It is not a little thing, losing a loved one after a long life together. I was married to my one and only husband in 1978, and we vowed to stay together as many couples do, ’til death us do part.

We lived together for 50 years! Some people’s lives are cut short far sooner than that, so we had lots of events in those 50 years that we shared. He had memories of things he said I had forgotten, quirks that drove me nuts, and things he loved to do that I didn’t care for at all! I’m sure he would say the same thing about me if he were able.

At first when he died, I felt as though I had been standing on a wooden floor that I knew had some rotten boards, but felt pretty sturdy still. Suddenly though, it completely fell out from under my feet, leaving me dangling above a hole and wondering what on earth I was supposed to do!

Nobody can tell you how this will feel to you. All I knows is, I felt that I needed to work my way, hand over hand, until I could find footing on a solid place, and then figure out to repair the hole. I have never been one to allow myself to do nothing and hope someone else will do it. But following this metaphorical scene, I could not find the original type of wood, there was nobody to help me know what sort I should buy, and I knew it would take a long time to re-build the floor to make me feel it was safe to walk again!

Everyone’s journey is different. There is no right or wrong way to deal with grief. For some it may be totally devastating and bring on their own demise. For me, it has taken 8 months from the time my husband was diagnosed with a suddenly terminal illness until now, when I am seeing a future.

Reading a favorite novel about people you truly begin to feel you know, it is always a disappointment when the book comes to an end. I miss the story, and maybe I might think about re-reading it. But I know it has already finished. The story concluded. I am looking at my life with my husband in that way. It might sound strange to you. But my husband’s story came to an end. My story that included him, has come to an end. There isn’t one single thing I can do to change that reality.

I suppose if I believed that somehow his spirit was hanging over me, I might do things differently, but neither of us believed that anyone lives forever, and neither of us believed we would see each other again once our lives ended. He was asked what he was worried about as he was dying, and he said he was worried I would not be okay. I promised him that I would take good care of myself, and I am doing that to the best of my ability.

He has launched into some other reality, and I can’t be in that reality. Maybe it doesn’t even exist! But I am here, and I am not about to die, so I am looking ahead to what may remain of the rest of my life. I am making connections with new people, going on journeys both actual and imaginary. I am trying to find someone special with whom I could maybe spend the rest of my days loving and being loved.

Maybe…