I didn't miss it. I know it was yesterday, but I didn't miss it. I spent 20 minutes of it curled up on the floor crying about it.
I've been allowing my emotions to take more control lately. For so long I've just put the emotion of losing my best friend, lover, and most trusted ally in a box. I've rationalized that since I already knew she was dying, there was no sense being upset about it after the fact. But then my mind started wandering back to the ICU waiting room, when they were extubating her, and how desperate I was to get back to her side.
And every time my mind goes there, my heart just shatters. I miss her so much.
Every day I face challenges, be they insignificant or gargantuan, that would be so much easier to deal with if she were still here.
And more and more I find myself stewing in grief.
But the crying feels really good. It feels pure and cleansing and horribly wonderful. It feels like the first thing I've done to heal me.
And since I've started letting myself cry again, Alastair and I have been getting on better. We've been doing more whimsical fun stuff, like going out for ice cream or buying random new toys or just having 30-minute pillow-fights. And every time we undertake some flight-of-fancy, it's because Amanda has popped into my head and almost told me that it's something we should do.
I feel her presence far more these days than I have in a long while.