I ache. I miss her. I am incredibly lonely. Abby is preternaturally calm, Leiney the definition of grief.

I am sad. My world has come to an end. The memories we shared died  with her. 

I can't read the memorials, the testimonials, watch the videos. I am sure all that they contain are truths. That other truths exist is a trite observation and even so it seems as impossible to understand as strong theory.

I stayed with Jenny nearly 6 hours after she took her last breath. I held her. I stroked her hair. I kissed her cold flesh. I napped snuggling up against her taut, gaunt, lifeless body. I didn't want her to go, but I did not cling to her when they finally came for the corpse. I did not beg for another minute of solitude. Solitude, that is such a terrible word, when describing time spent with your spouse.

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