Lisa asked me how I was and I recognized the implied question there.

"I'm getting by on my own just fine. Before you ask - it wasn't anything to do with you.

"I knew it was getting to the 'over' point when one night I passed by the bedroom and heard her crying. I then, in normal male mode, instantly started to tick over items in my head as to what I could have possibly done - and came up empty.

"I sat down beside her and put my arms around her, silently trying to prepare myself for a sharp elbow or knee to the groin (in case it was indeed something I had done).

"After some amount of time she told me that her mother had died a few hours earlier and she had gotten a call almost as soon as it happened. She didn't even think about telling me, asking for some comfort was and still is out of the question.

"What kind of low life person am I when the person I'm living with won't share something like that? It stung then as it still does."

Lisa was silent at this, I could feel her confusion as to a choice of response.

I decided to save her the trouble and continued, "But what can you do? Sitting there I knew what it meant. I didn't know how long we had left but I was certain it was over.

"Probably more then you wanted to hear."

"Not really, but I enjoyed the part about you suffering though."

"Glad to be of service. How about you? How are you?"