It started two nights ago, I saw the Blick bag on Ian's bed and the first thing I thought of, was how much we enjoyed shopping there that day. I remembered Ian seeing the store while we were stuck on Santa Monica Blvd (we moved 3 blocks in 30 minutes) and we all said, "heck with this - we might as well park, eat and shop", so we did. Ian was in artist heaven....so many supplies and so few projects to work on. Then we found that little hole-in-the-wall Asian restaurant (Vietnamese, I think?) and in typical Ian style, he had to try it out. I remembered all these things first, before I remembered we were in Santa Monica in the first place for his first appointment with Dr. Pinter-Brown. I remembered the happy memories first, I think that's a step in the right direction.
We had some good things happen the last couple of days - I almost felt normal. I got a call from a publishing company about possibly publishing my Caring Bridge posts. I was so excited, I was practically bouncing off the walls - and I haven't bounced for years! Then suddenly I thought, 'I wish Ian was here to see this' and that was all it took; I lost it. I went from ecstatic to blubbering in 5 second flat. I just keep saying, "I wish Ian was here, I wish Ian was here". And somewhere, in my heart, I could hear him shouting in my ear, "I'm here mom, I'm here". How silly am I? But it helped. To think he might be seeing this, knowing that I'm trying to do my best to honor his request to get it published.....I'm trying sweetie. Mostly, I'm leaving it up to God; He's gonna do, what He's gonna do.
Ian's room is all painted, now we begin to hang his art. But the room is still his, his shirts are hanging in the closet, the shelves are filled with his books and his clothes are still in the dresser; one step at a time.
Still missing you Ian.
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