Now W has been moved out and gone for five days. Our only contact has been to meet once, at the bank, to separate our shared accounts.
She was, at the bank, more like her "normal" self than I had seen her in weeks-- friendly, chatty, even playful. I was dismayed to be so reminded of why I loved her.
With her gone, and the stronger memories of how horribly she has treated me-- increasingly worse since last November-- it's pretty easy to avoid missing her. (I realize now why everyone says it's fortunate not to have kids.) What I find myself missing more is not her personally, so much, as missing the emotional needs she met. That is, in part, a lie, because I'm deliberately ignoring what about her I miss... but I am able to do that and it seems to lend stability to my emotional life.
