A year after your death I was still drinking.
I had sex with your husband and was virtually bankrupt. I slept on your cold gravestone many a night. It amazed me that the rose bush planted in memory of you bloomed almost all year round. I ate some of the petals I’m not sure why, but they made no difference to my state of mind. Your children are gone now, your husband too. They couldn’t live without you.
But I had no choice.