It’s been ten years and all I can say is that the actual death of my husband was so traumatic that I can only remember single frames of it, and not in any order. After, for a couple of years I still don’t have complete memories, just glimpses of my life. In sepia tone. This year was the first time I’ve felt like my life could proceed in a meaningful way. I loved this essay, Rachel. I have also said, screamed into the phone, HE IS NOT HERE BECAUSE HE IS DEAD and fuck who cares if I offend anyone.