This day

It's May 18. Wayne would be/is 77 today.
I guess it is terribly inaccurate to say  is. So be it.

I went to the cemetery yesterday, I suppose to get it done. I mean no disrespect, and I do like the spot we chose for him--and me when I die, which I don't want to do, especially because I know how far down that coffin is. But I do not feel his presence there. Perhaps if I stayed for hours I would.

I left a red rose and a rose-colored carnation in a very humble vase. They are in the corner on his headstone.

What is this about?

Just that he is my husband. I have moved on, so to speak, but I am not "over" it, his death. And by now I may be able to accept that he is "better off." That's been a hard one, although that is what people insist and say.

And I do not consider myself single, which means I do not go to the singles dinners and firesides and so on, no matter how often I'm "invited" or "encouraged" to go or told I really should go because they're so much fun and "so and so" always goes. Like that should matter.

One more time: I'm not single. I'm married. He's just not here. Enough said? I suppose so.

Did I mention I miss him?