It rained, really hard, at the burial yesterday. Everyone was crying, or trying not to cry, huddled under umbrellas, and I just… stood there. Watching. Like I was at a play, maybe in the very back row, just observing the action. My husband, gone. And I felt nothing. Is that awful? Does that make me a terrible person? I saw our kids, grown adults, shoulders shaking, and I felt a little pang, a sort of sympathy for *them*, but not for… well, not for *him*, or for *me* losing him. It’s a very strange feeling. I kept thinking about the discipline, the kind of stoicism you learn when things are really bad, the way you just keep going. I guess it was a little like that, like I was just following orders, standing in the rain. He was a good man, I think. A really good man, everyone said so. And I guess he was. We had a life. A whole long one, after I got out of the service and settled down to teaching, and he was always… there. Present. But I felt so disconnected, even when he was right beside me. Like there was always this invisible wall, or maybe I built it. Probably me. I’m good at building walls, always have been. The whole time, listening to the eulogies, people talking about our love, our bond, I just kept thinking, ‘Did they really see that? Or did we just put on a good show?’ It felt like a performance sometimes. Maybe it was for both of us. I’m 62 now. Retired last year. And I’m looking around, at this new quiet house, and I keep asking myself, what was all that for? All the years, all the… effort. I kind of feel like I missed something big, something important, but I don’t even know what it was. Anyone else ever feel like they just… coasted through their own life? Like you were watching it happen to someone else? It’s not sadness, not really. It’s more like a deep, cold emptiness. And a little bit of guilt, I guess. For not feeling sadder. For not being more… broken. Am I the only one who feels this way? Like I'm just waiting for the next order.