Well, thanks for not telling me, but I guess I can figure it out. Of course, I started crying. This was the worst. Well, the worst since she first told me. It finally became clear to me what it means that she loves him more.
He is more wonderful than me. I'm the less wonderful.
I got sick, and had to get off the phone. She was crying, and kept worrying about me killing myself. Frankly, I'm a little sick of it. It just seems selfish. Yes, I'll stay alive so you can enjoy your new boyfriend. Now screw off.
I hadn't cried in hours, and was starting to feel less sick. I was starting to even think about work. Then, this. I guess it was the denial there, working for me, protecting me from the full brunt of the pain. It's bad, all right. I had wondered why it wasn't as bad today, and it was good old Mr. Denial working for me. But now he's gone.
Anger? We've seen some of this. Not that he doesn't deserve my anger, because he is a dog. Grief? Yup.
So I guess I'm doing everything out of order. Except acceptance, that always will come last. The doctor says three weeks. Three weeks until which stage? The grief? The acceptance?
The crappy thing is even after the acceptance (she's gone, there's nothing I can do, move along), I'm still alone. Without my best friend, without my lover.