It is 11pm. After a day of continual hurt at the loss of Terri, it is always in the evening that the hurt becomes a terrible wound: then in the morning comes the awful dawning realisation that Terri is still not there so the damage becomes even worse. There is no end to grief. Did I fail to love her enough? Did I fail to tell her often enough that I love her? Did I fail to show her enough through my actions that I love her? I fear that all three are true but it is too late to put matters right: that is my burden for the rest of my life.