Ruminating. My counsellor defined it as giving deep thought to something… Well, he was my counsellor until I saw him when he was ridiculously drunk at a beer and wine festival where he proceeded to follow me around and give me hugs all night. I chose not to see him after that… Too awkward.

Anyway… Ruminating. Obsessing. Mulling over. Apparently it’s not advantageous when it’s about something you cannot change.. Like your partner being killed when completing his day job.

I once read on someone’s Facebook status that I should ruminate about the things I want to make different in my life. The person giving this advice had just had a baby and gotten married. I wanted to punch her in the face.

I tend to ruminate a lot. What we could have done differently. If we had never met. If he hadn’t gone to work that day… But I also live this weird parallel universe life, where I imagine what could have been.

I imagine our baby Molly. Our house that we painstakingly renovated together, the constant debates over minute details and the trials and tribulations of having to live and work In a temporary construction zone. Hell, I’ve even imagined our proposal!

Just before he died Chris would spend 20 minutes a day with our puppy training her different tricks. The last trick he was developing, which he never had the time of fully teaching her, he would call out “Find mum” and make her race through the rooms until she found me and jumped on me, giving her a treat as a reward.

I lost myself down the rabbit hole imagining that perhaps he had been training her that trick so that one day he could attach a diamond ring to her collar, and there he would be behind her, on bended knee.

OK,  in reality he was probably just teaching her that trick because he thought it was funny that he could get a puppy to jump all over me at a moments notice, whether I was in the shower or on the toilet or otherwise! But still…

And therein lies the problem with ruminating.