When I left the last post, I had just explained how much I deeply missed my husband, and how that had barely changed since he passed. I think that somewhere along the way, I had made the choice to hang on to us, quite by instinct.

I realize that a lot of widow/ers do this, mostly because we don’t want to disrespect not only the deceased, but what we had with them.

I felt, for a long time, that it was my duty to live out our lives as if he was just on vacation, and keep up his legacy as if it was my own. In certain ways, his legacy IS my own. The things about him that made him such an amazing friend and husband are things I have tried to adopt and apply to my own life.

But I know, even if I hate it, that I cannot keep living for him as if I was the one who died. It’s as if I’m trying to keep writing the story that I know should end. But letting it end seems just as devastating to me as losing him in the first place. Bottom line: I can’t let him go, even though I realize I need to do this. In fact, I need to do this soon. The idea scares me, and every time I get close to it, I lose my head. I procrastinate. I talk myself into saturating myself with his memory to make up for the idea that I might just have to move on.

Which brings me to a very odd place.

I can no longer placate or lie to myself. I can no longer pretend that this isn’t an issue. Why I defended it before, and cannot do it now is beyond me. Maybe this is a newer step in my grieving process. I have no idea. I’ve tried to document each one, to find some sort of pattern, but all I have discovered is that it’s so very subjective to each person that there can be no real pattern. Only that there are stages. And only that each person usually goes through each one, at a different and at different times.

That being said, I’d like to admit that I’m toying with the idea of…someone else.

It’s hard to admit, but for the sake of growth, I need to.

I’m honestly tired of trying to do it on my own, but I also don’t want to go into something blindly, being needy and looking for something to fulfill my life, instead of adding to it. I’m of the belief that loving to get emotional satisfaction isn’t real love. And frankly, I don’t have time for it.

I wish I had more answers.

In any case, as I gain momentum towards my second year in Widow Country, I’m starting to see significant changes. The fog I was in, the emotional confusion, the dislocation of reality – all these things which kept me incubating in a womb of denial,  are fading away. Things are becoming very obvious to me. I know I need to leave a certain part of my life behind me, in order to move forward. The concept feels powerful, and terrifying. I’m not sure I even know how to do it.

It’s almost like a rebirth. I used to think that was horribly cliche, but now, I prefer irony.

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