"The only thing worse than the shock and disbelief that your husband is dead is the lack of shock and disbelief that your husband is dead." -Dear Audrey
A fellow widow and blogger wrote this awhile ago and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. This is where I am right now. I had a rough couple of weeks and when I think about how fast the next month is going to go before I hit 'the one year anniversary,' it makes me sick. But mostly, this is getting more livable. I'm getting used to being in this empty house at night. Maybe 'used to' isn't even the right term - more like, I expect it.
Today, an ambulance drove past us on the road so Faith started asking questions about you. I've told her the story: the guys called the ambulance when they found you but you were already dead. She wanted to know why. But as I was in the middle of explaining, the ease of conversation about it started to make me feel ill. I'd almost forgotten for a second that it was a real event. Yes, you're dead. Yes, that nightmare really took place. And I sat there talking about it like it was a story in some book we read.
Today that moment, that evening, that awful awful night seems like eons ago. It's supposed to be a good thing that this is less shocking and that I'm supposedly getting closer to healing, but it bothers me. It bothers me that I'm getting used to this. I'm getting used to just living day-by-day, not really sure where life is going to take me, still feeling like I have no purpose or future other than just surviving so my kids can have a life.
You feel so far away today, baby. I'm glad the kids can still recall events so crystal clear about you, it pulls you back closer and reminds me that you were here just a short time ago. Gosh, I miss you.
Maybe what I think is surviving is really me just surrendering to what life has become for me. I'll do it for as long as I need to so that I can get to you some day.
I miss you more than words.
I love you always and forever.