I've come to dread quiet times because it makes me start to think too much of what is coming up.
I think about death a lot. I think about her death a lot. Different scenarios. Everything from where it might happen to what do I do once it happens to what do I do after it's all done and everyone's gone home.
And stuff. Her stuff. All the stuff. And things like wills and probate and and and and.
And, I cry, a bit, then tell myself it's not time yet, but I know it will be time soon... And every day is one more day closer to not having her in my life any more.