I’m not sure how to even begin to touch on today. It’s been six months today since Laurie passed away.
I was not prepared for what happened and I certainly wasn’t prepared for what would come after. Dealing with the loss was hard enough. The sadness, other emotions, loneliness, fighting to get out of bed when I just wanted to hide from the entire world. But I can’t hide no matter how much I’d like to. I’m now a single income household. I have a home to take care. I have to work. I have things that have to be taken care of. Simple things like making sure the animals go outside and get fed, the dishes get done, floors get swept, the lawn gets mowed. Laurie and I would share doing these things. But now, they all are simple things that become overwhelming in whatever this “new normal” is without her.
Everyone tells you “don’t rush to make decisions.” Unfortunately, the reality is, there are decisions you are going to have to make. Every.Single.Day. And you’re going to have to make them alone. Sure, people will give you input; sometimes even if you don’t ask for it, but at the end of the day, there is no one to make those decisions but you. Everyone may not agree with those decisions and that’s ok, but it adds to the complexity and emotions of what’s happening. Laurie and I spent 25 years together making decisions. And we didn’t agree on all of them. But we talked through things, worked out compromises when necessary, and arrived at a decision. That’s part of having a partner. I miss that. I miss her input, her guidance and suggestions. I try to ask myself “what would Laurie say?” or “what would Laurie do?” It does help me work through some things but it’s not the same as having her participation or validation. I can only hope at the end of the day, I’ve made decisions that Laurie would be happy with.
I have a lot more to figure out. I’m not sure how to do it. Some of the upcoming decisions will be life changing. Good, bad or indifferent, they’re coming. I’m working every day to prepare myself to make them alone.
For today, like our friends and family, I just miss her. Her smile. Her laugh. Her wisdom. Her incredible strength. Her presence. It’s left a void for so many of us. Our chore is to figure out how to move forward without her. Not move on. That’s not possible. But move forward. One step, one minute, one second at a time, while carrying her beautiful memory with us. Guiding us. Watching over us. Walking with us. Unseen but forever present. I’m thankful for having had this time with her. But I will forever miss what could have been.
Grief After Loss 