On bad days, such as this, I stumble around my house knowing that I will never again find my wife in any of the rooms I enter. Fairly often, I stop and stand wherever I am in the house—today, in the kitchen, with the fluorescent light grinding away electronically above me, thinking with all my might, that I would give up anything to have her back with me again. And I would gladly bring her back to me on the worst day of our relationship (so few are they), standing there keenly enraged at something I have done, but standing there. Just standing there with me. My wife.
--Mitchell Hegman
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