Moving forward

Another year has gone by since that Monday morning. July 25th. The suckiest date on the planet. The day Alistair Tait died on his way to work.

I just watched the sunset on the 2 year anniversary of the last night I spent with my husband and I'm not sure where I imagined I'd be at this point, but I'm pretty certain it wasn't here. As I type this I have Penelope Pitstop - an emaciated pitbull foster puppy in my lap. And in even bigger news....

.............I have a David.


I've kept our relationship pretty private. Partly because I wanted to be sure and not jinx anything and mostly because people are judgy.

He is a gift I will never take for granted. The light at the end of a really dark tunnel. He's a runner, we go to yoga, we travel and generally have a blast. He's kind, sweet, funny, talented, smart and somehow he can love me through all the grief. From happy days to hot-mess. (Bonus points added for great pets and fabulous folk art collection).

On our last road trip, driving through central Florida in his little red Mercedes, I was looking at a line of trees after the sun had just gone down and I realized something huge. I was seeing beauty for the first time in what felt like a million years. Hmmm. Isn't that a symptom of happiness?

David knew Ali and of course, thought he was cool as shit. Which he was. We talk about him all the time together and I know beyond all doubt that he would have wanted me to tell endless stories about him  :) More than anything, he would want me to be happy and now I have my second chance.

Tomorrow is going to be a long day so I'm ending with this. A quote from the single best blog post I've ever read. One that saved me when everything was uncertain and gave me courage to open my heart to someone again. I sent it to David one night after a pretty epic breakdown. Luckily, I had been saving it for an emergency.

Enter you - the man that came after.

You stepped into my novel in a slow and gentle manner. You showed grace towards my grief. You were patient with my uncertainty. You showed a quiet understanding, an ability to listen, and allowed for space where it was necessary.

You are not him and for that I’m thankful.

You are your own amazing self and we are creating our own amazing story.

P.S. I finally feel like writing again (another symptom of happiness) so stay tuned for the exciting adventures of the middle aged as they attempt to run injury free and not gain weight (yeah, that's a thing I'll get into).