Isn't it? I'm pretty sure that's going to devolve into a lot of angsting. Which, actually, I don't mind, but somehow I sense the story needs a comic relief to make it not-so-bad. How many times can you cry before it gets to be old news?
Anyway, yes, it's terrible and I hate myself over it, the usual. *nod nod nod*
*tries really hard to be serious*
I heard your husband was killed, too. Perhaps you understand? It leaves me with a bitter helplessness, and I'm not entirely sure what to do about it. I try talking to people, but they have their own problems and they don't want to hear it... I just feel like my entire future was ripped away from me with one bullet, and there's no use even trying anymore.