i'm realizing that there are certain things i'm not ready to face, may never really be ready to face. i can't go back and read the blog entries wherein i brag about having a fantastic husband. i can't read about the day he left and don't want to see all the subsequent posts. i can't let myself imagine what exactly he was doing all those nights after work (while i was pregnant, home with a newborn) when he wasn't coming home to us. i can't examine the things i suspect he's still doing, that i have no say in now because soon he won't be my husband anymore and i can't even really call him a friend. i feel panicky when i think of the day i ran into the first woman in the park with her kids, before 'renzo was born, and braved chatting with her-even made vague plans for us all to get together. (she was also a co-worker of r's, so of course we'd been introduced.) i feel panicky when i look back at the last few months before he left and everything (in goddamn hindsight) feels like a sign of what was about to come crashing down. i can't consider all the lies he told me since he left, how we laughed together the morning after our first therapy session about how stupid this was all going to seem in a couple of years. i don't want to remember the last time he kissed me and wish i had savored it but i was stupid and thought there were countless more coming in our lifetime together. how he let me help him get ready on new year's, adjust his vest so he could go off and kiss other people at midnight. a million stupid firsts and lasts that are crystalizing. it's so much easier to just be angry, but i can't sustain that feeling for any length of time.