And So The Month ......

                                                          Source
...... is marching on.  Swiftly.
I can't believe today is the 12th.
The 18th will be upon me in the blink of an eye.

But, interestingly enough, this year has been different.
So far.
And that's all I'm going by.
So far.

It's not that I haven't shed some tears.  I have.
It's difficult not to.
What with all of the romantic movies on, the Christmas specials, the Christmas "family" commercials, all of the things that so loudly point out that my family isn't "perfect".
Not that it ever was, but you ALL know what I mean.

It's not the same.
It won't ever be the same.
And I still hate that.

But this month, these days of the Death March, haven't been dragging me down like they usually do.  I don't even have that thought in my head every day.  And that's TOTALLY weird.
And wonderful.
And a relief.
A very huge relief.

It doesn't feel as if my body is remembering as much as it has before.  My body seems to be letting go of the annual march.
Or at least I think it is.
The 18th isn't here yet.
Neither is Christmas.
Or New Year's Eve.

But at least this New Year's Eve I have a totally different plan.
Thank God.

OSU is playing in a bowl game on January 1st.
In Dallas.
So Son #3, Son #1 (since he lives there) and I are going to the game.
Thank.
You.
God.

Maybe it's been different this year because the month started off on such a fun high.
Being in NYC with wonderful friends and finally deciding that, yes, I do want to live there.
At least part of the year (less than 186 days, half the year ...... or the city and state of NY will kick my butt in taxes).
It's given me something to focus on, to plan for.
Something that had, and has, nothing to do with Jim.
Other than the fact that I wouldn't be doing this if he were alive.

Maybe it's different because it's time for it to be different.
Maybe.
I hope that's what it is.
Time.

Being different doesn't mean that I miss him less.
Or I think of him less.
Or love him less.
It just means that these days hurt me less.
And I'm all for less hurt.

I still cry.
I still cry as I write this kind of stuff.
I still cry when I say, or think, "I miss him".
I think that thought, those words, will always make me cry.

And I still cry when I see movies or read books that remind me in any way of him ....... of losing him.
Like "Lincoln".
Boy, did I cry.
As soon as Lincoln put on his coat to go to the theatre, turned to the few men closest to him and said, "I guess it's time for me to go.  But I wish I could stay here."
Oh.
My.
Lord.
I lost it.
And still lose it when I think about that scene.

Because I can imagine Jim saying that, instead of "I'll see you later."
I can imagine, that had he known he'd never wake up from that surgery, he would've said, "I guess it's time for me to go.  But I wish I could stay here."

I wish it for him.
I wished it for Mary Lincoln, as I wept for her, too.
I wished it for all of us.

Wishes.
Sometimes ..... a waste of time.
But sometimes ...... nice.

So anyway, it was a very good movie.
Very good.
Even if it made me a mess.

But at least I'm not as much of a mess as I've been the last 4 years.
Not yet.
Hopefully not at all.

Here's to hope.
:)