her email address is still in my address book. I see it and and wonder if she would still get it if I sent one. I think of her every day. Some days it because of cheese. Always whenever I see cheesecake. I think of her when I hear the word Ottawa. I think of her when something has happened in my life and I want to tell her so that she can tell me that no matter how much I am hurting that it will get better, and that I deserve better than what I expect for myself. I think of her when I have ice cream with chocolate chips. I think of her when I walk through the romance section at the book store. I think of her when I see the color red. Every funeral of every solider is her funeral, or it feels that way anyways. I think of her every day and hope that she has forgiven me.