The First Day of the Rest of My Life as a Widower

I should have learned from this — that I needed comfort though said I did not. It was to become a motif.

all of it accompanied by a hollow, echoing silence, as though I am in the eye of a hurricane or adrift in outer space

Two examples of “sensitive” men, though we didn’t talk about feelings — they were simply there.

I am bleeding through time and space.

A part of me is functioning — walking, talking, doing what’s necessary — my brain simply remembering what its former functions were, but no longer connected.