There are times, even now, that I have to stop myself. I have to stop myself from typing Anna's name into Outlook, stop myself from picking up my work phone and calling her. We have an instant message client at work now, and I can imagine sending her random smilies.
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.