Gemini2

New here...Holidays are approaching and this is my first year without my husband. He absolutely loved all the holidays...Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas. He always found a way to make it fun for everyone . He would walk around the house randomly calling out Fa la la la! And me and the kids would answer from where ever we were. It always made my heart smile. We lived together for 8 years, finally getting married onThe winter solstice last year. He was very sick but it was a really good day and I was so happy despite the tragedy I had every reason to believe was coming. I was able to push it away and put all my love and attention into caring for him. It’s how I lived and loved him every day we were together. He got sick soon after we moved in together. I had young kids and I’m still not sure how I managed it when I look back. And I wish to all that is good and right that I could do that for myself now but it’s endlessly hard. He passed on Valentine’s Day and life will never be the same without him. It’s been 8 months and I’m ok most of the time if I don’t let myself think about him, but then there are all these triggers for the holidays that really mess me up. He fought a terrible disease and was sick for a long time, and even with failing health he just wanted to see everyone enjoy the holidays with a childlike innocence that I lost when I was very young. Sometimes it feels like my chest will cave in. I wake up with a panic sometimes in the wee hours of the morning thinking I slept too long and need to check on him or give him his meds. Then I realize he’s gone and it hits me like a tidal wave...again. 8 months later I still sometimes forget. I am surrounded with love and support and not a single one knows the pain I live with everyday. They think because he was sick that I could have somehow prepared for it. But there’s no prepping for the center of your universe to just suddenly be gone. My every moment of everyday was spent trying to help him have some kind of life through a debilitating illness. And it took nearly everything I had in me to do it everyday. And when he passed I got myself back and time to pursue anything I want, but exactly zero desire to do it except to try and show my daughter how to keep putting one foot in front of the other. So I fake it everyday, hoping one day it will be real. I’m slowly reclaiming hobbies I once loved. And talking to people again. I’m thankful that its normal to be at home a lot now because of Covid because no one is trying to drag me on outings to force me to move on. The more tender people treat me the more upset I get. Like they don’t know that I’m stronger than they will ever know. Good God, I pray they never have to know as in depth as I do, how much strength a person is actually capable of and the trauma one can even get used to enduring. How odd it is that I can even miss the bad stuff because it made me feel useful to bring him comfort and take his pain away every which way I could. i do love my life, friends and family, even myself. AngI’m smiling more, losing weight, doing self care and ask the things that make it look like I’m just fine. But for a couple hours nearly everyday I’m really not. And these 8 months feel like 8 years. I’m tired of being so very alone. But have no idea how not to be.