Lists ...

My beloved loved making lists.

Ticking things off those lists, not so much, but he made wonderful lists.

Early in our relationship, I asked him to make a list of what he wanted. A few days later, he pulled two sheets of paper from his pocket and commenced what was more like a job interview for the position of being his partner.

Future plans, where I wanted to live, how to introduce me to his son to be sure we liked each other.

Not inappropriate considering his former job as a high-flying management consultant.

The evening before he died, we made a list together. I wrote as by then it had become a joke between us that I was his much-needed Personal Assistant, his "helpie horse" as we termed it.

It's time to start making my own lists.

Make the bed

I sent this video to my love, to inspire and encourage him. He changed the lives of many people, not only mine.

(Though he did have a little insecurity about Navy SEALs and my military networks.)

It's Saturday, so I've begun by not only making my bed, but making it with fresh linen. That doesn't seem much if you don't know raw grief, but is a huge achievement if you do.

Upgrade the job

The reasons for taking a non-challenging job no longer apply, so it's time to step up to something more challenging. I like the company I work for and my colleagues have nursed me through the most difficult time of my life so I'm looking at options there first.

I'm also looking at other options, mostly working in communications for organisations that deal with mental health and other challenges. It's a field we both wanted to work in, and the few disagreements my love and I had were over how much of other people's pain he took on himself.

Move

Moving back to my apartment has been hard, and has made me realise it's not where I want to be.

I think I'll move to Richmond, as we intended to do together, but there's no urgency to do so. My lease here runs til February, so I have till then to make a decision.

That decision needs to include whether I stay in Melbourne, or even Australia, where I don't have much of a support system, and work on building one.

I'm giving myself until February for that decision also.

Unpack

There's one more box to put away, but it's full of very personal things so I can only handle one piece at a time, and then I have to decide what to do with it. There's no timeline for that as each is different and unexpected.

There are personal letters and notes, both from and to him, and other items that spark deeply visceral feelings.

That may also take until February, or perhaps beyond.

Forgive

Forgive the world, forgive whatever supreme beings or consciousness are so capricious as to bring the perfect person into my life, have him love me for who I am and love who I am, then snatch him away so quickly.

Forgive my love, for leaving before we had really begun. For passing so peacefully and so at peace but so much sooner than he should have.

I envy him his end - going to bed with positive plans for the future, and in the loving embrace of the partner he had chosen to venture forth with. But his race ended painfully soon, and I was in it for a marathon, not a sprint.

We'd been joking about which nursing home I would put him in. He liked the idea of the Club facilities at Regis, particularly the aperitif trolley.

Forgive myself, for all the "what ifs" and "if onlys", and understand I could not have changed the fact of his leaving, but I was able to change the manner of it and his final weeks.

Learn to value money

This seems counterintuitive, and counter to my very essence, but one thing I have learned from my love is that money actually matters.

That it can be used as a tool for good as well as evil.

That the scripture speaks of the love of money as the root of evil, not the money itself.

I've lived my life on social currency, adventure stories and strong-forged friendships.

My love's passing, in a manner I envisioned for myself, makes me realise it may not be so gentle for me (is unlikely to be, if the rest of my life is anything to judge by) and I need to put things in place for that.

Or board a yacht and sail to Palmerston atoll where my friend Sherrin is the school Principal, and become an unofficial writer-in-residence and chronicle the locals' stories.

Be an illegal migrant in the last place anyone would expect an illegal migrant to choose.

Channel my inner Hemingway, but in an Irish-Maori Wahine Toa manner.

Not such a bad idea, when I think of it, but I need to view money as a tool in doing that also. There are friends and backers I need to repay.

Play

This is so hard and so important - I need to honour him by continuing to play.

Laugh with friends, share silly stories, sit with Dave and admire the beautiful people walking past and point out those he might have missed.

Take my time deciding if I want to continue with my love's sport, and I am on a practice team today.

The new coach is being my ideal of what a US High School coach would be and championing and protecting me as the club implodes around us.

Steve would be shaking his head at the shenanigans.

Eat, Sleep, Yoga

I'm having difficulty eating and sleeping, even with regular yoga practice.

I probably need more exercise. Yoga aids my mental health but doesn't exhaust me.

I'm seeing my doctor on Tuesday. Ironically, exactly four weeks from the appointment my love had with him, the morning he did not wake.

I'll ask his advice and listen.

He's not a miracle worker, but he has been for me. I was hoping he would be for my beloved also.

I plan to cook tomorrow. Prepare a week of lunches, make a soup or stew, bake cookies or brownies as a thank you to my colleagues for bearing with me and being kind to me.

Write

Part of the planned move was setting aside a room for a joint office, for me to write in the early mornings and him to work when he woke.

There are a couple of Children's Books I had in mind, including the tale of how Raf found his tribe.

 but now, it's time to play ...