In that year, I've found that yes, I could get along without my other self providing common sense, observations of the overlooked obvious, raps upside the head when needed, and satiric commentary. But I still miss it.
However, I also found that my stress levels dropped considerably from not dealing with all of her own issues. Trade-offs, I guess. But I'd definitely make the trade, to have her back.
So here's to the memory of a woman of immense talents, ranging from art to needlework to blacksmithing, that she never believed in. Of an impish sense of humor and wry smile. Who shared my love of history, and interest in so many of its aspects. Of an immense sense and keen observation. Of a love of birds and birds of prey especially, and dogs, and donkeys, and most animals besides. A great support for anyone who needed it, and a champion for small causes of justice.
I remember a dark night of a funeral at Renaissance Faire, long, long ago, when she hugged me and said "You mean so much to me, don't ever leave me!" But as someone said of Sam, whose ashes we buried that night, "We'll march together again, some day." I drain a draught to her honor, and cast the glass into the fire. Damn, I miss her.