And so, a year has passed.  One would think that in 365.25 days even the deepest wound would be more or less healed.  I think that I may have been locked in the denial phase for the entire year. I never saw an obituary, though I searched often for one, and still do. No closure, just a note that said “this morning she lost her brave battle”.  Moments shared confined now to the hall of memories, which even  though pleasant, are yet painful. So, on with year two.