He's gone. I am a wreck, and he's gone. I cried all through the airport after he went through the gate. I had a bad feeling about going home alone, about being alone, about an empty home. I found bad news when I got home, that increased my paranoia by enormous bounds, but I kept saying that regardless of other things and people, I have my own importance, I have my own place, and that place is special. I need him around longer, I want him around. His presence, despite some problems, is a healer for me, it's a peace.