Six years ago, I went to bed happily married and woke up a widow and single mom to seven. That day, as I stared at the pieces of my shattered life and my shredded heart, I also began to think about the road of grief that lay ahead.
I had no idea what it would entail. How long does it actually take to grieve a love story that had taken 30 years to write? How could I even detach from the man who’d been my best friend since 11th grade? The one who had wooed my heart, called me his, loved me more ferociously at 46 than 16? Whose commitment pushed through hormonal pregnancies and years with a bare bank account and days when all the shine had dulled in the mundane ordinary?
How does a person grieve that?
I found there are pithy statements and even some formulas given out to those grieving. Some of it was helpful and healthy information, but some it just didn’t hold up.