“When the night was full of terrors
And your eyes were filled with tears
When you had not touched me yet
Oh, take me back to the night we met”
The failure of the first love post loss is one of the hardest. Like lava in your lungs. All you can do is sit and cry as you try to remind yourself this is not the worst thing you have endured. This. This will not be the thing to break you. It hurts now but that pain will fade. Losing your husband you carry forever. In all aspects of your being. This person will one day be nothing. A blip on the radar of all you have overcome…. and yet it tears you apart. You think of the hope you regained, if only for a second. The millions of times you have attempted to numb the fact that you were still alive before they appeared and you decided to feel alive again. Fighting the regret to acknowledge your existence. The fact that you are still capable of selfless love. That you are still lovable in one way or another. That you really are still here while they are not. This will fade. With each stumble I regain the insight of so many before who also survived. I to will survive. Even a broken heart from something that never was. Never will be. It’s not me and that’s ok. As I crawl into my bed I shared with Dave I know he is looking down holding me in me weakest moments. Feeding strength into that survivor spirit he loved so. I am never really alone. Even as I lay in an empty king size bed surrounded only by pillows.
Eventually everything dies.
Even emotions.
I am so much more than the pain I feel in this second.
“I had all and then most of you
Some and now none of you
Take me back to the night we met
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do
Haunted by the ghost of you
Oh, take me back to the night we met”
-Lord Huron (The night we met)
🙏 May this purge be quick and kind 🙏
The Optimistic Widow 