As I have mentioned previously time is such a strange concept this year. While chatting with my therapist last week we talked about how time is going fast and yet slow in equal measure. I cried a lot about John last week and mentioned this in my session. What I hadn’t anticipated was my revelation about how I have been thinking a fair bit about my wedding ring. My eye has fallen upon it a number of times this week, and I sobbed as I told my therapist “I just don’t know what it means any more.” This is such an alien thought to me. It used to hold more meaning than possibly any other material object I own, and so to find myself questioning its meaning only under lines my heartbreak over being widowed. I can’t stop thinking, “Till death do us part” and its has. Because of death we are apart. The marriage is over. Obviously I know this, but sometimes I really have to remind myself. So do I stop wearing it? Do I swop it to the other hand? What does it mean not to wear it? Am I in someway giving up on my memories of being married? Am I somehow denying what I had with John? What will other people say? How is it going to look? I don’t suppose it’s any surprise that the CEEC video that was released last week would stir things right up for me about everything, but I hadn’t realised how it would make me think through different parts of my life once again. My therapist said to me, “Well Vicky, like everything you do, I’m sure given the amount of thinking time you have in lockdown it will all have been well thought through.” I find myself once again, trying to hold everything in balance. I need to remember, things are not black and white. Things can be both/and. They can and more often than not, they are.