It's been just over 10 months now since DP died. Mostly I'm doing okish - I function, put a good face on most of the time, socialise, get on with things. But, oh god, every so often something comes and hits so hard that I just want to stop. Stop the world and get off, and make this not happen.
This week it was the BBC news story of the graffiti on the M6 bridges about Pies. I can't count the number of times that Pete and I wondered about it - we drove under those bridges every time we went up North or down South (depending on who's weekend it was). I want to talk to him about it, and I can't. I want to raise a glass with him to finally knowing, and to grin each time I drive under the bridge.
Masterchef was in Haworth last night - Pete and I did the touristy thing not long ago - the house (now a museum), and the village, got told off in the museum for reaching over an invisible line, and Pete told me off for misusing one of the interactive displays. Well, if you will have a felt board with velcro words, then people will make silly sentences of them :-)
I need to share a giggle with him over those memories.
So, today the mask is slipping a bit. I can't sit and cry because I'm at work, but I really want to.
Still miss him, every hour of every day.