I thought that when the calendar read a year since Ian died, I would be overcome with the same raw anguish and frustration. However, I realize that it has been 365 days between then and now. That hasn't made me love less or understand more. I cannot say that I am fully at peace with never hearing him scoff, "Ohh . . ." into cupped hands or screaming "Blinded" at the top of our lungs together again. However, there has been space in those 365 days. Space that has left me strong enough to accept and to forgive. Though, not all the space in the world will allow me to think that anyone else looks better in metallic silver pants. It just can't be done.
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