Seven days without Rain

It takes such getting used to and the larger parts of me don't want to do it...like 'getting used to' being without her is an abomination. It's like this with all deaths. The mind seems to equate finding a way to move on with a negation of the love felt for the one who is gone. Something like ... 'If I can learn to live without her then isn't it possible I never really loved her?'
Minds are silly.
I loved her like crazy and I always will. She was an amazing friend who spent her whole life with me. I could never begin to say all the ways I'll miss her or how she saved me, but continuing is what we do...acceptance of this allows appreciation for the time together not to be overshadowed by a grasping desperation to have it all back. I learned this when my mother died. It took years. I can't understand why the mind needs to stay miserable in order not to feel guilty.
The places Rain has always been will be empty but I'll still look for her there for a long time. When the day comes that I open the front door to let the dogs out without checking for her first I hope I'm not too hard on myself. I hope I remember there's a difference between forgetting her and letting her go.