I tried to put away everything, but I left reminders here and there, most hidden from any guests. In my own way, that’s how I held on to him. I remember the day I took the last box up to the attic. It was filled with baseball cards he had collected as a boy. He said one day when we had a son, he’d give them to him. I put the box on the floor and stood there. Until that point I hadn’t truly faced the fact that he was gone. Maybe it was the shock wearing off, I don’t know, but as I stared out the attic window to the driveway below it hit me. My husband was dead. My legs may have well crumbled beneath me. I dropped to the floor and laid my chest across the box, my arms beneath my face. I cried. Harder than I did the day the Sheriff’s department called to tell me about the accident, harder than at the funeral and all the days since then. I cried for him, for us, for everything that we’d never have. Every inch of my body trembled. I had never felt so alone and empty. I lay there for. Anyway I wondered if I would ever hear from her again, I certainly hope so. A couple days later I got an IM from her saying I had forgotten to give her an email address she could send the picture to, so I gave her my email address and she sent me a picture. I found out her name is Jill. She looked really hot and I told her this, she was wearing a sexy black dress her skin was pale which we both said would add to contrast of our bodies, I am dark skinned. Well after that day we continued to chat daily, going from cyber sex to phone sex. She told me she was going to purchase a dildo that was approximately the size of my dick so she could see how it would feel to fuck me; she said she would make sure it was a black one. She named it King Albert after me that made me smile. We continued to talk for about six months or more, a couple of phone calls a week plus email and instant messaging. I enjoyed our chat with her my chats with her and found she had a terrific sense of humor and.
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