I am writing this today
because tomorrow I will be away.
I am shocked that it has been a year.
I feel as though I have been in a fog most of the time.
A quote on the back of Joyce Carol Oates book,
A Widow's Story says
of the widow's countless death-duties
there is really just one that matters:
on the first anniversary of her husbands death,
the widow should think
'I kept myself alive.'
I did that.
Some days were easier than others.
Most days were spent going through the motions,
then going home and collapsing.
I don't know how this next year will be.
The numbness is wearing off.
The hurt is beginning.
He is with me always.