There is no forgetting in grief. Lethe is an illusion. Always, there is something waiting, a reminder, a memory. For a long time, this causes pain. Later on, there is less pain, but still sadness. Eventually, blessedly, that morphs into a sort of unsettled nostalgia, and finally, happiness at being reminded.
I am not there today.
This is still early times, and I try to be patient with myself while simultaneously keeping a hand on the reins so I don't bolt over a cliff somewhere over something that might be considered negligible later. Adam got mail from LSU today; the neurologist has apparently not gotten the memo, and set him up for an appointment at the clinic to be evaluated. I look at this thing and I want to say it doesn't matter, but a part of me, that part of me that wants something or someone to be at fault so I can be angry, looks at this with a deep sense of helplessness. I also look at it as a message from Adam... he is saying "See, I listened to you. I was trying. It didn't happen on our timeline, but look. I was taking care of business. I heard you when you said I was important and you wanted me to do this."