Day 128

I don't know when it happened, but at some point the flu-like feeling of exhaustion dissipated and was replaced by a fierce lack of concentration. Imagine trying to add numbers in your head while a marching band circles around you and a man with a megaphone shouts out random numbers. That's about the level of distraction that I'm working with at all times. The other widows call it "the fog". It's worse than a fog. It's more active than a fog. It swirls with rage and rarely takes my utter despair at its existence into consideration when it ebbs.
Today I'm going through and archiving old pictures from my last computer. I don't want to lose one ounce of the tangible evidence that I have of his existence. I know it is inevitable that I will misplace things, or lose them entirely. That idea is just crushing to me.
The process moves along...