Hmm, I am back to "if" well maybe I never strayed that far from "if" .. tho' my "if" is changed now, in that Jon's death has stolen a line of if's away, and presented me with ones that face backwards, and act only as life lessons: what if, if only, if I, if he, if we, if they, if this, if that .. the same words connect, but their meaning is changed, and the thought process has no concrete worth, nothing can be changed now and life goes on. 
Life goes on. For sure I am sadder now than I was before, aged a little, his death has cast a long shadow and darkness resides in my heart and I cannot yet see through it. I guess I'm still winded. I am back in the living world, but my living world is missing the companionship of one I loved, and that changes the way I live. Physically, perhaps not so much, but my emotional landscape is not the same. 
I look back at the time I spent with Jon, and on one hand I feel blessed and thankful for the magical days we spent together, glad to have known the sweetness of him, to have shared so many happy days and nights, and on the other I feel damned and bitter that it was so short a time, that because of who we were we failed to make good.
And if, if, if, which was running through my head as a constant refrain in the week or so before he died, not knowing what was coming, has come back buzzing like a summer fly. If is such an open word, so promising. If ... like the parcels under a christmas tree, like new year's eve, like the handle on a door not opened before, what if, what's next, what now. 
The death of another, an other that was held close, erases imagined future, obliterates hope, the space left is interesting. When Jon died I felt like I'd been transported to the middle of a vast desert (I may have said this in a previous blog) at first I felt as if I was caught in a sandstorm but as it subsided and I began to look for bearings whichever way I turned I could not really see a horizon because the land blurred into the sky, meeting as a line of burning light. And there were/are no landmarks to view to suggest a way forward, just miles of blank sand or dust. 
Slowly I have begun to add scrubby low growing plants here and there, and desert mice and snakes and scarab beetles, images my head has gleaned from watching David Attenborough and reading St Exupery I think. But essentially the landscape is still pretty bare. 
I've been trying to put this purgatorial landscape onto paper, I cannot claim success on this front, but I think the trying has value. I know that one thing leads to another, that ugly/bad work can lead to work I am more content with and willing to share with other people. It is, if nothing else, a way to blood-let, to move my grief, to map or chart my grief.
But "if" .. where is this word leading me ? It is as if I am on the cusp of something new but the pathway hasn't revealed itself yet. I seem to be holding out for something, but I'm not sure what. Is my hesitancy right or wrong ? Is it inertia or cowardice that is holding me back ? Or is my caution wise, allowing me sensible pause ? It is un-nerving. Action is positive and draws commendation. Inaction conjures up my "inner critic", my judge, my whip .. "you are lazy, useless, wasting time, you are lame, making a fuss ... move on" .. the child in me says "wait" so waiting is what I am doing, but I hope my nerves hold while I'm waiting and that I can use my waiting time usefully.