I don't know why it happens, but every once in a while, it sneaks up and hits me. I'll be doing something innocuous... driving home, maybe, listening to the radio when a love song comes on. Or maybe standing in the shower, figuring out how I'm going to get all this month's bills paid, and also eat.
And then I think of Her, and I wonder how she's doing. I wish that there were something I could do to help. And that's when I remember that our separation is her choice. That she could have had all the help I can offer, but rejected it; rejected me.
And I feel the pain of the loss all over again.