The hardest parts of the grief are the unexpected parts, the anger at the passing of time, the jolt of remembering death when you've been so busy (moving house etc), the guilt of forgetting for just that brief moment. The reluctance to throw away a gift card because it has his name on it, even if he didn't write it. Discovering all the notes he sent me (we had a deal, he wrote me, I text him - he liked his phone, I always loved his handwriting), making sure his photo is the first thing that has pride of place on the bookcase, before remembering, again, that he won't see our new house. Wishing he was here to identify the plants I don't know... I didn't even know I wanted him to do that, but he would have and I would have asked him.
I've struggled to take photos recently, my phojo (photography mojo) has always been connected to my emotions, and that part of me is so deep in grief right now - it doesn't want distractions or to notice the details around us right now - which is so unusual, as my blog name indicates. But that part of me needs space, and time to get used to this new normal, and I'm ok with waiting and giving it all the time it needs, trying to give myself all the time I need. My cameras are always waiting, they are reassuring like that.