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Today is Valentine's Day and I'm sitting alone at my kitchen table, utterly too thankful that the kids went to bed by 8pm. And I'm not even drinking wine!

My Valentine's celebrations were Sunday night. I would say it should have also included last night, Monday, as well, but it was definitely not the same as Sunday for many reasons. Sunday was full of surprises and champagne and sex (well, that just makes any day better) and a general, "we really like each other" feel and "we're both going to show it all night". I like those days with Damian. Last night, not so much. It felt there were time lines and two different dinners to make and the reminder that someone has an early start to their weekday. Bah humbug. Alas, I had Sunday. I also this morning alone at his place with a brand new coffee maker and a view of the city I never tire of. I don't think I should complain.

It's been a weird week. Amid the plans for the weekend's Valentine's celebrations, there have been many many plans for my mom of an entirely different nature. She will very soon be a "Beaches" or "Beach" resident. I say Beaches, but I'm sure I'd get my head bitten off by the Beaches people that say it's the Beach. Tomato Tomato. She's moving and moving very soon. March 1st soon. I will no longer ever really have the need to go to Ajax, except to see Shmore's family.

It is now also hitting me more that I will never be in that house ever again. And even though Dad dying in my old room haunts me, I won't even have that room to be haunted by in my life. It will be someone else's bedroom and I will never see it again. It's a bit overwhelming.

Overwhelming is also my mother. God love her, is the saying that comes to mind. I know my sister and I do love her, but boy oh boy it's been tough taking care of so much. You find parenting a parent as challenging as parenting a child. Hate to say it like that, but it's kind of accurate. The worst part is, I'm not even doing all the parenting. God love my sister, I wll say next. Calls, plans, calls, confirmations, lawyers, real estate agents, bill companies and a new landlord. Not for her, for my mom. It's been a crazy journey and how my sister has held it together, I don't know. I think my dad has worked more than one miracle since his death. She, my mom, has survived, and so have we, the children. And we haven't just survived this winter, and not only every new month of the first year without him. We have just survived and we have continued on. I don't say "moved on" because you never quite do after you lose someone, do you? You can move on physically, but I don't think you ever move on mentally. Anguish and grief linger longer than bitterness or guilt. Bad emotions all around. But onwards and upwards I say (in a British accent, yes). Where else is there to go?

And so it was fitting that on the day my mom sees what will now be HER new apartment in the city, and the evening which she agreed to babysit for me, I went and got my fourth (and not final) tattoo, the one I would have scripted out for me but in my father's memory. I hope he saw it all from that beautiful place I see heaven to be. Saw how little I grimaced, saw how proud I was at the finished product. Saw Damian holding my hand the entire (near) 2 hours. It's done and healing well as I knew it would. It's brightened me and my last few days since I've had it. Made me a bit happier, like when you smile to yourself when you know a secret that no one else knows. That's what the new ink on my left ribcage is. A small secret that when I think of it, makes me feel better. Onwards and upwards. (And thank you, Bill).