Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of the death of my wife Liane Deasy. As sentences go that is as hard to write as it is to read or understand. The senselessness of the loss is still so prevalent, and not just my loss but who we lost, what we all lost and how much that person meant and had to give. The world shines a little less brightly without her smile, her heart and her kindness in it.
In a strange way, that I'm sure many people grieving feel, I really don't want the year to end. I mean a calendar year is a construct, sure, but it's one around which our lives revolve. And for this year to end means Liane hasn't been in our lives for a full 12 months. She hasn't experienced the things I have, she hasn't seen my growth and my change, she's missed babies being born, birthdays and family occasions. The world has kept spinning and life has rattled on. The memories are less certain and the "first times without Pannie" are becoming second and third times. That sits uneasily with me.
In another sense her death isn't important any more. I know that's not true and I know many who know it's not true but there are other daily events, life milestones and hardships being visited on everyone around me. And that's hard. I want her memory to be front and central. I want her life paraded and celebrated. I want her on our minds. And those wants are unreasonable. Life doesn't work like that.
So as the next hurdle arrives tomorrow I approach it cautiously and full of fear. At this close stage to it, I just want to be passed it. And that feeling brings with it of guilt, confusion and yet more sadness.