Most of the time I'm pretty good.  I lead a busy life, even if most of it is solo.  I practice guitar, yoga, write (well, edit at the moment), look after the animals and the house, feed the agisted horses, visit Richard daily, walk an hour every day.  Don't leave myself much time to be sad.

But not leaving myself much time to be sad doesn't mean it's gone away.  I've been tired, really tired and lack of energy is not usual for me.  And I cry more easily.   Maybe the loss of Nairobi has temporarily tipped the balance. 

Writing this because I needed to say - despite the fullness of life - how much I miss Richard even though I act as though I don't.  I don't miss the dementia Richard and the mess and the confusion and the difficulty communicating, the fear of falling, the smell, the TIME it took - but I miss HIM.  Today, while holding him in my arms, my head resting on his shoulder, he kissed the top of my head.  Like he used to.  That glimmer of the past breaking through the hallucinations and the gibberish and the fog - a kiss.  I wept silently, secretly.  And missed my love and miss him still.