Six years on, and my head is once again filled with memories that, let's just say, aren't the happiest, but still something I wouldn't want to lose. By now, life had become pretty difficult for Gary, but not impossible. Not yet.
Mobility was becoming an issue, and it wasn't long after now, that his final outing took place. Nothing fancy mind, just a trip to Halfords that was a disaster, but that's another story.
Gary's legs were beginning to look like they were on upside down. His once incredibly muscular thighs had morphed into his ankles and vice versa. This was the love of my life, wasting away in front of my almost blinded eyes. You never see what's happening right in front of you.
I didn't ever have a timescale of "moving on". Hate that expression anyway. Prefer "adapting".
The stark realisation that six years have passed, is scary enough. Realising how lonely you actually are too, is completely something else.
Maybe true love really does only come along once? Although I think I hope not, maybe....
