It struck me last night that there is a part of me that lives as if he is coming home. I struggle with changing anything-because down deep I think that one day he will walk through the door and ask me about the changes. I analyzed this-is this the way I have felt since he died-or is this now? I have come to accept that my thoughts vary from day to day but do I really believe that he is coming home?
It is hard to accept the finality of his death, at least for me. We lived together for so long-that it feels surreal to be without him. It is like suspended animation and one day I will wake up and there we will all be. So do I cling to the way things were done before he died because there is comfort in that-or am I so in denial that I cannot move on? Of course, I would like to believe in the former-that I am finding comfort where I can, and that with time, I will fully incorporate a reality without him.
October 7th is approaching and he would have been 56 years old. I was prepared to let this go without any acknowledgment-after all, Bruce would say he can't have a birthday if he is dead. But I know that it is in my thoughts. Birthdays are a big deal to me, a way to celebrate a life. Even, I guess, a life cut short.
Happy Birthday week, Bruce.