Surviving Life Without Connie

We were together for twenty years; twenty years where we were seldom more than ten feet apart from each other. For twenty years we worked in the same office, sat on the same couch, slept in the same bed, and in the end, when Connie was dying of Stage 4 cancer, I slept on the couch next to her recliner where she was confined  -- and when Connie finally died, my face was six inches from hers as I whispered my love for her.

Now my beloved Connie is gone, and I have to restart my life. This means clearing the debt, leaving the house where we lived together, and learning how to live without the woman who made my life possible. I'm a writer, and I have to write again, because it's all I know. So I'll be finishing those long-neglected novels, and yes -- I will start blogging again. I just need the funds to make that possible.

Please help me.