Wrong.

Today is six months, and I don't like it.  It's six months, half a year, and even though my baseline levels of happiness are better than you might think, and I feel generally okay, it still feels wrong.  I feel okay but I know things are wrong.  Everything, good and bad, feels a little like the result of a wrong turn, an alternate path I took, and there is no getting back to the main road.  D and I went to Hawaii and had a great time; it was good, and also wrong.  I got a new job and successfully completed my first week; it is good, and also wrong.  I spend unencumbered evenings out with friends; it is good, and also wrong.  It is June; that is good, and also wrong.

It is six months, Mila is still only the sum of our memories and mementoes, and my hair is still falling out.