This Old Town

Writing the last part of Oliver's life is something that is just so hard to sit down at the computer and do. But I do it in my head all day. I constantly replay everything that happened in my head. I talk about it over and over with my mother. Steve and I constantly question everything and wonder the typical what ifs that everybody says are a waste of time but you do it anyway. I know it will take me a while with my laptop to actually write down what happened, but I'm not giving myself that time right now.

Steve works terribly long hours at his job - not his fault, so I am left to myself for days on end.
This isn't an overly exciting prospect to one who was supposed to be spending these days nursing, changing diapers and cooing, so I have been hitting the town - London town that is. I had to get over the depressing part of being alone all of the time. Steve said, "People all over the world long to come to London and see all of the sights."

"Yes," I wailed, "But not alooooone." But I'm over that now. Since Friday, I've been hoofing my way up and down Oxford Street, through Piccadily Circus, Leicester Square, Trafalgar Square, into Westminster, Hyde Park, the museums. Yesterday I learned the difference between a road rage honk and a honk at the girl with two legs and a head walking down the street (I got six of those) and while I was in Hyde Park snapping photos, this French guy came up to me and told me I have beautiful eyes (so original) and asked me to spend the day with him. I held off telling him that my son just died so leave me alone, because for some reason that was my first inclination. I hope that goes away soon. But I was flattered, so I smiled and told him that I have a somebody. He said, "But I would like to see you again." He grinned and waited for me to fall into his arms and say that he was the man of my dreams and I can't imagine living another day without him and his French accent and puppy dog eyes. I laughed and said, "Sorry, I am leaving for America soon. Have a lovely time in London." I saw him hours later as I was walking down Bayswater Road. After we passed each other we both looked back and laughed as our eyes met. Weird that in a city of millions of people I would see the same stranger twice in one day.

So that is what I do with myself while I wait to go back to Seattle. Today I do it again. First a doctor appointment and then I head to the West End to fill my memory card up with pictures like this one.But no matter how much I try to drown myself in the architecture and beauty of the city, I still feel a horrible twinge of pain everytime I look down from the Jacobean harp detailing to see the tens of strollers lining the sidewalks around me. I can't help but look at the person pushing and issue her a silent plea to appreciate every day with her child, because, no matter how trite it sounds, life really can be so fleeting.

Today makes two weeks since we said goodbye to Oliver. That is longer than he was here with us. Still I find that hard to fathom.