Those Left Behind

Walking into work was hard today. Funny thing is, I didn't expect it to be - I didn't arrive at work thinking this is going to be hard. You wouldn't expect a particular day to have such a tangible effect. But turns out it does. Walking up the path to HQ, all I could think of was the first day he brought me in for my interview. Walked up the same frickin' path didn't we. Then the elevators and his comment about the traffic lights (the elevator doors in our building are coloured green, yellow and red on the three floors). We used to steal a kiss in the elevator sometimes; not the glass one, obviously, but the one leading up from the creche, on our way after dropping off sproglet.
I realised that I had unconsciously started a ritual; both this year and the last, around this time, I started reading his blog. I remember the night he died, desperate searching for it online, scared to death that it would be missing because he hadn't been active for some time. But it was all there and still is. I have mirrored it though, just to be safe. There's a note to the kiddo that she has to see someday  - I don't know whether she's ready yet. Or perhaps I'm not. Her tears about her dad are the ones that sear me the most.

This was a good year, you would have liked it.

You're missing the world bunny, and it breaks my heart.