Or is it that I keep turning a series of corners? But this feels like a big one.
Two things happened. A new friend visited. We had a cuppa and a chat. Suddenly I was pouring out the trauma of Andrew's final weeks — the sudden collapse, the hospitalisation, the move to the nursing home, his death. I sobbed; the floodgates opened. I was a little embarrassed, a trifle apologetic, but not excessively. I must have needed it, I thought. She received it all sympathetically, and gave me a big hug afterwards; truly a new friend.
That was nine days ago. I'm sure it was indeed necessary, and helpful. I think it had to happen before I could begin to heal. If so, it couldn't have been more timely.
The other thing that happened is that, three days ago, another friend volunteered to give me a remarkable spiritual healing. Since then I haven't been feeling such intense pain about Andrew's death. I expect it with the usual triggers, but it doesn't come. There's grief, but not anguish.
It's not even six months yet, not quite. I am astounded to find myself sitting here so calm, so normal, in my situation. But, I must say, it is a great relief.