Something and Nothing.

I moved our bed to my room at my Mum's place today.

I could no longer sleep in the single bed as it made my back hurt, so I paid a couple of men to move my marital bed here.

This is the first time I have gone to bed in it since Arthur died. I have settled the dogs under the quilt with me as usual: there is an overwhelming sense of familiarity and strangeness. Something I know well is forever changed. When do I roll over to talk to Arthur, when will I feel his weight next to me, hear his breathing, feel the heat of his body, or smell the scent of another human being that I know as well as my own? When will I talk about our beloved dogs or...but this is pointless because I know the answer. It will be never.

I am glad to have back a little of that which I had - the bed we shared; but I want Arthur back. I long for him.  If I think about it too much, it is truly horrifying, beyond endurance, so I cannot write anymore tonight.