Three months feels like a long time to start with.

[It feels like nothing to him now, but at first, it stretched on. Worse still when he thought he had just a year ahead of him.]

I know what you mean. Not so much with the calling, of course, didn't have that option, but I would've loved it. I wrote her letters. I sang our song. I kept wishing I'd be woken up by her and I'd be home, in bed, and maybe Imelda would be there too. And that was before I died.

It's the sense that you can always reach out, go back. Things aren't so bad then. It's when you can't anymore and you have to wait that it all really...

[He doesn't finish that sentence, his mouth pressing. He takes a moment before continuing.]

It's tough. The first while is really tough.