It may just be the separation, or the loss overall, or the trauma of DDay, but I find myself staring for hours at pictures of my BS.
It's amazing to me how much I took her for granted when I was in the fog of the A. I have not really looked at a picture of her in years and now, there don't seem to be enough pictures for me to look at.
And of course the other side of the betrayal is always there as she can't stand to see my face. She's taken down all the pictures of me in the house for her own healing and protection, which only makes it worse.
It's sad when all you have left is fresh pain and old pictures.