Ten years in which I have learned to keep busy, and the sense of accomplishment from that, alone, is a sort of partial compensation.
I get a twinge when anyone makes any reference to "putting a gun to your head," or any visual reminder of such. A concealable reaction, so it's all good. Can't expect people to walk on eggshells around me forever. It's not always people...it could be a line in a script or a gesture by a character in a movie. I can live with it.
I also wince a little when I see a bald pate, fringed round with silver. Silly, I know, but I can live with that, too.
I have mostly managed to replace my memory of his last few moments with memories of the times we had fun, so...yay me.
We had that epic trip in 2003--the one where I learned to love driving. A lasting joy.
He would have been an articulate voice against the chaos. And a reasonable one. The shoulder that used to shield me from the terrors is gone, and I have learned to deal with that.
Once again, I thank from the bottom of my heart the friends who rallied round in so many ways...I would not have got through it without you!
I miss him. I expect I always will.