Last Sunday was the fourth anniversary of Christina’s passing. I wrote the following lines a year ago:
“I remember the first anniversary of her death as a bittersweet celebration of her life, in which I sheltered like a hermit crab. The second year passed on a swell of faith and joy. But now the third year had ushered in a cold loneliness and the guilt of fading Grief.”
So what of the fourth?
I was happy.
There are no doors in my mind that are now too painful to open; no memories that I need to avoid.
It was a beautiful day – a day of reminiscence and soft smiles.
In the early evening I pottered around my garden and took the photograph below.
It seemed to fit.