It's been so very difficult for me to even think about writing. I keep thinking I should be figuring out how to bring him back, trying to figure out exactly what to do that will prevent this from becoming a reality. I still keep feeling there is something out there I can do to turn back the hands of time and that I must find it.   The idea that this is reality has not crept into my vocabulary yet. I've not yet let go of the idea I will wake up from this nightmare. Each day that goes by blurs into yesterday - tomorrow is the same as today and today is just as painful as yesterday. I can hardly believe it's been almost a year of Eric's absence because I'm still expecting him to walk in the back door.

Each day that goes by isn't immune to the longing for the same day last year. "When Eric was still alive," I've kept saying to myself as each day presents itself and I remember what we were doing last year at this time - when Eric was still alive. I dread the day when I can no longer say to myself, "last year at this time."And the day is looming as my anxiety grows.