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There are times, even now, when I wonder what she thinks about something, and I am so very close to asking her, that I can almost hear her voice.
There are times, even now, when I form the words pulmonary embolism, and 36 in my mind, and my mind explores around them, and I cannot fathom them. I cannot reconcile Anna dead and gone.
I look at the note from her on my cabinet at work, and I cannot believe it wasn't just sent yesterday.
And I see the pictures of Emma's birthday party, and I cannot believe that Anna wasn't there.
And there are times, even now, when I am about to do something else, and I stop in at Facebook, and I see the odd shot, amidst all of them that her husband posted tonight, and I cannot stop. My eyes fill with tears and my hands come to my mouth.
And even now, I cannot believe how much I miss her, and how much this hurts.