like healing from a heart transplant that did not happen.
I can walk again, catch my breath most days.
But it feels like being post-surgical. I'm still walking around with a giant hole inside of me.
Like a much much MUCH poorer (and probably sadder and lonelier) Tony Stark.
Everything is different but it feels like so much has remained the same.
I miss my husband. I miss his company, his jokes, his kisses, his hugs, his laugh, and I miss my best friend.
I don't have that with anyone anymore.
I do not bore of the company of myself, but I do not wish to remain alone for 360 days a year on say, the Isle of Skye or Mann. That is not a life for me either.
It is quiet here. Disconcerting to me.