Think of yourself when you were five years old – maybe your first day of school, maybe your first car ride. You see yourself as someone else – that cute kid with the curly hair or bright red sweater – almost like you were looking at yourself in a book.
As I ponder my life now – after nineteen months of widowhood – I see myself in that two dimensional way. I vision myself with my husband like a picture in a book. He is gone and so is she. That woman I see in my memory is someone else now – someone not lost but also not recoverable. I am not her now…I am not her….
