A promise

 I realised as I lay in bed last night that the end of my previous post might have made out that Tall was controlling, that he tried to tell me how I should be. It couldn't be further from the truth.

Tall championed me. He always had faith in me, even when I didn't have faith in myself. He never tried to change me, unlike my first husband, he simply loved me for who I was, warts and all. In return I loved Tall in exactly the same way. It's one of the reasons that I know we were soulmates, we loved each other, never wishing to change a single thing about the other. So I feel I owe it to Tall to explain what I meant about not being the woman Tall had wanted me to be. 

We had months knowing that Tall's health was declining, months that Tall used to get his affairs in order. One of the things he wanted was to make sure I would be okay. We had many conversations about what would happen to me when he was gone. Many of his plans didn't work out as friends and family, that he was sure would step up, simply stepped away. Along with his plans on how to continue the business was the plan that I should find someone else. Despite my repeatedly tearful replies that I could never love someone else, Tall insisted I must try, saying I had too much love to give to spend my life alone. Eventually I agreed, if only to stop him talking about it so often. Three years on, and with the clarity of reaching a different place in my grief, I can see that my acceptance of Tall's suggestion wasn't so much for me, but for him. He needed to know that I would be okay, even if he was leaving me. I realise now that the guilt he was feeling must have been awful for him. We had spent so many years joined at the hip, and he knew how hard it was going to be, having to continue our journeys alone. The promise that he made me give him eased his passing, and I know that he would understand that in my own way I have kept that promise. I have rediscovered the Good Cheer Pixie, and with her help, I don't need anyone else to love me.