I'm sitting here, watching the clock tick round.
Soon it will hit 0750. After that, it will get to 0802. At some point in that time frame, between a rough accident time and an exact time of death, R died.
Even typing that is so weird still. Even thinking about it.
I've seen him at the hospital, on the day he died.
We went to the place it happened yesterday.
It's still not real, still not happening.
My house is full of people all the time, who look at me out of the corner of their eyes perpetually, just to check what I am doing and how I am. Who keep asking me to eat and drink.
I had a few hours sleep last night, between about 1 and 5 sometime. And I woke up, and slid my hand back, and he wasn't there.
Oh God he wasn't there. He will never be there. Never.
I cannot explain to anyone how this feels, even though everyone asks, all the time. So I say it's ok.
It's not. It's like a thunderstorm, where everything is rain filled but ok, and then from nowhere there is lightning and thunder and the skies flood the world with rain, but then it goes back to plain rain again, until the next time. and the next time. And the next time.
I want him to hold me, stroke my back and kiss the top of me head and tell me everything will be alright.
Except the reason it isn't alright is that it's him that has gone.