"The world didn't stop the day you died. But mine did. The sun kept shining, and the clouds kept moving as I stood there in the wreckage of a life I knew would never be the same."
Today marks another birthday that James celebrated in heaven.
I've shared this story before, but it bears repeating because it captures a profound truth about grief that sticks with me every day.
After James passed, as my parents and I walked out of the hospital into what felt like a new world, the contrast between life and death struck me. The hospital was bustling, a stark contrast to our quiet devastation. While waiting for the elevators, a family with a newborn passed by, oblivious to our sorrow. Looking at that baby—so full of potential at the start of their journey—I was painfully reminded of the cruel, beautiful cycle of life.
I used to joke that the first 14 years of marriage were the hardest—that's how long I was married before I lost James. Marriage requires constant nurturing, as does navigating life after your partner has gone.
Widowhood is like being thrust into an alternate reality where the one person you counted on to help you face life's challenges is forever gone. I've faced tears, anger, and sadness, but amidst that, I've also experienced moments of profound beauty and growth.
This "new" life of mine isn't bad; it's just radically different from the one I envisioned. Living through widowhood is a masterclass in rediscovery, a daily exercise in piecing together a new normal.
To everyone bearing the weight of grief, remember, you are not alone. We tread this path together, step by step, navigating through the chaos and beauty life offers, transformed but undeterred.