Three years and one day.  This I cannot wrap my mind around, it feels like it was just yesterday.

This will be shortish as I am traveling back to Portland.  I decided after they died that I needed to be as far away from Portland as possible for the death anniversary.  To be there, as you have seen from the past few weeks, I anticipate that my mind would flood with so many memories from that day I would need to be in a catatonic state. So, instead, I take Fi and escape.  I realize now with three under my belt that if I could, I would leave for the entire month.  I did a good job of it this past month with a trip to San Francisco, Phoenix, and Hawaii. This year I let Fi decide, she chose Hawaii, I chose the Big Island.  I realize now that I am trying to create beautiful memories to counteract the horrific one that occupies that day. Yesterday we went to Volcano National Park, and was astounded by the many sights on the way, with seeing madame Pele live in action for the finale.

I was hoping that my body would cooperate more this week. But it didn’t. I had snippets here and there of it relaxing, being in the moment. Mostly when I was in the water, which is magical and healing here, especially when you look up and see a sea turtle near you and look down into a salt water fish tank any collector would be envious of. I cherish those moments as they compete with my mind playing the movie over and over of those days before they died. Saturday I woke up teary and my eyes never stopped leaking the entire day. I was edgy, sounds were amplified, and my body I swear was shaking the entire day.  I call them my Bells days. These are the days where the grief around her is right on the edge. I miss her everyday, but I have to stuff that grief in a vault, because when it bubbles to the surface, I can’t think straight, I can’t remember a conversation from an hour ago, I can’t make decisions, you get the picture, it is like I am paralyzed. Walking through an historic park with Fi, the scenery abound, I was thinking of Bells on the couch, a minute before. Now, I was not ther when it happened, but I know enough for my mind to conjure up its own replay. I don’t want this. I have asked for a lobotomy jokingly but serious to my shrink. The thoughts that crowd my mind make me want it to stop under any circumstances.  I understand how someone in so much pain can make that decision to do anything to stop it. That is where my compassion for Jesse comes in. I now with perspective know that intense and sharp pain will pass. I know to reach out, I want to stay. It is not just Fi anymore. That was the anchor that kept me here for so long. The only thing. But there is more now. And for that, I am eternally grateful.

Swimming with sea turtles

A view from the botanical gardens we visited

Pele live in action, yeah, that is lava!