I've mentioned her before, here and there, perhaps less than I have some other women I knew, but that doesn't mean I loved her any less. Quite the opposite, in fact--I wanted her to be here for the rest of my life.
Not talking about it, here or elsewhere, made sense. There was a fear, perhaps, in making too much of it. Just enjoy it, don't overthink it. I'd done that before, I always do that, and the implosion always follows soon after. Maybe this time, with less ornamentation, the simplicity of the design could be more easily appreciated.
Or something. My metaphors need work.
The point is, Janie's gone. There was a time when I would have used this space to explore everything, good and bad, and given full vent to my feelings. But Janie is a good and private person. You don't need to know the details. Really, there aren't any details to know. It's just the nature of things to end.
Hopefully, she's happy, or at least happier than she was with me. For me, there's just a quiet, empty house. I go to work, I come home. I sleep, but I never feel rested. I eat, but nothing has much flavor. I go out, but I'm going through the motions.
And sometimes I look for my heart, only to find it gone.