Three weeks ago my favorite person on the planet died.  The hardest part of coming to terms with that is knowing that I was his favorite person too.  Now I'm nobody's favorite person, except my own, and sometimes lately, I even wonder about that.

It's so hard to watch the person you love most in the world dying before your eyes and knowing there is nothing you or anyone else can do to stop it.  It's worse than helplessness, worse than heartbreaking.  It's surreal... as if it's happening in slow motion, and yet so quickly that you can scarcely take it all in.

I've never watched anyone die before.  It's not like you think it will be.  It's not a movie.  You don't just cut to the next scene and move the story forward.  You can't just say goodbye so easily.  At least I couldn't.

I found myself standing there after everyone else had left the room, still talking to him, telling him that I would be waiting for him to send me directions so I could find him again in the next life.  I couldn't stop trying to wash the blood off of his face.  I just knew that he wouldn't have wanted to go out with a dirty face.

It's weird to think of myself as a widow now, a strange situation indeed.

We were always so closely knit together, it's as if without him, I find myself unravelling.  If only I knew what I'm supposed to do now, what to think, how to be.

I've thought of myself as his wife for so long, I've almost forgotten who I am without him.

One of the most important things we had in common was writing.  I'm hoping that this diary will help me to stay connected with my memories of our life together, while rediscovering myself again and all the challenges and triumphs that entails.

Wish me luck, dear diary.  Today my journey begins.