And for the first year, the passage of time did not make anything easier. In fact, time was an enemy, carrying me ever further away from him.
But I did rebuild a life, with new and old friends. I reminded myself, often, that he would have wanted the rest of my life to be happy, that having moments of happiness was not a betrayal, or something I should feel guilty about. (Maybe I battled these feelings because of the way he died.)
When I thought that my grief was too much to bear, I told myself that I had just made it through the last second, and that the next second wasn't likely to be any worse.
I spent a year walking a coastal trail every single day, even in blizzards. I needed to look at animals and plants who were barely hanging on in the harshest of conditions. I needed to know that dying of old age was a rare privilege, that nothing about his dying at age 30 was unfair or uniquely tragic.
It sounds as if you have a good support system and friends and loved ones who will carry you through. I wanted to expand my network of friends, so I decided who I would want to hang out with and figured out a way to meet them. For me, this meant becoming an artists' model so I could meet the local artists.
Eventually I caught myself smiling again. One day I realized that I had gone a full day without crying. Bit by bit it does get better. I still think of him often, but I am also happily remarried, with friends and a fulfilling job. I'm happy. I'm sure you'll be happy again, too.
Edit history
Recommendations
0 members have recommended this reply (displayed in chronological order):
= new reply since forum marked as read