It’s been 32 days since my husband fell into his final sleep and it’s feels like each day is getting harder. Everyone keeps telling me how well I’m doing and how proud they are of me but I am heartbroken. It’s the little things that are gut wrenching - like Dave always used to alter the clocks when they went back. The pain is physical - even thought I am very lucky to have a supportive loving family (including four grandchildren - one who was born just three days after Dave passed away) I try to occupy myself with them and can keep a brave face on but the minute they leave it all just swamps me again.
I feel angry that although we had 25 amazing years together we should have had at least another 25 to go - I am a widow at 52 and have lost my soulmate. Apart from our family we never needed anyone else as we were everything to each other. Everywhere that I go reminds me of him.
We loved walking our fur baby but now those places are tinged with sadness as all I can do is remember walking hand in hand with him or sitting on a bench with a coffee just chatting.
I need a hug but I need it from him.
I know o should probably go back to work as being at home on my own isn’t helping but I can’t beat the thought of coming home and him not being here - he was furloughed throughout his illness so was always waiting for me to get home.
I know everyone on here is suffering, hence we are here but I just needed to get it out as I don’t want to burden my family with my sadness
How lucky are we to have have loved someone and been loved
