I am probably repeating myself but, well, welcome to my world. I still dream of Peter, wake up with him in my mind and I suppose that is not surprising, as troubling as his death is. I can’t abide speaking of him in the past tense and get an eerie feeling whenever I contemplate the void created by his absence, the void he has entered, the void we are all headed to. I go to the blog his sister Gretl has set up and look at the photographs of Peter, his work, and sigh and get sad and angry and cry again and wonder why am I doing this to myself?

I am trying to understand, to comprehend how this could happen and how could I have underestimated how much I loved him, how much he meant to me. I know that I am also mourning the part of me that is gone because he is gone, a critical, transitional phase of my life that he Continue reading →