When does it get better? Ha! I’m quite certain this is a trick question. I’m three years in, and I’ve decided…
It never gets better.
The person you love never comes back.
The person you were never comes back.
The life you thought you had is gone forever.
So horribly uplifting and positive, right? (I might possibly be having a bad week.)
It doesn’t get better, but it does get bearable.
So now that I’ve given that depressing overview of widowhood, let me offer a little hope to those of you who are in the thick of grief. Those of you who maybe just lost your loved one. Those of you who wake up short of breath and in disbelief. Those of you who can’t imagine another 10, 20, 30 or more years of this.
To you I say:
The fog will lift and the pain will be horrendous, but it will recede.
You will sleep through the night again.
Color will come back into the world.
You will stop crying every day and part of you will hate that, but you will also be grateful.
The day will come when you wake up excited to be alive.
You will start making plans for the life you want rather than reacting to the one handed to you.
You will live and enjoy and thrive. Not just endure.
And you will carry your love in your heart forever.
Nothing – not even time – will make him disappear. He might fade; he might turn into a memory that visits you in dreams, but he’ll be there. I have yet to meet a widow who says they forgot, no matter how many years pass.
Everyone’s timeline is different, but I promise you won’t be in that black place forever. I promise.
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