Hanging in There.

I continue to grieve the physical finality of losing Ken and I am trying very hard to come to grip with the fact that I will not see him again in this life.

It is not easy.

Everyday I wrestle with the feelings of loneliness and anger of being alone. Sleepless nights and the pressure of sudden responsibilities had taken a huge toll on my physical and mental energy. Even routine things seem to take more effort. It felt like all the strength had gone out from my body. I didn't see a reason to get out of bed. I had to use all the tricks I had learned just to get the day started.

Many people tried to comfort me but unless they have experienced loss, they can't fathom the sick, gut wrenching feeling that come with losing someone. My husband was everything to me. He took good care of me in every way and made all the major decisions. Now I feel so scared and alone to be doing all I need to do, things I've never done before and not having my greatest supporter by my side is truly worrisome.

When Ken was still around, part of his strategy for enjoying things is to share it with me. He would take me to the lake to watch the birds that have migrated there, or look for deer and other wildlife. We even traveled north to witness the changing of the leaves. I took that photo above in one of our trips. Everything always seems better when we share it together. But now that he is gone my ability to enjoy these things had declined, especially since he made me feel important and loved in a daily basis.

When people asked me, "How are you doing?", I would normally respond " Hanging in there."

But I don't even understand where is "there". Is it a definite destination? Will I even know once I get there that I am finally "there"? Will I feel a lot better knowing I have arrived?

Or maybe, it is just a process. I hang on till I turned a corner - a corner of acceptance. Not necessarily the acceptance of losing Ken, but accepting the emotions that come with it.

Oh I wish I am "there" already.