She dropped the bombshell just as we were wrapping things up. I was so blown away that you could have found pieces of me 100 miles away.
"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?" I struggled to get the words out because I could feel myself breaking down. I fought hard against the tears.
"I'm sorry, I thought I'd already told you."
I didn't want to cry, not for the usual reason of pride, but it was the end of the session, and I knew we didn't have time to talk about it now. That made it worse, of course. But I didn't want to hold her back.
4 weeks. She's gone 4 weeks.
In the car, I broke down, cried like someone had just died. In a sense, someone did.
Have you ever been hurt so deeply that you could feel a physical ache in your heart? Have you ever cried so hard you could feel as if your heart was literally being broken and you could feel that ache reach all the way to the extremities of your fingers?
She's gone. Everyone's gone. Everyone's going off to have a great time.
And I've been left behind like a stray dog.