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.