Yo-yo, me

It will be seventeen weeks on Sunday since my darling died. At first I thought my head would explode. The first two months were a blur. The screaming and crying, oh my God, I was a wretch. 
And then one of my dogs died, and both the cars needed intensive care. If it weren't for problems, I wouldn't have known I was alive. Thank God for my friends. How would I have gotten through this time without them; I don't know. 
Yesterday I went to a grammar school with a friend who taught a class on safely approaching dogs and being kind to animals. Animal cruelty is a huge problem here in Puerto Rico. My friend was wonderful, the kids were awesome. As the kids were leaving several came up to me and hugged me. I did nothing but watch my friend, so I think they just knew I needed a hug. It was a lovely afternoon. 
When I got in my car to go home, the crying began. That's the way it's become lately, any happy positive time is balanced out by crying. 
People look at me and say I'm doing fine because I'm working hard at being busy, even doing Zumba three mornings a week. What they don't see is I don't give a shit, all I want is my Honey back.