell of the rosemary, lavender and thyme we placed around him, the feel of his staff in my hand as I laid it in his coffin, and the feel of his hand and arm as I moved it to around his staff properly.  I can see the scars of his body, and the cloth that covered his feet for reasons only I now know.  I can feel the touch of his skin, his hair in my fingers as I ran my hand through it, the feel of the flag, the strength of the medal.  For some reason, today, all that is accompanying me where ever I go, whatever I do.

And in a weird way, it's ok.  It's not something that I was horrified by, or traumatised by, or something that gives me nightmares.  I don't just remember him that way, or just remember the things the lovely undertaker lady said that day, I remember all kinds of things, but sometimes there is nothing until I need it, or want it.  And other days, like today, it's like I'm living two moments at once.

But in this leg, I can be held in strong arms that cherish me, I can be tickled by not-so-little hands that love me, I can go to work with friends who support us, and today is a day that I can do.

Unlike the first month.  http://itwillallbefine.blogspot.com/2009_08_17_archive.html

Time does...... change things..........

*I* remember.