We used to sit on this swing with either a cup of coffee or a G & T and gently sway to and fro, discussing this and that. We moved the swing from our last house along with numerous enormous plants that were wedding gifts. Now his ashes sit in the big pots near the swing and help the two roses burst forth each summer.Tomorrow I meet up with another widower at a local Garden Centre (not the one I worked briefly in). But I hold no hope of anything coming of it. No-one is like my lovely departed man and never will be. I rather think I will be a shoulder to cry on for this man who has only been widowed for one year. No time at all! Here I am two and a half years' down the line and still hurting, but I can't tell him that. I will have to give him some hope.
Some days the pain is muted. Other days it is still as raw as the first weeks after he died. So, I went online today and downloaded three courses that I'm interested in doing: a) Garden Design b) Archaeology and c) Holistic Massage Therapy. It's a close run thing as to which I shall choose.
Got to do something to prove I'm still alive and breathing on this unforgiving planet.
