A change is about to occur here in my house.
Next month, Mr. X is going to be moving in with me.
We have been dating for almost a year and I feel like it is time.
We feel like it is time.
Time to step up our relationship to the next level.
On May Day, it will become our home.
I was nervous about announcing this.
I am sure some people will be shocked that in less than two years since Roger's death I am ready to have someone else move in.
However, I felt like I was stalling my decision for the sake of what other's think.
For other's feelings.
For society's rules.
For what others deem as normal and good.
But that was not fair to Mr. X.
It was not fair to me.
It is a scary change.
Commitment-phobia is slightly engaged.
Death-phobia is highly engaged.
But it is also exciting.
However, I hate the term "moving on".
No, I am not moving on.
I am moving forward. Life moves forward.
"Moving on" sounds like I am forgetting Roger.
I still think of him.
Every. Single. Day.
I still have tears that gently roll off my cheeks every once in a while.
I still love Roger.
And I love Mr. X.
Amazingly, I can do both.