I have cried for him....

Three shells...

three sisters...

I was always lagging behind them...taking photos...running to catch up...like I've always been since I was 2 years old..

 "Wait for me ....I'm not ready.."

 But they encouraged me, my big sisters, to climb the lemon tree that I did last year....free lemons for us all...well, scrumped lemons...although because of the drought this summer they were small and hard. And I didn't climb as high.....not confident in my flip flops....

Lantana - the  fragrant bush of our African childhood. Crush a leaf and we are all instantly transported to the back garden of our home in Lusaka and the lantana hedge running all long one  border of our property. 

We only saw graffiti occasionally... this one unusually painted into the cliffs ...don't know what this means.

Approaching Alvor from the river estuary

and past a wonderful collection of stone shrines that people had constructed along the path.

In the town where we found our favourite Italian restaurant which we re-visted several times.

One Sunday we drove out with our Portuguese friends.  Starting at one of the highest points in the Algarve - the weather station at Monchique. I took these wind turbines for Robin because he loved them....and I always remember his passion for saving the environment when I see them....and remember the good things about him.

Followed by a picnic on these rocks ....watching the fishermen...

a walk along this beach...

watching the surfers...

And an evening stroll in the busy marina at Portimao

avoiding the holiday makers and loud  music

we crossed the bridge and had hot chocolate and cakes in a quiet cafe.

One evening we looked up from reading our books on the terrace as we heard a small plane and saw this message being pulled though the sky behind it.

Vera will you marry me?

I hope she said yes.

Today

The dining room table is covered with lists and Christmas cards. Some of our friends I only write to   once a year so I've been wondering how to sum up my year, 14 months into grieving for Robin,  inside a card...too difficult...so I may just say I'm OK but I'm also not OK....not myself but also finding another self I didn't know was there....

Fourteen Months On

I have used up

and thrown away 

a forest of tissues.

I have wept for him

on the tiles of my kitchen floor.

In the cooling water of the bath.

At restaurant tables

holding the hands of my friends.

On a massage couch

tears in my ears.

On a mattress

 on wooden floor boards

beating a cushion.

On a single bed in Fiji

cradled by my sisters.

I have howled for him

in a double bed in Portugal

alone.

And at his graveside

in the wind.

I have tortured myself

with regrets.

And with yearning for one more day 

one more smile

one more breath

on my cheek.

I have drunk too much wine

and not enough soup.

I have held on

tight

till my gut

is twisted with

pain.

The truth of 

digesting

he's gone.

I have cried for him.

And for myself.

But I have also laughed

and let go 

a little bit.

So now

fourteen months on

 I can laugh

without 

feeling the guilt 

of

I'm still here and he isn't.

And I can cry 

without hurting myself 

with if only...

Now

when I weep

it's clean

and

unfettered

because 

I miss him

in 

my heart.