February 27, 2021:
Random thoughts after a month without my honey... Grief causes unexpected physical things to happen inside the body, like being forced to take a deep breathe. I sometimes go a couple days without crying then I suddenly feel all the feelings bubbling up to the surface. Finding the mental space to write my husband’s obituary has been much more difficult than I imagined. The last month has gone by fast but it already feels likes it’s been so long since Ed was right by my side. Giving myself grace is a daily reminder. Going on long walks with friends has been really nice. The feelings that come from the overwhelming amount of love and cards and flowers and social posts and texts at the beginning and then the fade to more silence is something to work through. I miss snuggles. Evenings are very lonely. My blanket and Netflix are my closest friends at night. Dreams are weird. My head knows he’s gone but my heart can’t grasp reality. Everything going forward is a “first”. I’ve enjoyed having more freedom to get out and do things with my boys. I now wish Ed and I had talked more about what this painfully sad time was going to look and feel like. Being told your husband’s ashes and death certificate are ready to be picked up is too much to process. I wish he was here to comfort me. I’m forever grateful for the many short videos I have of Ed, I watch them often. The Marco Polo app has been a nice new way for me to connect with others. Switching my bedroom location and working to create a fresh new space for myself has been a joyful distraction. One small task a day is often all I can handle. Grieving is a whole different level of exhaustion. My number one job is to nurture myself and take care of my boys. Talking to Ed when I’m alone or in the car helps me feel a tiny bit closer to him. Someday I might write a book which feels insane but kind of exciting to think about. The fact that I became so intimately close to Ed as his wife and caregiver, especially the last three months, and then to have him taken from me will always be hard to comprehend. I miss feeding him, cleaning him, caring for him, rubbing his head, holding his hand, kissing on him, talking to him, laughing with him, crying with him. Our boys are so strong and loving and funny and I couldn’t be more grateful for the close relationship the three of us have. The reality of being a widow at the age of forty seven feels shocking. Thankful that the birds are chirping and spring is around the corner. We’ll be adding a snuggly goldendoodle puppy to our family sometime this summer and we’re so excited for the love and joy it’ll bring us. My husband lived and loved so much in his forty eight years but was way too young to die. Our two boys got robbed the most and it breaks my heart they don’t have their dad here. I’m so appreciative of the care Ed received over the years and for our wonderful, nurturing hospice team near the end. I’m proud of myself for being Ed’s advocate and wingwoman at all his appointments and through each step of his battle with glioblastoma, it’s wild to think of everything we went through since his diagnosis. I’m so grateful for a workplace that truly cares about me and my family and is allowing me to take this necessary time off. Grief counseling and support groups will be a part of my life for quite a while. I was walking at a park the other day and asked Ed to give me a sign that he could see me and to have a bird poop on me because we’d both think it was funny, it didn’t happen and I was kinda bummed to not get shit on by a bird, true story. I don’t always remember to lift up my thoughts and worries and cares in prayer each day but giving myself grace in that too and I know Jesus knows where my heart is. I learned that early stages of grief can last years. I’m proud of the many many get togethers I set up since Ed’s diagnosis and even outdoor visits during Covid because the quality time he and I shared with others is priceless. I will continue to find a little or a lot of joy each day. The moments of joy and distractions feel like tiny bandaids over the giant holes in my heart. I think of him every single minute of the day. I hope he’s having so much fun and being showered with love up in heaven. I miss him like crazy.
March 8, 2021:
Missing you so much honey, so much. I want you here laughing with the boys and I. I want to hear your laugh, your voice, and see your smile. I'm so sad.