Eight months ago today I became a widow. Eight months ago my entire world was shattered as I held my husband in my arms and the doctors called the time of death. 11:11AM. Eight months ago a new life began as I started a life without Barry, and just the kids and I.
And I miss him every. single. day.
And I still have trouble believing he is gone. I don't think I will every get over that, ever. It is completely impossible for me to accept his death, to come to terms with the fact that such a strong life force was snuffed out like a mere candle. He shouldn't be dead, that sort of thing just doesn't happen. Really, why should a healthy 29 year old man die? WHY?
I will not recover. This is not a cold or the flu. I'm not sick. I'm grieving and that's different. I will not always be grieving as intensely, but I will never forget my loved one and rather than recover, I want to incorporate his life and love into the rest of my life. That person is part of me and always will be, and sometimes I will remember him with joy and other times with a tear. Both are okay.
I don't have to accept the death. Yes, I have to understand that it has happened and it is real, but there are just some things in life that are not acceptable.
Today I will shed a tear, or many, for the man that I have lost.