Today marks a year. While it's been a full one in most senses of that word — personally, socially, politically — it seems little more than an instant since she died. Like the flipping of a switch or the turning of a dial, it's another world I live in now.
It's difficult to understand this new world in a few weeks or even in 52. The strangeness of it constantly surprises me. But there is one surety: I know she's at peace now, and that brings some comfort.
As for the long nights, when I get drowsy again I turn off the light and snuggle into the covers, her covers. I feel her presence there in the dark, and finally, finally, I can sleep.