Tomorrow is Liane’s anniversary; April 20th - a date forever carved into the minds and hearts of so many people in my life. The build up to the date has been steady, a sort of low churn in my stomach, gradually ebbing and flowing. Some days have been worse than others, some days I haven’t felt the pull of it. I am feeling it now.
How can it be that she is gone for 24 months? How much has she missed? How much have those around her missed? The time feels like so long and equally so short. So much has happened and yet it seems so recent that we mourned her for the first time. I often wonder what she would think of who I am now, of how I have changed and of what I am doing. Would she approve? Would she be happy for me? When I ask these questions I try to be truthful to myself and to her memory. I think she would be happy. I think she would want for me to continue to grow. I also think she’d want me to slow down and go easier on myself.
On April 19th last year I wrote about how little I wanted the year to end (here). About how her death became less relevant. And about the senselessness of it. I also expressed a feeling that sits with me here and now on the eve of her two year anniversary:
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.
Two years… How?