After the death of a dearly beloved your sadness seems endless and I’m not implying that there is going be an end to the sadness but strangely enough, you do get used to living with grief. Mourning, in time, becomes a second nature, it certainly takes over your life and redirects your path into a different destiny.
While I watched my old word fall apart I couldn’t help thinking why did this happen to me?
But why should it not? I’m well aware that in time something similar will happen to all of us, for death, although beyond our comprehension, may be our only certainty, so why is it that hard to accept? How come?
In my head I have re-lived his last days over and over again. Was there anything he or I could have done to prevent his death from happening?
In other words; was there someone to blame? Why do we have this need to make somebody responsible when something bad occurres but just call it luck when what happens is good.
But no matter what, he will not return, this acceptance of him not coming back took me a long time. The knowledge that there was nothing that I could do made me feel small and insignificant.
It forced me to remember how fragile life is.
I must have entered a state of shock, following my husband’s sudden death, for I experienced no feelings, there were no tears, and I was completely unable to react to this enormous sense of pain and abandonment that had taken me by surprise.
True, I’ve never been great at expressing my feelings, but this was so final and abrupt that my whole being was paralysed by it. It wasn’t until weeks later that I finally broke down and started crying.
Once the denial was no longer an option and the bargaining had failed completely.