Happy Anniversary

...or something.

Last year minus a week:
P snuck out of the house, blind from his cancer, with his little walker. He sat by the bus stop determined to get to the mall to buy me a wedding ring. A neighbour he met on a walk, who was a cancer survivor herself happened to pass by him. She offered him a lift to the mall and helped him pick out a ring for me. A week later (April 9) he proposed to me in our favourite restaurant.

I can't even write the story properly, I'm a mess.

I bought his favourite food, from the Royal Shawarma. We used to go in there all the time and it would be a great night. The smell killed me on the way home, it just smells like good times. When I got home there was two forks in the bag and I cried. I wish he was here to eat it with me.

There's only about 1 shot left of his favourite, Jim Beam. I think I'm going to have half now, and split the rest into whatever other days I'll be celebrating him. The mickey of rum will fill in the rest. I'm going to go rot on the couch and watch our favourite shows and just wallow in shittiness with his food. Fuck life.