So, now it has been eight weeks since I said the first goodbye to v. It doesn't get easier. We've gone through clothing, tools, and all the odds and ends that are left behind. It doesn't get any easier. There are crystal clear days with hardly a tear and there are moments when I can't gasp out a word. Every week feels like a month, a year, a brief moment. That soul filling presence just isn't there, no hands to hold, no rustle of the morning paper, no words of advice if something isn't right, no shared surprises. The leaves are opening on the trees in the garden and not one ever met his eyes. How can that be? It doesn't get easier.
In bocca al lupo. m (no v)
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