No promise for tomorrow

Our seven years together left me with thousands of memories. Most of them are not interesting enough to write about, but still they're mine. I don't know what to do with them though. Who could understand or appreciate the "nasty oatmeal that he fed to the dogs" memory? No one. And there's so many others.

I killed a spider this morning. It was HUGE and possibly lethal (I may be exaggerating but I'm not sure) and unfortunately the remedy involved taking the detachable shower head and spraying the bathroom walls and ceiling but it's DEAD. I did it.

I don't like it when I read critical statements of widows who never remarry. I read things that describe someone as too consumed with grief to properly move on, or being stuck in the past. Or when authors say "My marriage was so good I wanted to do it again." I don't mean to criticize those who have gone on to remarry, but I take that like, so if I never remarry, that means I had a bad marriage? I don't want to forget and move on. Nobody could replace or even come close to my husband.