07-10-03,I remember the first few weeks after my husband died , I couldn't go to a store or anywhere where I didn't realize we had just been there a few days or weeks prior.
I broke down the first few days after his murder and began to cry at the pickle aisle . I realized that I would never buy the man pickles again.
I would never do anything with him again.
I remember his face in bits and pieces and I see his pictures around me and I remember that this man loved me .
And now he's gone. My love has nowhere to go .
It's scattered with his ashes in the wind over the spokane river where he was strewn..
