So true, TooSoon. We would race through the work week to get to Friday nights, when we'd be so happy to have the weekend together. Also, he left for work Friday morning, super excited for our weekend, and by noon, the accident had happened and he was about to go into brain surgery (obviously, to no avail). Friday nights were the worst for me, worse even than Sundays, which were a close second. "Lucky" for me, we are Jewish, and he was extremely devoted to and proud of our Jewish heritage - I was not observant at all. Once he died, I wanted to honor him with every thing I did, and so I started going straight from work to Friday night synagogue services. It's one of the things that saved my life - to have that replacement routine, to not have to go straight home to the emptiness my life was. It was a place of solace and beauty and stillness and reflection for me - also, it was good to be around people, even though I was alone. And know where I'd go immediately after? Home to talk (type, really) to the widows who made me feel sane and not alone on the predecessor to this board/forum. Hang in there, everyone - you will find your footing again.