"I look up at the stars, and know you’re out there somewhere. I don’t know where you are, or what you’re doing, heck; sometimes I don’t even know who you are anymore. But it doesn’t matter to me. Not anymore. Cause in the night sky, bright or cloudy, my tired eyes become clear with clarity that this all meant something. Every smile, every tear, led me, led us, to where we are now. And maybe, you’re out there living a different life, while I watch the world go round beneath me, but that’s okay. It still means something. I don’t care if I don’t know where I’m going, cause I do know that I’ll end up where I’m meant to be.”
At first I was very afraid of going to places where H. and I had been happy, Our favorite pub, our favorite wood. But I decided to do it at once, Like sending a pilot up again as soon as possible after he’s had a crash. Unexpectedly, it makes no difference. Her absence is no more emphatic in those places than anywhere else. It’s not local at all. I suppose that if one were forbidden all salt one wouldn’t notice it much more in any one food than in another. Eating in general would be different, every day, at every meal. It is like that. The act of living is different all through. Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything.