Widowhood: 6 Months Later

People are often telling me, “I can’t believe it’s been ___ months already!”

I can.

I can’t believe you can’t!

Truth be told, I’m doing okay. I’m getting through each day with as much strength, love, and humor as I can.

But some days, getting out of my bed with the other side still perfectly made cuts me so deep inside that I immediately break down.

Some days opening the mailbox to a letter addressed to The Johnson Family warrants wobbly knees and trembling lips on the walk back to the house.

And some days, just hearing a Tom Petty song on the radio is enough to bring so many tears to my eyes that I have to pull over to compose myself.

Other days, however, I laugh so hard that my abs are sore.

I smile so big that my cheeks ache.

I sing so loud that I lose my voice.

I dance so much that I’m out of breath.

The extremes are just that. Extreme.

Nobody warns you just how painful the journey is when those waves hit, but they also don’t tell you how exquisite the joy feels when something makes you happy.

Bottomline, I don’t stop living because he did. I live harder and feel everything deeper because he can’t.

Some days I wish I could flip a switch and turn it all off. I wish I could unzip the grief body suit I am permanently wearing. I beg for a shot of lidocaine in my heart.

But I’ll tell you this, every last inch of this long, winding, grief road is worth traveling because it meant I got to love and be loved the way I did.

That will always be worth it. He will always, always be worth it.

Be kind today. 💛