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Today it is two years since I last saw George. We spent our last day together in Ohio on 7 July 2005. We spent much of the day talking about our future, making plans for me to move 4,000 miles to a new life.
I still think about him a lot, but it's been a long while - months - since I cried over losing him. It's 20 months since he died and it's true what the old cliche says - time is a great healer. My heart is whole again, not broken. He was the big love of my life and I don't know if I'll ever have anything like that again, so it's best not to go looking. I'll settle instead for having a little fun. That's been a missing element in my life for too long and I need to let the fun back in.
It's also Tanabata, the star festival of Altair and Vega: the shepherd and the princess separated by a large river, able to meet only once a year despite their undying love.
My boyfriend and I claim this as our own Valentine's Day, since we spent our first six months 600 miles apart.
The simple passage of time eases pain in the most astounding way. It's creeping up on the anniversary of my first partner's death. As I pointed out to the astonishment of an old friend (of mine and of his) visiting last weekend, it will be ten years since he died, and I'm healed, whole, and truly happy.