Yes Honey, I know.

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To get to our church and a particular café where a volunteer group often meets I have to drive through our central business district.  I find that I always drive the route that Ian always drove.  That's probably why I go that way.

It is one of the most efficient ways to cross the city from the north-west corner to the south-east, but also the most memory-laden route for me.

It passes a pub that he worked at during his university days, a job he very much enjoyed.  EVERY time we drove past he'd say 'I used to work there'.  And every time I'd say 'Yes honey, I know'.  And now often I drive past and hear this conversation - sometimes I find I even respond aloud. 

I also used to work at the other end of this street, and Ian would always pick me up from work.  

Sometimes I don't have a problem driving past the pick-up point; I'm focused on what I'm doing.  Other times I get flashes of grief, especially if I get stuck at the intersection.  It's very much a heavy heart moment the times they do hit, and I find I have to look at other things happening on the street to bring me back to the present.

Of course, when Ian was driving me home from work, we'd have to go past his old workplace:

'I used to work there'. 
'Yes honey, I know'.

'I used to work there'. 
'Yes honey, I know'.

'I used to work there'. 
'Yes honey, I know'.

'I used to work there'. 
'Yes honey, I know'.

'I used to work there'. 
'Yes honey, I know'.

I do feel sorry for my son... I feel I'm getting close to (repeatedly) saying 'Daddy used to work there'.  

I guess in time I should expect 'Yes Mummy, I know'.