I was all ready to write about Seb’s birthday. I thought about all the rituals we’d built over the decade we had been in love. I had picked out all the bits that made me feel just so sad, sentiments that I have had to pack away. The cards I’ll never write. Then I just stopped thinking about it. It took me nowhere.
LP is home with me today. She was crying in the night. Everything this morning felt like a disaster to her. The last straw was a sticker that she failed to peel off her notepad without tearing the paper beneath. I kept her home- I think school might have ditched the attendance certificates this year. There will be sofa cuddles. We will put up the Christmas tree. In fact this might be the shift we both needed. Our step into Christmas.
However today is the last day of November- Seb’s day. If you knew my husband at all, you would know just how much time he would spend being amused. He found a lot of things funny. He thrived on humour. I liked his chuckle when watching Steamed Hams, totally unencumbered by the fact that I just didn’t get it. His own little idiosyncrasies. I celebrated them all, even when I just wasn’t in on the joke. I suppose the thing is that I didn’t feel that I had to pretend to be- because his online world totally got him- he didn’t need me for that bit.
Before I started to write this, I thought about this song. It’s nice, but if you know Parks and Recreation, you’ll know why it is just so charming and funny. The infectious joy of Ann Perkins reaching out to April Ludgate; joyous in the approval of Donna Meagle. If Seb had lived long enough to complete his American Office podcast, I am confident that Parks and Rec would have been next. If I think I’ve rewatched these series a great many times, then Seb would have seen them twice more again- pals for his commute; a cosy comedy blanket. I can’t look at Leslie and Ben now and at some point I’ll have to confront Eleanor and Chidi, that’s another one he may have podded about. We have put him in The Good Place. Welcome! Everything is fine.