I definitely felt like the sickness had taken me hostage, both his and mine. And I still don't feel fully free because when I think about him I feel really angry. It's been six months and it's definitely better-- I think about him less and less--but I carry the anger with me like those iron balls on chains around my ankles. I want to let it go, but I don't know how to.
The hostage can walk out the door anytime she wants to, but the door isn't always that easy to find.