Spicy Dragons & Dinosaurs

It still amazes me, when I draw a breath and realize that I will not see David again. Still there remains pockets in my heart and mind and soul that expects he will write, will call, will leave me a message, will come home. I am surviving. In a strange, strangled recovery. Recovery from the state of a loving relationship? As I read of trauma these days, I recognize my own. My triggers to heavy grief so elusive that I cannot make sense of them. There is no straight path here but a labyrinth whose center it still hidden. I turn each corner hoping the hope of a cockeyed optimist. I want to cradle and have cradled the broken heart -- mine and his. Mine now. I wish for a fellow traveller but would be bad company for anyone who did not understand me deeply.

Till death do us part -- what kind of paltry relationship is that? I think I did not listen well enough to those vows.