The hours turn into days. The days turn into weeks. The weeks turn into months…
I *know* he’s gone, yet I still wait for his return; the sound of his truck in the driveway, his keys rattling in the door, his voice calling out “Lucy! I’m home!” in a Ricky Ricardo voice, his footsteps in the hall… I know in my head that none of those will ever happen, again, but my heart keeps hanging in there that this is some elaborate hoax…