I'm a little improved of late, not as low as I was, not high enough to be happy but 'better'.
The lifting has probably been helped by John's eldest son and his fianceé visiting for the Bank Holiday weekend.
It was, as it always is, a pleasure and a joy to see them.
I had a few private tears while they were here.
He's so like his Dad in personality - loud, playful, fun, our godson absolutely adores and idolises him!!!
Hearing him around the house or out and about I could hear John, it was wonderful, it was lovely, it was warming.
It also crushed me inside.
Their personalities are peas in a pod.
Now that they've gone home, back to civilisation, the house is very quiet.
The fun, the laughter, the volume, it's all gone.....we are practically silent.
I miss it, I miss them, I miss the Life in the house and I miss John.
I've cleaned the house, done the washing, walked the dogs, done all the chores I needed to, most of which have been accompanied by tears.
I went to bed almost dreading waking this morning as I knew they were leaving.
But then I go to bed every night dreading waking up.
Mornings are the worst.
I really don't like waking up at all.
I go to bed and I potter on the iPad most of the night, into the early hours, until I can no longer keep my eyes open, simply because sleeping means waking up in the bed alone, by myself, without John.
Without fail, the first thing I notice every single morning is that one side of the bed is empty, then I remember John's dead....every single morning for over 15 months.
I really do detest mornings with a fucking passion.
Mornings are the thing I dislike most in this new life.
It takes me an age to 'warm up', to get out of the low that I wake up in.
I know it's one of the reasons I'm always so frigging tired but, try as I might, I can't stop it.
I've considered pills but I don't really want to go down that route.
I thought about buying a new bed but that would be stupid and a waste of money - I'd still be alone in the damn bed!!!!
And, being so tired all the time is going to make my moods less positive.
It's a catch 22, a vicious cycle, from which I find it hard to escape.
I crave sleep and yet I shy from it as much as I can.