I am trying so hard for this not to be a bad day.

Most people in London will remember 7 July for the bombings. But last 7 July I was in Ohio, with George, for what neither of us knew would be our last day together.

I am still so sad, so lonely and I'm really, really trying to move on, as I know I must, but it's hard for me.

On Saturday I met a man whose wife died around the same time as George (November), and he and his new girlfriend are buying a house together after knowing each other for just a few months. But his wife had had a long illness, so there was time for him to adjust, he knew she was going to die and had made some emotional preparation for it. George was just gone.

I will always, always, always be so glad and grateful that the last words I ever spoke to him, face to face, were "I love you".

I have things to do today that'll take me out of the house, practical stuff like get my car to the mechanic and then a long journey home on the bus, so I'll be around people and busy. That's the key, keep busy, busy, busy, busy, try not to go anywhere near the edges of this huge void in my soul in case I fall in.

I still can't get back with God over this, can't pray, can't see this as 'God's will'. Maybe someday I'll get to that point, but not now, not yet.