This is my life?

I remember when planning our wedding, there was a knottie (a girl who plans her wedding on the knot) who lost her fiance from a car accident.  

I was in shock for her.

I could not imagine her pain.

I felt so bad for her.

How absolutely horrible that would be to lose your fiance before your wedding.

And sometimes, I find myself thinking of her.

I still feel bad for her.

How horrifying.  I can't imagine what she is going through.

How does she get up in the mornings.

How she lost the potential of a happy marriage.

How she will never get to have his children.

How she will never see her first, fifth, tenth, or fiftieth wedding anniversary.

Poor girl.

But wait.

I do know how she feels.

I know almost exactly how she feels.

Poor me.

How the hell did I get in the same boat?

The movie of my life was not suppose to be like this.

We were happy.

This is not the Lifetime channel.

No way.

This is not real.

I am going to walk into the bedroom and Roger is going to be in bed waiting for me.

I know this is just a really bad dream.

This is not real.

Roger is just away.

It is not unusual for me to be alone.

Roger will be home soon.

But then.

I remember watching his complexion go grey.

I remember how strands of his hair were laying on the stretcher as I rubbed his head.

I remember how I have the autopsy report laying in the office.

I remember how I have ten copies of that stupid death certificate in the blue accordion file.

I remember how I have a fucking estate banking account in his name.

I remember how I know the name of a homicide investigator.  

Fuck.

This is my life.