Just took the dogs out. The night was cold and crispy and the sky clear, and the first thing I saw was a shooting star.

Something I didn't mention yesterday to anybody, online or in the flesh, was that yesterday was the sixth anniversary of John's death. I certainly didn't forget it - rather, I made a conscious decision not to react to it in a sentimental or melancholy fashion. John - although he was both an idealist and a romantic in his own cynical, snarky way - was one of the least sentimental people I ever met, and the last person in the world to expect me to remember our love in any other way except living and loving as hard and as well as I could. So that was what I did.

But the star felt like a tangible, visible sign to go with the less obvious ones of the last few months. For the first time in six years, I dare to hope he may have forgiven me.
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From: [identity profile] kleesrosegarden.livejournal.com


Umm *at a slight loss * sounds like you've some fairly complex things going on.

I take it that John is an ex-partner or very close friend of yours who has passed away who you'd had some kind of altercation with before he died.

Assuming that I understood you - sounds like yours is the best way to remember someone. I lost someone a while back - three and a half years now - and my favourite way of remembering Martin is the sarcastic bitchy comments he used to make. I do things sometimes and then it comes to me how he would have reacted to them and it cracks me up. I don't do anniversaries with him, and I don't put words into his mouth. But every now and then I *hear* him say something in reaction to something I say or do, and it usually makes me laugh.

Miss him lots. Guess you miss John too. Such is life.

*hug*
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From: [identity profile] lizblackdog.livejournal.com


My husband. It's not a thing I talk about very much - daft of me to behave as though everyone knew, especially as I'm such a serial adder.

I've discovered that when you love somebody, the joy of having known them will always outweigh the pain of having lost them - or at least, it will once you've survived the first raw, broken days/months/years.

I never stop missing him.

From: [identity profile] kleesrosegarden.livejournal.com


*sorry for foot/mouth stuff*

I know exactly what you mean, although my situation with Martin was very different. I still miss him and hear him a lot - you know what I mean? - but if he had never been part of my life I wouldn't have done some of the fairly extreme things I have done. All of which were joyous! I still *blame* him for getting me out of my rut and making me move to Ecuador. He just added so much to my life, and my experience of my life, that I feel I've a lot to feel thankful for for having had him around.

But I've no idea what it's like to have lost someone as prominent in your life as John; tough times. Really tough times. Sounds like you're experiencing your life to the full, though, and that's always the best memorial.

*friendly beer passed across*
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From: [identity profile] lizblackdog.livejournal.com


It broke me - really broke me, and although I've put myself back together quite successfully, it took years and the cracks will always be visible - however, Nietzsche (did I spell that right?) was absolutely right. I am stronger now than I ever thought I could be. And happier than I thought I would be again.

I'm sorry that you lost Martin. He sounds like somebody well worth having known.

From: [identity profile] kleesrosegarden.livejournal.com


That which doesn't kill you...

Yes, I get it; although most of me wishes that we didn't need to be made stronger. But that would be *lala land*, and this is real life, I suppose.

I am glad I knew Mart and gladder that I have memories of him that 1) make me smile 2) make me squirm and 3) make me feel like I've just ingested eels. I'm happier with my confused and conflicted memories of him than I am with some people who are still around. He was an original.

Sounds like John was, too, or he wouldn't have affected you so deeply. I'm raising a glass in his honour.


From: [identity profile] indranee.livejournal.com


>>I've discovered that when you love somebody, the joy of having known them will always outweigh the pain of having lost them - or at least, it will once you've survived the first raw, broken days/months/years.<<

truer words were never spoken.

you're in my thoughts, Liz.

stay well.

indrani.
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