It's taken me nearly 8 months to make my way over here, because the time wasn't right. But now, that John's ashes have been committed, and that was the last thing that I needed to do for him, the time is now. After nearly 50 years together, like so many of you, I feel frightened of what the future holds for me. I look for things to keep me occupied during the day, and most of the time, I can cope (ish), but once the evening shadows fall, so do my spirits. I started sleeping on my 2 seater settee a couple of years ago, when John developed a passion for nocturnal cuisine. Alas his version was to light the gas, and then drape a tea towel over the flame. As my settee is opposite the kitchen, and he always turned the light on first, this wakened me before more fires could occur. I've tried sleeping in beds a few times, to no avail, but now my son and his family have returned, and I have a double and a single bed available, I thought I would make the effort. But after 3 nights of tossing and turning, I'm thinking of returning to the settee. I yearn for the John of yesteryear to be with me. I ache for his company, and I still cry buckets. Naturally, I nail a smile on my face whenever anyone enquires as to my health, but every time a friend, colleague or neighbour complains about their other half, I feel like throttling them. I read about people who have presumably "died from a broken heart", after the loss of a partner, and have thought, both jealously and angrily "well I'm broken hearted too, so why haven't we been reunited?", and then try to give myself a good telling off. I know there's no magic cure for those endless silent evenings, that flow into nights, and then dawn rises, but I know I can't be the only one experiencing this. But oh! - how I wish I didn't belong to that club.