Two nights ago,  I lay down to sleep and cried for an hour straight.
I haven’t cried that hard for some time now.
I haven’t felt the immense unfairness of my loss so hard for ages.
That bewilderment that he SHOULD be here, but isn’t.

….and I went back to that locked room in my brain.
The room that contains the memories from of that afternoon when I found out that Greg had died 5 hours earlier.
I turned the key.
I unlocked that door.
…and was swamped by the intense grief as that pitiful wraith in my head was unleashed,
her screaming … no
….  her keening howls drowning all other thought
drowning all other feeling.

Her shrieks so loud that I am not entirely sure that my head can contain them.

I know her screams too well.
Her screams are the echo of mine from that day that is forever etched into my mind.
They are the ones that came from my every pore when the policeman tried to tell me that Greg had not survived the accident.
They are the screams that started that day and which have never really stopped.

Most of the time, the door is locked and those screams are muffled.
Most of the time, the screams are quiet.  Whispered screams….
Most of the time, things are OK.

But sometimes, I revisit that day and it knocks me down.

….yet I know that each time I am knocked down, I get up again,