It’s storming now thank God… I cannot bear this shit. This constant tragedy. This constant wishing for love that will never be.

I can’t do much today but watch these old Westerns and think of you… How much I miss you. How much I wish I could crawl right into that grave with you…

I can see you clear as day. Sitting over there in front of the TV in your rocker with the green cushion… We used to watch all those old shows together.. Gunsmoke and Have Gun will Travel were our favorites, but you liked Ben Cartwright… Just not Bonanza…

The spirit, though I would rather have it, than nothing at all is not the same.

Your spirit, though it tries, cannot wrap it’s warm, solid arms around me and tell me it’s okay.

There is no home to run to anymore.

I miss you. More than life itself right now…