[She nods.]

I know.

[Her eyes close and she can't help looking away, eyes opening again only to focus on the bed. It's fitting.]

Every day that I wake up and he's not there is a reminder that he's gone. I know he's gone Ned; there's no pretending he isn't. But I can't keep grieving for him ...

[She presses her lips together, unable to verbally admit that doing that would kill her. That not pushing herself would find her curled up in bed and never coming out again.]