I think I’m getting over it. I hear myself telling people that. Then something will come over me, later, when I’m alone. I’ll see his photo or hear him playing guitar or think about one of our inside jokes and the reality comes crushing down. He’s gone. Today it was when I heard him playing the intro to Jimmy Johnson. It was particularly poignant because it was the two of us playing together—he was playing guitar and I was playing banjo. Something about the two of us together . . . I lost part of myself when he died, that part of me that fit into his life. I want to punch something, scream out to God for being so damned unfair, but I can’t do anything but cry and wait for the time to pass. Time will pass like it always does. I’ll just hang on to that, missing him, knowing it’s just a moment in time.