Getting through the days

  A bad day yesterday. I woke from a dream in which I'd been helping to prepare for some sort of celebration, and had suddenly realised that David was missing.  In a panic, I asked the people around me if they'd seen him?  Oh yes, he was here about an hour ago .  Where did he go?  They weren't sure.  I ran from room to room, looking for him.  I'd just hit on the idea of sending him a text (although I was sure that he hadn't turned his phone on) when I woke up.  It upset me out of all proportion and I teared up whenever I thought of it.   So let's dwell on the happy memories.   People who knew both of us often assumed that we'd met at work, or at least worked at the same place when we met, but that came later and it was all David's fault.  He  loved the idea of us going in to work and coming home together, but I wasn't sure that working in the civil service was something I wanted to do.  I'd had a summer job ...

I'm t aking life one day at a time. There are good times and bad times.  I can keep the grief under control for much of the time.  Once in a while the loss becomes too much.  That's when I choose to have a good day and bring to mind the happy memories.  I hope you don't mind if I share them with you, but I will warn you, there's a certain amount of soppiness in this post. That summer of 1996 was wonderful and terrifying and completely unreal.  I'd expected to remain with the man I'd been married to for over twenty years for the rest of my days.  I'd have told you, in all honesty, that I loved him.  I wouldn't have believed that I could be overwhelmed with feelings so powerful that they could not be ignored.  I'd fallen hard for this sweet, funny, geeky little man and I now realise that, for the first time in my life, I was truly in love.   Being apart was torture.  We met, secretly, as often as we could and I lived for the...