Everywhere I turn, I’m reminded of my husband. Having spent 32 years together, it’s not surprising that his absence is now very keenly felt. But it goes deeper than that. He was my first, he was my last, he was my everything in between. We chose everything from furniture to clothes to groceries together. His influence is reflected in my wardrobe, and my hairstyle.
Some days I’m numb, and it makes me forget. Then, I’ll think of something I want to tell him before remembering that he’s not here. Some days I’m angry at him; he promised he would never leave me. Some days I’m just so heartbroken and empty and I wonder if I’ll ever be “me” again.
I’ve aged ten years in just over a month. My eyes are puffy, red and scratchy, and at times they just won’t stop “leaking”. I’ve got creases in my forehead that weren’t there before. My heart is missing and I find it difficult to care about much of anything. Every little setback or annoyance or difficulty is a mountain over which to climb, but it’s difficult when my soul is leaden and all I want to do is lie down and give up.
I know I will get through this. I always have. But on the days when I can’t see even a glimmer of hope through the darkness, it’s easy to forget what I’ve already overcome and to question whether this blackness has become my new home. Hopefully, I will soon find that little-used back door, all but forgotten, through which I can make my escape soon. Very soon…
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