Time will never heal the wound that happens deep within your heart when someone you love dies. No amount of time can replace what’s been lost or the hope of what was to come. Actually with time it can worsen, the subsequent months that followed were more difficult as I begin to emerge from the “fog” – my long slumber of denial. Everyone had returned to their own sense of normal but the world I knew, the life I had – no longer existed.
Few were capable of just sitting with me and my grief. I understand now that the standard, classic phrases were offered in hope but its painful to hear the voices trailing off into nothingness after each is repeated.
There is no discernible sense of fair in death and I absolutely felt cheated and that life had certainly been grossly unfair to me. I was defeated by the constant expectation that I should move on; move forward with my life. I had no definition of what that was – I was a “couple” longer then I wasn’t. I was married for more than half of my life – very married to a man that I adored, valued and now missed terribly. I wanted to share my memories, my feelings, expose the brokenness and emptiness I felt. Sadly the more I participated in the comfort of others the more invisible I felt and the easier it became to fade – to retreat.
Time has only afforded me the melancholy of adapting to the absence of him in every aspect of my life.