My broken heart

I was talking to a friend the other day; his wife was upset at him and he was describing her behaviour, how she would come into the room to hand him things but wouldn't speak to him. I told him how that's a trick women do, something to make our husbands aware of our presence and how very mad we are while not speaking, just to build up some tension.

I was thinking about that today while I was getting ready; I remember when Colin and I were first together and I was so very young. I had no idea how to be in a relationship but I did angry martyr really well. And I would do that thing... stomping around the house stony-faced and mad and not saying a word. I remember the first time I really knew that I loved Colin; he said something that hurt my feelings and I did some silent, sullen stomping until he poked me in the arm and said, "I'm not going to play your game. If you have something to say just say it."

I cried today in the shower when I remembered that, cried like I did that first morning when I woke up in a new day and realised he really wasn't here anymore.

Nearly nine years dead and he can still break my heart.