I don’t remember leaving the hospital. I don’t remember much else about that night. I know that Emily slept in my bed with me, squeezing me tight. It was like she was trying to hold me together as my body exploded with grief and pain.

I wish I could remember more about those days, but then again I’m glad I don’t. I heard the stories of how I was a shell of a person just wondering around, doing as told. Two days after Alexander died we held his funeral. Emily arrived in the limo to get the children and I, that much I do remember. The rest is gone really. I remember the ride there and back in a way. I won’t say I remember the ride as in the conversation, the scenery. I remember thinking. I was thinking about my relationship with Alexander. I was thinking about the life I had lead up to that moment. I decided I would survive.

Alexander and I loved each other completely. However it wasn’t a romantic type of love, more of a sensible type of love. There were no skipped heart beats or breathless moments in our relationship. We had just fit. We took the steps in our relationship that we discussed and considered the right steps at the right time. I came to a lot of conclusions during that long ride there and back.

When we returned home we had a house full of family, they say everyone was amazed at how gracious a hostess I was in such a terrible moment. But as I said, I don’t remember.

Now I had made up my mind to be ok, but that didn’t happen right away. It took a few months for me to come out of the gloomy haze. During that time Emily had given up her townhouse and moved in with the children and I. Once I came back to myself, we decided it just made since for her to stay. Our house was large and Alexander had left us extremely well off.

It was time for me to start over.