I saw the movie tonight, with good friends who kept me company. I enjoyed it, from the eye-candy to the hints of Vampire Weekend playing when the two main characters first met.

It made me miss Jon. It made me want to be loved. It made me want Jon to be here, so I can fall asleep in his arms and enjoy the feeling of his body, wrapped around mine.

Sometimes, I miss that so much, I ache. His scent, his skin, his hand in mine. I miss the way he couldn’t help but touch me when we were spooning, and how he would breathe into my neck and set my skin ablaze with goosebumps. The things we did, when we were just Jon and Maria, were effortless. Our love was effortless.

I miss being effortless.

Lately, things take serious effort. The effort to sleep. The effort to wake. The effort to focus, and to avoid the idiots around me who think they can identify with my pain. No, not the friends who love me and want me to be happy again some day.  But those who know they can’t imagine what I’m dealing with, and try to anyway.

I suppose it’s a noble effort, but I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. Why try to live vicariously through a widow? It’s bizarre.

There’s a part where Hilary Swank calls her dead husband’s cell and listens to his voice mail over and over again. I have done this. I cry, and listen to his voice and I can feel his mouth. I can imagine him speaking. I miss the way he spoke.

Someday, Weslee will hear his recorded voice and know that the voice she hears in her dreamiest dreams is that of her wonderful father, who loves her faithfully, from his place in Paradise.

My friend wants to run away to Ireland in April of next year. The thought intrigues me and scares me. What will I find in Ireland?

I suppose there is only one way to find out.

My love…I still feel you with me. Thank you…it’s my new reason to keep smiling. I can cry and smile at the same time. I know you’re dead, and I am working on accepting that. But otherwise, I feel you. I know you’re there.

Goodnight, sweet prince.

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