It's been 3 1/2 months since Ian died. I have not been able to return to this blog during that time. I am not that strong. For much of that time, when I talked of Ian I used euphamisms - He "pased on" or "left us," or any other manner of means by which I could avoid the hardness and resolute nature of the truth.
Ian has died. At least, his body has. His soul lives on, I haven't changed my views on that. But the importance of accepting his death has come to me, with finality. Before I can get past this moment--this seemingly endless moment--in my life, I need to accept his death for what it is.
And still, I heal, if only slowly. My remaining sons heal, and Ian's mother heals. Everyone heals, but we all go through the process differently. For some people, those differences create great rifts in their relationships. Count my wife and I in with those numbers.
We have moved on, leaving our relationship behind. I hope it becomes a part of our healing, and not an impediment.
There is a tree, a sacred ash, which spans heaven and hell, and it is ever green.
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