I certainly don’t feel I’m at war with anyone but when and if I’m told to ‘move on’, for the lack of any better phrase, the ‘under siege’ mind set may be upon me.

I am aware of all the obvious: ‘we’re all going to die, Bette is not coming back, nothing to be done for it etc..,’the-I don’t want to know-part is the heart-breaker.

The insistence on a coup d’état with regard to anything normal has me up at night gathering forces for a revolution but to what end.

The minutes, hours, days are inexorable in their bleak mundanity and mock any thought of change.

An expression Bette and I never cared for ‘it is what it is’ seems at this time to apply but that doesn’t mean I have to go along.

Why not I wonder go crazy with grief: talk out loud to Bette, see her in places she has never left, play hide and seek in the grocery store, let her name follow mine in correspondence or let her go first, keep her toothbrush in the cup next to mine, Goodwill can do without her clothes, if I sit quiet and close my eyes and wait patiently she will ask what we’re doing for my birthday and I’ll say as always “it’s just another day” and she’ll say “Like hell it is, now I want the menu or we can go out and gift suggestions, pronto”.

She will become my imaginary friend and be as real as I want her to be.

So my family and friends let us not talk of moving on but rather of being still and let not her wisp of spirit elude me.

Love To You All