Sasha's presence in our present

Sasha's absence inserts itself into my present continually, memories arriving, playing out, producing high emotions and tears or sometimes just an ache in the heart, then pushed aside by sights or sounds, returning later at a quieter moment.

Saturday night we visited the Big House for the first time in over 6 months to see Kim and Terry and the boys. The garden was full of the sounds of Jonah and Henry playing on the swing and slide and having sword fights and doing all the wonderful kid planning that 4 year olds do. Jonah and Oliver were Sasha's friends, Oliver is two weeks older than Sasha. Oliver was busy fishing trucks out of the blow up pool and I could see Sasha pushing Oliver out of her way and patting the dogs and eating chips and dip. After dinner, I sat outside listening to all the laughter from the kitchen and sunk into the wood easy chair cycling through images of Sasha, then momentarily closing that door and going inside to find Sasha's friend drinking up Dora with his juice as Pam and Mia relax after a feed.

Sunday we came up to Dorset to join Henry, Marcia and Sean. We had a wonderful weekend up here with Sasha last summer and I knew the cottage would be full of memories, walking along the deck, by the firepit, throwing clothes in the den. It was good to hangout, watch movies, make dinner and talk. Marcia remembered Sasha flying around their house at Kate's baby naming and we spoke of ideas for Mia's naming.

Monday was one long sleep in. Mia likes to sleep during the day and is now keeping Pammy up all night with feeds and snacks, falling asleep, then awakening 15 minutes later for more. So Pam is pooped. And she has intense moments of sadness, which we share. And it was good to hear Pam remember how sweet Sasha was and say, this time, even if she knew we only had two years together she wouldnt have changed anything. We continually see-saw between cherishing and missing, smiles and sadness, Sasha's absence and presence.

This morning was overcast so the exposed deck was comfortably cool and I sat watching Sam running around the garden, drinking a morning coffee, hearing the birds chirp, the sounds of neighbour's kids planning the day, a few drops of warm rain. I dreamt about Sasha last night, but like many of my dreams caught between short sleeps, the specifics are lost. I tried to remember it, but the outlines were gone, leaving a comfortable Sasha imprint on my waking up, a little lump in the back of my throat. I read over recent comments: "one day will wake up feeling lighter and able to remember with happiness" and the latest from a nurse at Sick Kids, celebrating that place where "cherub-faced little blonde girls who love ice chips and Jack Johnson lullabies still get to be kids" and I could feel Sasha all around, in all the molecules of air stretching out across the lake and up to the clouds.

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