The other day I wrote, it would be wonderful to have a husband, but I don’t need one. It’s true but I’m trying to figure out when I realized it. Always? No, I grew up not just wanting a husband, but needing one, because I didn’t believe my life could be complete without one. Since I had the same one for so long, the need for one was strong after he died, when I was alone for the first time in my life. In reality that need wasn’t about any husband, but my husband. I needed him back, not wanting or needing just any husband. I longed for the intimacy we shared, but not desiring intimacy with another. I longed for our close friendship and his love, but not with/from another man. I was loved much and even looking deep within myself, I can’t find love missing from my heart. I wish I put aside the impossible sooner, he’s not coming back, I can’t replace him. Moving on to what’s left, which is me, and I need me, so I better get comfortable with me, like me, and fix me so I can be the best me I can be.