I suppose its time for me to move on. Maybe I too should accept the closure I have given her. Maybe I too should close the chapter in the book that is my life with their name on it. 

I suddenly struck me. I may never be in his home again.  Then again I’m not sure it matters, the room I have such vivid memories of him in has been redone. It’s still a shock when I walk into it. If I move on now that is much less that will be written over of him. I can still see him in the room, the dark green walls behind him. The last time I saw him was in that room…well, actually it was on his front stoop as he saw me out. But the three of us had been hanging out in that hunter green room that they both hated so much. I can remember his going to put his arm around her. She subtly shifted away from his touch. Just as she always did.
Maybe it’s time for me to take my memories and run.
I feel no guilt, no regret. When he turned his twinkling blue eyes upon me that first time I was a dried up husk of a woman, done with birthing, child rearing and all those things women are good for, forgotten by her husband. He shone upon me (how did he make those eye twinkle on command!?) and I came alive. He touched me and my blood flowed once again. He gave me permission to be me and showed me that I was lovable for who I am… not for what I try to make myself into for others. No it was far from a perfect relationship. We were probably toxic in the long run. I was never secure, for I don’t know what reason. We bickered constantly. But we did fill each other with life again. 
He once wrote me: 
what did I do before we met?  with whom did I share all this energy
all this passion…all this heat?

truth is…noone,  it stood dormant hibernating until it felt the
warming rays of your smile, the light within you made this happen.

I simply can’t imagine going back to that time….

I could have written this for I felt the same. So perhaps it is time for me to take my memories, our memories, stash them away and close that chapter.
If only I could put to rest the fear of loosing those memories. She talks about him and he is alive, she shared bits and pieces of her memories with me and it only served to reinforce mine.  Her love for him, kept my love for him company, even if she never knew it.