So it's my half-birthday today I guess. I only realized that because I was thinking about the 6monthiversary of Karl's death this week, and it occurred to me that my birthday followed very shortly after. In the list of things that sort of bother me, there's a wish to know what he would have done to celebrate with me. I'm sure things were starting to take shape in his mind - who he'd invite, what he'd cook - but ever the procrastinator, he still had 3 days, so to the best of my knowledge he hadn't made a firm plan or purchased a gift. That would wait till about 3 hours before the deadline...

I'm sure he was torn between getting me a little villa in the south of France, or maybe an original Van Gogh, or perhaps a toaster. Or socks. I made a conscious and deliberate decision to spend my birthday in denial. I hadn't even been able to see him yet, so I made everybody pretend he was still with us, only couldn't be *with* us for the birthday party due to some lame excuse. Maybe he had papers to grade. Yeah, I know, that would NEVER keep him from a party, but like I said, I was in denial.

I was (and am) so grateful to my friends and family for being in denial with me - for helping me keep my birthday happy, and doing their best not to let me cry that day. 6 months later, I still don't know how I'll feel next time it rolls around, heck, I don't know what I'll feel 6 minutes from now, but I know I'm deeply grateful for the support I have. If I seem strong, it is simply a reflection of the strength and love around me. Many thanks and much love to all.

For a few weeks after Karl died, I had frequent little panic attacks. I would think about him and my heart would just race. It wasn't incapacitating, but sometimes it did scare me. I'd feel like my heart was going to explode - the physical sensation was like somebody hitting you on the back when you're coughing, only from the inside of my chest. It felt like that; like my own heart trying to thump it's way out of my chest.

I mention it now because I had a very short episode tonight. It's been months now, almost six, in fact. At first it made sense. I literally didn't know how I was going to live without him. It's hard to explain how I felt about him. I often said we were two sides of the same coin. We complimented each other, and completed each other - the warp and weft of the fabric that was us. When he died, I felt frayed, severed, halved...

In the months since, I have lived without him. Life is different. I smile a little less. I laugh a lot less. My life is beautiful, and meaningful, but I'm still numb in corners of my soul that I didn't know had feeling till I lost it. You don't think too much about the inside of your cheek till the Novocaine takes effect, and you can't stop chewing it because it's swollen to the size of a small planet.

Karl left behind a lot of parts of himself in me. I was rocking Elliot the other night, and he was fussy, and out of nowhere I called him Zanzibar. I think I even said it in the silly, Grover-esque voice Karl would use with the baby. I startled myself, because it didn't feel like I said it so much as I heard him say it. "Oh, Zanzibar, why the fussin'?" Sometimes I hear him in my head, sometimes I don't hear it till I've said something out loud, and it's not my reaction, but his coming out through me.

The last two weeks, for some reason, have been rough. I think about him a lot more. I miss him a lot more. Maybe the numb parts I can't seem to quit picking at are the parts of me that he took with him when he went. Maybe it's not so much that he was the warp, and I the weft, as we were each both, and I have to learn to function as the thinner fabric left behind when half the threads disolved. It's just hard when it's chilly - the wind gets through more easily when the weave is loose.

sniffle sniffle, ah-choo.

g'night.

Caught up on some stuff this week. The house is a little less of a disaster than usual. I have most of the laundry and dishes done, trash and recycling out, and I've even had a shower today! I'd say overall that means I'm doing well. I got up-to-date on my 365 photos today. So far I've missed 2 or 3 days, but that's not bad after over a month. I'm having trouble coming up with creative subjects, or with time to shoot the things I do think of. I hope when the weather improves I'll be more motivated to get out and shoot something. Woot woot.