His death was almost the end of me.
He was still everywhere, surrounding me.
In our children's eyes, in the smell lingering in our bed, in candy bar wrappers stuffed down the side of the minivan driver door.
He was everywhere except where I needed him to be.
In my arms, kissing my lips, on the name of the deed to our house.
When his death didn't end me, the proposal from the man who owned every moment of my life, did.
My husband carried on in the places he wanted to be but I was gone the moment I agreed.
The moment I let him have me, was the end of me.