Sitting outside staring at the last of the blooms from the tree that was planted in honor of the man who died of cancer. No, not my husband, but the former occupant of this residence.

We just make it back today after a whirlwind of memorials in two states, and in exhaustion, hit the bed as I stare at a pic of the two of us, and cry myself to a deep sleep.

I feel this thought creep up, would this not have happened had we not moved into this home? I mean, really, the eeriness of the similarities has me wonder. They moved here. He got sick. Died. We moved here. He got sick. Died. What if when it happened, we just moved? Would chemo have worked at that point?

I know. Josie don’t go there you are not superstitious – I know.

I’m just heartbroken.