New damage: A to-do list.

-I need to find something great to send to Loch and Keira for Hope. Something wonderful and different. I'm an aunt by default, Keira and I have common ground at last and have declared peace in a long telephone conversation this afternoon that left me warm.

-I need to have the guts to ask Sophie to stop trying to contact me. I spoke briefly with her once to let her know about Jake and I gave up and passed the phone to Sam. He passed the phone back after telling her but I couldn't talk to her.

-I need to choose new godparents for Ruth and Henry.

-I need to change my will to include Jacob's parents. I don't need to but I'd like to. One of Jacob's biggest concerns was that they might need help down the road. Pensions don't go very far and neither do fish.

-I need to keep my mouth shut when PJ wants to vent or express concern (trying to word that objectively was tough).

-I need to make it very clear to Ben that he has no stake in me. He says he knows. I don't trust myself to be satisfied with his position. I need friends, not more people fighting over me. I'm rethinking Christmas already.

-I need to hem the curtains in the living room.

-I need to get a Christmas tree for the kids.

-I need to sell the motorcycle. I thought about keeping it for Henry but that's a lot of trouble and I've had offers. John asked for first refusal.

-I need to sell the hockey gear or donate it or something.

-I need to get the description of Jacob's body out of my head from the report on the desk while I was collecting what was left of his belongings. His twisted cross and shattered new watch and his wallet that was practically emptied in the fall and torn. The backpack full of clothes and his small bible and his guitar that was left in the room. The death certification. I know there was nothing beautiful about his flight but if I dwell too long on the other I can't breathe.

-I need to sleep so I am less crazy. I know, fat chance.

-I need to figure out if I'm going to stay here or move. I need to figure out if there's a difference between holding off on making big decisions in difficult times and prolonging the inevitable. I need to weigh the pros and cons of remaining in a city that I only loved because we were stuck with each other at the time. Now that I'm not bound to it I can run. Running is not as easy as it looks. I've got two kids, 7 pets, 1 truck, a house and a wonderful therapists office riding on my whims.

As if my whims can be trusted.

Case in point: I need to call Caleb and ask him to return my hearing aids and the video he says he has.

Right, Bridget. Always think through the big decisions before you do something you might regret.

Living for miracles.

Today the world stops for a wonderful reason.

Loch became a dad early this morning, in the wee hours when most people were still sleeping. Keira gave birth to his daughter, a beautiful fuzzy blonde 5 lb 6 ounce healthy girl. Her name is Hope.

Hope.

Painted in an unfair light.

Part 5482372, Ben versus the world. Give him a break already.

One of the hardest parts about being the close friend of an alcoholic is that the mistakes they make, or the slights of their past tend to overshadow their good deeds, their efforts to change and gain trust and be better forever. As in infinitely, neverendingly.

Relentlessly.

Looking at what I have written about Ben I can see where he is made out to be the bad guy, mostly through poor self-control and impulsive and sometimes retaliatory actions. Why not? He's the yang to my yin. He and I never grew up, we never made it past the childish outbursts and petulant rock-kicking that can be at once endearing and incredibly fucking annoying.

Put us together and we take it out on each other. People have asked us why we're still friends and I could only say that sometimes there are moments of incredible clarity and gentleness between us that make it worthwhile. We are sometimes the male and female equivalent of your stereotypical asshole person. We have deep personality flaws and wild streaks and that's why we get along so well and so badly all at the same time.

I am less perfect than he is, but you knew that already.

He did come back last night, poured out all of the alcohol, made me eat dinner and sit up until I was sober and then he handed me the key from my front porch and also told me to lock the door at the end of the hall which secures the main part of the house from the den and guest room and he stayed in the guest room last night. Close enough but with enough safeguards in place to help rebuild the trust we've eroded together in the past two years.

I poured him a cup of coffee early this morning and took it to him, unlocking the hallway door and then knocking gently on the door of the room he slept in and invited him to breakfast when he opened the door and took the cup.

He asked me how I felt and I said better and then he asked if we wanted to go play in the snow today, that he would stick around if I wanted him to and hang out with the kids.

It's quarter to four and he's still here. He's piled up the snow in the backyard and is snowboarding out there on the mother of all bunny hills.

He asked me if we, if I wanted to go away for Christmas with him.

I said yes.

His family has a house in Canmore, and we're going to stay there and snowboard and celebrate Christmas quietly with the four of us and without the ghosts of Christmas past breathing down our necks. We're going to enroll the kids in snowboarding classes and we're going to teetotal our way through the holidays together as friends and not fight or be awful or be miserable like we sometimes are here.

He's going to prove that he is trustworthy and I'm going to prove that I'm still alive.

No strings, no expectations (so quash your harsh judgment) and no regrets, because I'm already looking forward to a brief change of scenery.

Liquid princess.

I'm not having more. It's 8:45 pm and I've had two bourbons and I think I'm done. Ben and I had a shouting match out the back door at 8 and once he was gone it was safe to have a drink. Chris called and I lied and said Ben was still here because it was easier than dealing with the disappointment. Who do I care if I disappoint anymore?

No one.

I don't have to answer to anyone. I'm not beholden to anyone. I'm not worried about anyone.

No, Ruth and Henry. I answer to them and everyone else can kiss my ass.

Ben said something about a holiday from the holidays and I waffled and he told me I wasn't interested in living.

Ow.

Boom. Knock the princess over with a feather.

He said he hated the princess nickname, always has. I told him it was sour grapes and besides, he doesn't get an opinion on my life and he proclaimed to be my friend.

I said, oh really?

Friends don't have hidden agendas.

He acted hurt and I told him to go to a bar and find a Bridget-look-alike and fuck off and leave me alone. He laughed and dragged his palms down his face in incredulity. I don't even care.

I don't care.

Okay I care.

I hope I can get smashed tonight and sleep and sleep and not dream and not hurt and not ache and not die a little more. I don't know how far to go with all these pills. Tomorrow Sam will call and tell me to come to church and he's no better than my mother.

Die a little more.

Ben just called and said he's coming back with food. And that he's sorry and I told him not to be, and not to come. That I was drinking and I don't want him to be exposed to it. He used to have a major drinking problem, one time during which he snuck into my bedroom and tried to touch me and frankly I don't want him to ever be like that again but I trust him when he's sober.

I don't trust me when I'm sober but drunk I think I'll be okay.

He's coming anyway. He said he wasn't going to drink and neither was I anymore.

The Leafs won against Pittsburg, 3-1. The kids have colds again, the snow never stops falling and I really can't wait to see what life throws at me next.

At night the furnace comes on every 23 minutes. I count things.

It's warmer out today, it's damp and wonderful, just like the coldest days of my former Nova Scotia winters, the kind that howl right through your bones and out the other side, as if you aren't even present.

It's a day for warm cinnamon buns and thick scarves and sitting in a chair that makes me miserable while I watch Ruth and Henry draw pictures for their counselor while we talk gently about how we feel.

I'd like to scream.

But I don't.

We stopped on the way home and got a Gingerbread house kit to make. That will be fun, I think.

Thursday was bad, yesterday was interesting and today is sort of a mix of good and difficult. Each day gets a number and today is day 37 and at this point I don't want to hear that it will get easier with time, I'd like to know how to make it easier now.

(That's 37 days since he left, not since he died.)

No.

Bad day. No post. No smiles either.

It got a smile anyway. That's something.

Everything this boy says is either stirringly profound, or impossible to read a motive into. I've given up and have taken to waiting a beat for him to explain whatever he says in detail, after it's out there. Otherwise he'd be on the receiving end of a lot more slammed doors.

Tread lightly, or you may cause the princess to cry tears of glass and then you'd be forced to walk across it to reach her, and we can't have that now, can we?

Here, an email from Ben, who gets bored being a cubicle drone downtown and likes to compose long chatty letters to us all. I'm not special.

Or am I?

Dear Baby Bee,

I remember quite a few years back where we said if for some reason we both found ourselves single we would marry each other for company and proceed to see who could annoy each other more. You said you'd leave crumbs in the butter and I said I would publically scratch my ass. You said something about curlers in bed and I spit out my coffee picturing a whole Briar Cup team in there with us. The offer stands, bee. If you want it I'm totally bored with the sluts down at the club and would love to make an honest woman of you yet. I'd also like to see if I could outlive the curse you carry. I know I could kick it's ass.

I know you'll kill me for writing this. You'll probably show it to Paddy and probably Dr. Perfect too and everyone will decide I have no class but I do not care! I only care about you being happy right now. I'll do whatever I can to see that you are and that you stay that way. I promised your big dumb husband I would never fuck up again when it came to you.

So if you won't be the Liz to my Richard let me propose this instead. Plan B (get it? Huh?). A surprise for you. Next month, over Christmas. Make no plans for the holidays, I think you might like this instead, based on the anti-holiday discussion we had the other day. I'll keep the details to myself until I see you.

Now I have to go submit a whole bunch of fucking crap invoices so I can get my monkey pat. Tomorrow-sleep in and I will make coffee and get the kids to school and then we'll get some Thai. Because if at first you don't succeed, Thai, Thai again.

See you tomorrow morning. Tell Dr. Perfect he's an asshole for me, but in the nicest possible way, k? ;)

Ben.

PS. If you want to do Thai tonight I can bring. Is it a black Thai event? Sorry, my hands are Thai'd, I have to wear jeans and wool-no tux. It's fucking cold out there, Bridge!

I would love to know what he's up to.

Morning glories.

When the sun came up this morning I opened all the drapes in every room to find a beautiful pattern etched heavily on the window panes, a testament to the warmth inside being no match for the frigid weather outside.

Ruthie said the pattern looked like feathers and I realized that she was right. They were feathers, the feathers that make up Jacob's wings, and he has wrapped his wings around this house to let us know that he is still here with us.

Spooky.

Skateboard Jesus is back. I don't know where he went for most of autumn but this afternoon he was there and that freaks me out thinking about it. It seems to be a day for history-reliving.

I gave him a fifty dollar bill. I haven't had blue keys in my bag for months. There was no one to give them to for so long. He didn't even see the bill. He closed his dirty hand around it and stared at Joel, driving the rover and then his eyes travelled back to rest on mine, so red and tired now and he nodded and said,

God Bless you, you need it, child.

He knows. I'm telling you, he knows.

Thoughts.

Jon Foreman's voice is my comfort music today and pretty much anytime I want something uplifting or just plain beautiful to hear. I'm rather picky with what I put into my damaged ears and he has never let me down. I doubt he ever will.

I wonder if he reads my journal? That would be neat-o (most of the time, anyway).

Enjoy.

PS: I'm going to try to find some silver in the lining of my shroud here. Some ups for the downs, some hope. Something good