So how did this happen?

I was all dressed up for a fashion show today, which was a lot of fun. And I looked really good (I think). I wanted to be with someone who cared. I did some bar stopping (and had a good crab cake along the way). But what the hell!?!?! How did this happen??? Where is my handsome, smart, best friend? I have been very consciously trying to forget the last few years and now I am remembering the man I wanted be together with forever - his smell, his jawline, the way he looked at me. I so miss my husband. How did I end up alone???

It's not at all fair. I'm sorry.

Thank you. I've been kind of numb, but when I really think about the reality of it, it blindsides me.

It's surprising and frightening how we are able to hide difficult things away under the surface so that we don't have to face them day to day. But one good scratch of that surface and the things we've been avoiding thinking about come through and can nearly suffocate you with the depth of the pain. I've been coming up against a lot of that under the surface pain lately, though nothing like the loss of your husband. It's just so overwhelming when you actually let you mind go there.

I cannot imagine. I cannot imagine the layers of loss you've encountered through all the stages of this journey, from the shock of the diagnosis, to the finality of life today without him. I miss my husband when he's at work and I'm at home. Someone who has survived it can give better counsel. I can only say I am so sorry that he got sick, and that you are without him now. I can only guess that somehow it must become bearable, because I see people live through it.

Oh, Liz. Finally, I can say with great certainty to someone in pain that I understand what you're going through.

The truth is that those who haven't lost a beloved life partner who was a soulmate, a twin star, the other half of gravity simply don't understand what's happened to us. There's no way that they could. This is not something we can rehearse for, even when we know what is going to happen.

The bad news is that your pain, confusion, turmoil, fog, grief, anger, and other feelings will likely last a while. And it'll change and go through phases. Although things will eventually improve, missing him and what you created and enjoyed together may never end. The good news is that the pain of his loss also comes with love and joy. For me, it's also led me to a relationship with my beloved that still exists but has changed, and I've finally, gradually begun to be at peace with that changed relationship.

I talk to my sweetheart daily, sometimes hourly. I write to him in my journal. I write about him. I tell others about him. His advice and counsel still guide me in many ways. He continues to get smarter as I continue to age and get smarter. His love and forever-commitment to me will never end, nor will mine for him. This relationship has nothing to do with any future relationship I might have. He will be with me forever and want for me all the happiness I can create during the rest of my life.

Admittedly, everyone's bereavement doesn't parallel my bereavement process. Some move through grief's phases faster, some slower. For me the first year was foggy. There are things I don't remember at all or only poorly. The next six months I was distracted by my months in NOLA and then getting resettled at home. Then at 18 months after his death the fog began to clear a bit. It's only in the last few months that I've felt a more permanent peace settling in. It's very welcome, given the sadness I carried for so long.

I believe it's a good thing you've expressed so rawly here tonight how you feel. You're right that we'll never get them back the way they were--healthy, carefree, focused on their daily lives, walking in the front door, calling from the next room, turning their smile on us, touching us, alive, just as happy to be with us as we were with them. But you and I will always be the lucky ones who had that kind of partner, that kind of love.

We are now learning lessons from this pain that almost half of the people on earth will have a chance to learn. If we pay attention, embedded in this pain is a tremendous amount of wisdom. I'm not even close to learning everything I want to learn, but I do know this: I was so fortunate to have been loved by my husband and to have loved him in equal measure, and my pain--the cost of our love--is so worth what I have received.

Still, the pain hurts. Yes, it subsides, but I don't know any way to make it end. For me, I needed to feel it and not to sedate or drug it. I know others who feel differently about this and deal with it differently. You will find your way.

I'm sending you so much love and support. Call me anytime if you want someone to listen who is on this path, too.

Thank you Ann. Your insight is so helpful.

No words, just lots of love.

Glad you shared with us!

Your honest share is raw and real. It is so unfair to have experienced the loss of your husband not once, but twice. Honored that you shared with us and we're with you as you feel the feels. You are never alone !