This week has been a time of transition.
It was the first day of autumn earlier this week. A new season on its way. Time to pack away the summer dresses and get out the cosy jumper dresses, tunics and leggings. As much as I love summer, there is something comforting about those clothes.
It is also a time of transition because Saturday marks six months since Hugo’s death.
We humans like to mark the passage of time. In a funny way, it feels strange marking the six month anniversary because it’s not like anything will change or can change. It’s not like I’ll suddenly be ‘better’ because the calendar says it’s a certain date. I’ve given up hoping I’ll wake up one morning to discover it was all an awful nightmare; I smile more; and there are more good days than bad, so there has been progress.
I also don’t like marking it because it’s another day further away from Hugo, and another day hurtling towards the awful first milestones like the first Christmas, his first birthday, and the first anniversary of his death.
But it is a useful marker to take stock of everything that has happened – and consider what the next six months might bring. I don’t know what will happen next, but I can only hope the next six months can surely not be as bad as the previous six.