One Little Thing at a Time

"We're going to do something," he said. Or something like it. Time moves on. I fall to the ground and cry at the cemetery. If I don't cry in his bedroom I come close to it. Time still moves on. It's not a bad dream. It's not a waking dream. How does one accept it. We sat there for an hour and neither of us made a move to get out a tree. My family is firmly in the artificial camp. So I said I would go get the pallet tree that he and MyJamie gave me last year during Christmas. It's a cute rustic tree probably cut to make you think it's made from a pallet, but probably a bit nicer. We used thumbtacks to make hooks to hang ornaments on the tree and spent about a half hour maybe and called it done. That was all my heart could do without Jamie there. Two years ago I had 3 full height trees and 2 table top trees in my little ol' ranch style house and this year I just couldn't do it. I could barely. How does one go on if the only choice is to go on?