widow

It will be five months next Tuesday since Mike's heart stopped. Some nights I can still feel the warmth of him as I lay that last hour with my head on his chest. I can hear the beat of his heart growing softer, slower, until it finally stopped. I still can't quite grasp that: here, not here, with me, gone. I haven't been able to write anything, though I have the urge some days. I am sad, grieving, but also finding myself again. The last two years were a hell beyond anything I'd ever experienced. A death is excruciating. In slow motion, it's beyond tolerance. Still, I'm here. Standing. Not writing, but here. Maybe soon. Life as I've known it for 20 years is becoming something else. Mike, Michael, my sweetheart, my only love. What now?