A woman I know only through the Internet is going through the same thing I am, having lost her mate of many years a mere two months before I lost John. As I follow her path in her blog, I see so many similarities. We belong to a sad sisterhood, she and I. One I wish I could relinquish my membership in.
One thing that strikes me about her writings is that even though she is two months ahead of me in her path, we are still very much in the same place - and that place is static. Grief knows no timetable. Grief does not sit there and say "OK, you have reached the 9 month mark. Things are moving along. You're better now." There is no better and sad is the same whether it's 9 months or 12 months or 2 months. Maybe I don't scream as often, maybe I don't cry as intensely so often but I still do both. There are days when I want to rip down walls and break rocks, I am so upset over what has happened to John, to me, to us. John is not here, damn it. He should be. He was supposed to be. We were going to grow old together. We were going to reminisce together. We had plans. We were going to enjoy so many things and just "be" together. I/he/we have been robbed and I'm not going to ever get over that.
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