Two years

It’s been two years since Paul died, leaving me here to live in this world without him. When we promised “Until death do us part” I imagined more time; I imagined children and grandchildren and wrinkles and old-age dementia. Instead, I got grief and pain and sadness long before I should have. (But oh, how wonderful the world was for our brief time together.)

I promised Paul once that I’d try to find happiness if anything were to happen to him, but I didn’t know at the time how difficult that promise would be – nor did I realise our “what if” conversation would become my reality.

I struggle every day as I try to find a balance between finding a new path to happiness and the guilt I feel at being happy without him. And I struggle every day as I try to find a balance between survival and grief.

Two years later and I still don’t know how to live in this world without Paul. But I’m trying to learn. It’s just hard to concentrate on the lessons when I’m so busy missing him so very much.

6 Replies to “Two years”

  1. Frannie
    You get stronger each day. Always remember you are loved.
    My two favorite reminders:
    Psalms 118:24
    Phil 4:13
    As always – love from the heartland with even bigger hugs today.

  2. I don’t know what the right thing to say is right now. Just know I love you and I think about you all the time. And not just in a “I hope Frances is doing ok” kind of way. I mean, I do hope you’re doing ok, but I also just think about what you’re up to, and how the preparations are going for Scotland, and looking forward to seeing you before you go.
    And the lessons learned will be something you’ll be able to see eventually. For now, being busy missing him seems like enough.

  3. For what it’s worth, Frances, you have been very strong and very brave these past two years (even if you don’t always know it). I’m thinking of you.

  4. I’m not even going to pretend I understand how you feel – all I can relate to is loneliness. For me, it made me feel as if I was boxed in, and no matter which way I turned, I always hit a wall. Loneliness was so utterly engulfing. 🙁 But you’re strong and I believe in you – and I haven’t even met you! You’re amazing and you’re a fighter – and just remember, it’s still early days – the wound is still very fresh. Lots of love and hugs! 🙂 xxx

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