129 days….

Another day. tick.

Not much to report.

Life still sucks. I want you to come home.

I remember waiting for you to come home from work each evening.  If you were ever late, I’d worry.
You’d get mad that I would worry.
“Don’t worry” you’d say.
I guess now I know that the police come and find you if there really is a problem.

Each morning, we’d share a family cuddle and the kids and I would race outside to watch you drive off, then we’d spot your car on the main road through the gap in the trees.  I had a superstition that you’d be OK so long as I watched you drive off each day, spotting your car through the gap in the trees as you went by.
Ironically, the day I didn’t watch is the day you didn’t come home.

My head knows it doesn’t make a difference, but my heart isn’t so sure.

My heart isn’t so sure of anything anymore.  ..

except for how much I love you.