Now you know. Life is Crummy. Well now you know.

I've been going through John's and my e-mail. At 231 pages (singles spaced, 11 pt font, but who's counting), I'm probably about halfway through.

There's a lot of gems, some hurt, some long spaces, when I know he was seeing other people. I forgot about the woman in Texas he started seeing after he and I had the most wonderful time together. And this exchange from October 27, 2008

Constance, I'm not good enough for you. I say that with no false modesty. It's just the simple truth as I understand it, after long and careful thought. You deserve the man I aspire to become.

If you ever truly want to, really and truly, we could journey there together.

And, FWIW, I'm not the woman I want to become. I'm working on it. Slowly, slowly, slowly. I really, really respect that you are in process of becoming.

And thank you for sending that e-mail. It means a great deal.

I need to be in a better place, Constance. Else I dishonor you.

I know I may sound hokey but hey, what do you want, I'm a little hokey.

I'm hokey too. I understand.

I really wish you so much joy and happiness and the way to find the journey that suits you.

I miss you!

I miss you too. And I understand that you need to sort things out.

I hope that once things get a little easier in your life, maybe will have the opportunity to re-connect.

and I have so much respect for, and like you *so much*.

Damn it. He thought I deserved the man he wished to become. Even if I believed in reincarnation, that won't happen in this lifetime. And so I sing Sondheim to try and comfort myself, but I don't even want to grow from John's death. That feels wrong and selfish and horrible. I want to wake up and find it's all a bad dream. Or a test.

All right, now you know:
Life is crummy.
Well, now you know.

I mean, big surprise:
People love you and tell you lies.
Bricks can fall out of clear blue skies.
Put your dimple down,
Now you know.

Okay, there you go —
Learn to live with it,
Now you know.

It's called flowers wilt,
It's called apples rot,
It's called thieves get rich and saints get shot,
It's called God don't answer prayers a lot,
Okay, now you know.

Okay, now you know,
Now forget it.
Don't fall apart at the seams.
It's called letting go your illusions,
And don't confuse them with dreams.

Yes sir, quite a blow —
Don't regret it,
And don't let's go to extremes.
It's called what's your choice?
It's called count to ten.
It's called burn your bridges, start again.
You should burn them every now and then
Or you'll never grow!

Because now you grow.
That's the killer, is
Now you grow.

You're right, nothing's fair,
And it's all a plot,
And tomorrow doesn't look so hot —
Right, you better look at what you've got:
Over here, hello?
Okay, now you know.