My husband passed away a little over two months ago. I am slowly, but surely, recapturing myself. Now that I look back on our ordeal, I realize that one of the most difficult aspects - one which I could not dissuade myself of - was the hopelessness of our situation. I have always been the greatest of optimists, but now I could find nothing to look forward to. Any missteps that I had made in my relationship with my husband were past repairing, any trips that we had planned on taking together for years would never happen, there was no new house or condo to decorate together, come spring no new garden to plant. All of the "togethers" were erased from my agenda. Even the hope that we'd finally share a grandchild didn't seem to be possible. As I emotionally sleepwalked through his illness, I felt as though life itself had somehow surreptitiously leaked away. Then he died. So very peacefully. I still cannot bring myself to picture him lying there.
But now two months down the road, I am starting to recover. I'm helped by a wonderful grief counselor from Hospice whom I see every other week and by the fact that my son and his partner have announced plans to marry and have children. Hope for the future has reentered my life and is invigorating me. I'm also making plans to get back to my workout regime. If I carry through with this last, it will be no small measure of how far I've come.
My wishes for future hope and happiness for everyone.