There are good days  They are sporadic.  Bad days, a melted version of what was once me needs scraping off the floor, to be remolded into some semblance of once what was me. Good days I get out of bed, get to work and try to smile. That’s it.  Everything is bland and I notice very little around me.  At the very least, I am standing.  That is a victory.

The smell of her in her clothing, a song, the way the sky looks can totally wreck my day or make me grateful for the 14 years of pure love we shared.

She was the most gentle, compassionate person I ever knew, her love knew no boundaries.

I miss us.

A year and change has passed since we lost her.  We are buying a new home.  The process of preparing to leave the house she grew up in, laughed in, cried in and died in sucks.  A part of me feels like a traitor.

Every cupboard I clean out, the things I toss away remind me of her.  When I run across anything that was hers I set it aside.  I can’t bear to part with it.

I have not started on her rooms and closets  it’s too painful.  The future without her is painful.

Even though she left a letter for us, there will never be an explanation of why that wonderful creature is not here with us that I can accept.

So, here’s to an attempt to moving forward instead of standing in the quagmire that has swallowed us up.




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