It's just that everything I do- especially the small and everyday- force it upon me- remind me that time is progressing- further and further away from your life here on earth.
Today I gave my parents some library books that are due to return- we had them when you were here and you read all of to Audrey. I say goodbye to the books: Once Upon a Potty, Trains, Maisy Makes Gingerbread- and I say goodbye to you.
Then there is all of the food that I bought while you were alive. I bought Audrey that tub of organic animal crackers from Trader Joe's on July 4th- 2 days before your death. So you were still alive- I hate to see her finish it- but there's just a thin layer now on the bottom.
I don't want to make any big changes in the apartment- move anything around. Audrey's alphabet puzzle play mat has started peeling leaving her with red flakes on her feet and hands sometimes- but I can't imagine getting rid of it because that's how our place has looked while we lived here together.
I don't want to move anything on the refrigerator, or in A's room- even though she rarely gets changed on her changing table anymore- I just can't move the changing pad off the dresser- you changed her there- every morning- you say your little song: "Daddy's gonna change your diaper - diaper, diaper, diaper..."
Normally, I am so good at getting rid of clutter and moving on- not sentimental at all when it comes to that stuff. But back then- when things were "normal," I had you with me- you were always moving on with me. Now every change- big or little- throwing out a sponge you used in the kitchen- getting A. a booster chair instead of the high chair- takes us further from you. I don't want to leave you there Dan- in the past. I don't want to- but time is unstoppable- it is dragging me on- kicking and screaming- it drags me on.