I wake up ungodly early in the morning. I retreat to my studio. There I can scream as much as I need to. Noah ensured that I have a sound proof room so I can deal with my emotions without bothering anyone. Now I come out here and scream at the top of my lungs because I want Noah back. I scream his name over and over. My throat has been hoarse all year.

I am cleaning and consolidating things in the house. I’m getting rid of stuff in layers. I’m reorganising.

I’m scared to stay in this house. It’s expensive. I’m super sad to think of leaving because my garden is *amazing* and will keep improving with every passing year.

A couple of years ago I started talking about looking forward to my 60th birthday. I want to throw a party. Only I can’t imagine doing so without Noah. I can’t imagine much being joyful without Noah. Only he really was awful at my birthdays? I don’t know why I am so convinced that things will be worse without him? Because everything is worse without him. Sleeping, eating, breathing is worse without him. I miss him so much that I feel like I want to do anything I can to get out of being alive. I should take up every vice. Any hobby that might shorten my lifespan goes on the list.

I used to believe that it was ok for me to hit 70 because Noah would be there with me. Instead, like my brother and my father I am going to catch up to him in age and then overtake him. Noah stopped at 48. My dad stopped at 48. It feels like I am so bad that men can’t live longer than that when I am in the picture.

Thus I am dating someone who is over 50. I am skipping the danger zone.

My soul hurts. I don’t want to move forward. I don’t have a choice. I decided to have three children. My baby is only 7. I don’t get to stop. I feel like I have one foot in the grave already because I don’t want to be here. I don’t feel suicidal.

It is weird how I feel completely unentitled to ever consider suicide again. I never get to quit. I am not my father. I don’t get to choose to wuss out on the hard part. I can’t leave my kids alone. When Noah was still around it was different. It would be awful but they would still be loved and cared for. Now I have to fight to stay alive more so than ever before.

My garden is flourishing this year. It’s super freaking hot and everything is growing with manic delight. It’s over 20C on the regular and that’s pretty absurd up here. Maxed out at 28C. (That’s 82F for you Americans.) It will cross 80F fewer than 10 days out of the year. I used to have that many days of crossing 100F. This is better. Fremont was a good micro-climate for California. I am in a delightful temperate patch in Scotland. I don’t get the worst of the wind or rain or snow.

I feel overwhelmed with sadness and grief. I feel flattened. I feel like I cannot cope and move forward. It doesn’t matter how I feel. It matters what I do.

I will move forward.