3 years gone.

hard to believe it is three years since I've seen your face. heard your laugh. felt your touch. I started the day in solace, visiting your grave. sitting alone in the sun, looking at the trees just talking to you.
Then the day went downhill. my first husband felt that today was a good day to harangue me, even after reminding him that it was the anniversary of your death. He has little to do with me, except to sit in judgement of my mental health. I am so weary. He wants me to see my therapist more often. I want to be able to afford it. I am proud of my road back to health. He never expresses support, only criticism. Why, today of all days, did he choose to beat me down? 
I miss my man. I miss our life together. 
It is so hard to be so alone. noone to put on the line that says who to call in an emergency.
Noone to choose colors with me.
Noone to watch our son grow up with me. to laugh at his triumphs and his little four year old jokes.
Noone to hold me when I feel alone.
Noone to make me feel less alone.
Shoot me down when I am already melancholy. so sad and so cruel.
I wish I could go back in time. I'd be in London, or Portafino, drinking coffee and laughing by your side. holding hands in the Meditterranean. loving all day.
sleeping by your side.
I still leave room for you in our bed.