Everything changes...

...even the period of equanimity that I have been enjoying lately.

Today was a different story.

Mary came upstairs with this month's bills-and-budget.  I thank G-d and my lucky stars that she has ageed to help me keep all that in order, even after she has completed the ordering and sorting of Zalman's material.  (Although, to my eye, THAT looks like a never-ending task.  He was SO prolific and creative; and caring.)  
Later, I went downstairs with the newly-washed linen, to make the bed freshly in Netanel's room, to clean the bathroom, to make sure the place could accommodate guests.  Then I remembered vividly how Zalman would get up from his desk, leave his office and come into that room to put his feet up and grab a quick nap.  From there, I went into the office and saw that even though so very very much had already been sorted and filed, still so much remains...He was an exceedingly creative and productive man!

I should not surprise me, then, that after the minchah minyan, I got into the car, listened to the rain peppering the roof, and suddenly found myself wailing at the top of my lungs and weeping.
I miss him, I miss him, I miss him.  Now I resent those moments I took alone for myself, even though I knew at the time they were required for maintaining my sanity.  But they are moments that I missed with him, and cannot ever recover.  
I know that this regret is useless; and I cannot help it.
I know that some of today's hypersensitivity has to do with this latest departure from my household---which was good, and right, and timely; and knowing it makes no difference whatsoever.

The sound of the rain has stopped, and in its place the cricket chorus has resumed.
I will let that sound take me upstairs to sleep.