Today is a special guest post from a friend of mine, another young widow. She asked that I post without her name, but the following are her words.
Stories of a widow seven years out...
When on the verge of “that” day you know it’s coming… every day up to it seems like that day itself. You put on a brave face only to break down in your alone time.
The pain gradually builds to the same extreme of that day as if your body knows.
But this time you’re mentally prepared; your coping mechanisms are all in place. Until it all comes crashing in.
Why? Did my children not deserve their dad. Forget about me; I’m okay. What about them? Who is going to love them that same way? Lord, who? What did we do? What did I do? What did they do?
Is this a dream... still??!!! Why must I watch videos? Why must I seek pictures pictures for a sense of closeness to him? Why can’t he be here with us? Why did you call him home?!?
I am thankful, Lord, for the time we had. I am thankful for the pictures. I am thankful for the experiences. I am typically okay, Father, but these days I struggle. These days I struggle more than holidays ... this has become a holiday of its own.
I despise it. But I also love it because it makes it more acceptable for me to miss him... to be upset... to grieve...
Why are these days the hardest? Because I tend to isolate myself? Because most people don’t understand? Because I’m only giving myself these few days now? Seven years? Should I still be grieving? Should I have “moved on” as other people put it?
I have moved... not on... That love will stand still. At this point I am able to love another. I am stronger. I do know how to cope. I am appreciative for the life I have. We are happy. But are we as happy as we could have been with him?