It was just 5 years ago, today, that we met. I was 50 years old back then. Now, it's been 9 months since I lost him. A refrain keeps running through my head: I got cheated.

I understand what stood in the way . . . at least, as much as I can. God's heard me gripe about it and, still, I recognize some of the factors that came into play and I don't blame God. In some ways, that stinks. I wish I had some 'bad guy' to point a finger at. Unfortunately, it just is what it is.

Since I've been here, I've been doing what I can (not enough) to help settle my parents' estate. Last weekend, I was at their husked-out home, helping to empty it out a little more. We have new buyers in the wings, waiting to get the OK on a loan and move forward. Although I didn't grow up there, it was 'home' longer than the place I was a child.

After two years and four hard losses, I'm finishing 9 months of aftermath. It sucks to still be crying. Still, I spent some time from a friend I 'inherited' from my love, today, and to remember I still can laugh. I just hope the day comes, soon, when the tears aren't there, too.