It totally sucks that Diaryland is down and I can't update today.

It's three years today.

And I am conflicted. I almost took the day off, but then I thought it would be like welcoming sadness, and what's the point of that? So I came into work and I just have a stomach problem now and then, then I work a little more. Should it feel different?

I have no idea what I did all day. I only remember it from about 10pm. I hate that memory more than any other memory I have, and yet it plays through in my mind over and over all the time. I was outside walking with Jaime when Josh and Paul ran out to get us, yelling, "It's time!" And I have never run so hard in my life, but it was too far and I was too late. Too late again, just like I had been too late getting worried about his breathing right before he turned purple and fell over and suddenly there was a code blue and I was crying in the arms of a nursing assistant because I thought the last conversation I would ever have with him would be about how to empty the damn water bed. And it was. I said a lot of things to him after that, but he never responded again. So then when he left me I was not there and I had nothing left to hold on to but a body quickly growing cold. It happens so fast.