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I kept everything. But, I really mean everything; I still continue to do so. Movie stubs, concert tickets, dried flowers, poems, love notes, every memory i could hold onto.  It was like I already knew he would die or leave -- both leaving me wading in grief. Treading water in horrible grief. Over the first year and a half he had become my everything.  My boxing/ shouting match opponent, my lover, my duet half, my sunshine, personal chef, shoulder to cry on... he was only reliable on that though, being there for me. Nothing more, nothing less. I knew it, his friends knew it, and he knew it.  He was really emotionally there for me-- always around for the laughs and hugs, and so so so many tears. There was a moment, and I don't know when it was, or where it was. A moment when things changed. I never stopped feeling "in love," or felt that he was thinking of leaving me, but I think it was the moment I felt he was right where he should be with me. Like I trusted him again, stopped trying to impress him too much, and started trying to make him happy. Not that I didn't before, but more like we started to become a we, and a family for the first time. And it was our time to feel so exquisitely so.