5 months out.

I have to admit, the 5-month mark was infinitely more painful and miserable than the one month mark.

Why is that, I wonder?

This week I've spent hours in bed - not really sleeping, as such, just laying there, missing you and wondering why this had to happen.

I - stupidly - reread one of my medical textbooks. Yup, the section on congestive heart failure. I couldn't help thinking "Oh sweetheart, you never stood a chance".

Retrospect being what it is, I do know that doing so made it worse.

Then again, perhaps that's the masochist in me.

(Bad Joke Alert)

Masochist: Hit me, hurt me!
Sadist: No......

Anyway.

We're now almost into June, and there are still times that I just cannot - will not? - comprehend that you're not here. You'd think I'd be used to the emptiness, the pain, the sheer agony of waking up without you. No, no I'm not used to it. I'm not sure I ever will be used to it.

Again, I've had a friend say to me, "Oh, hon...I know how you feel. My divorce was just awful".

No, hon, you really don't know how this feels. Divorce is a LOT different. I've done that, too.

Grief isn't loss OF love.

Grief is loss IN love.

Admittedly, I'd never want her to actually understand that difference. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy, either.

I'm going to have home-made curried shrimp, and a large rum and coke.

Know why?

Because I can.

(That's another thing. I have money. I hate that - the ONLY reason I have money is because you died. I fucking hate that)

I miss you, Wombat.

Sigh.