Well, I survived the holidays – went through the motions at least. As expected, my heart wasn’t really into the holidays this year, but I did my best to put on a good front for my grandchildren. After all, who wants to put a damper on Santa’s visit?  

When NYE rolled around, I did in fact make myself shrimp scampi over tri-color penne.  If I do say so myself, it wasn’t bad – certainly not as tasty as Chuck’s but pretty good for someone who hasn’t cooked in over 20 years. I think he would have been proud.

The holidays have come to a close, decorations are slowly being taken down, and life moves on. The world around me seems focused on returning to regular routines or making resolutions for personal improvement.  Not me, though. You see, when you step into a new year without your person, you aren’t sure what you are supposed to do.  I didn’t want 2025 to end, because it would always be the last year that Chuck was physically present in our lives, the last time I laughed with him, the last time I held his hand, so many lasts.  I wanted to hold onto those “lasts.” But time moves on with or without you.

Yesterday, I went back to school.  Boy, did that 5:30 alarm sound extra harsh after so many alarmless mornings!  Going back to my routine was anything but normal because there is nothing “normal” in my life without Chuck.  Grief is a heaviness you carry with you every day, all day.  It is a weight that you carry in your heart, in your head, in your bones. When Chuck lost his life, mine changed forever. I lost my identity as a wife and am not sure what my new identity as a widow will be.  

Life as I knew it will never be the same; I will never be the same.  There is a sadness that has settled into every cell of my being that wasn’t there before. Yet I am still here, plugging away each day, attempting to do all the things. Weariness has become a new best friend who hits me every evening, tying me to the chair and leaving me unable to do much more than eat dinner.

Grief is a beast.  It crashes in on you in unexpected waves, taking you to your knees.  There is nothing anyone can say or do to help with the process. It is just something I have to go through without a road map.  It is not something anyone wants to experience, yet it is the result of great love. So if this is the price I have to pay for having Chuck in my life for almost 52 years, for loving him, for being loved by him, for building a beautiful family and life with him – then so be it.

Don’t get me wrong – I hate every part of this grief journey so far, but I am hoping I will learn to let grief live next to me and not consume me. I hope my days will become less tear-filled and more joy-filled as time goes on. I still don’t know how I am supposed to function in this world without Chuck by my side, and I still don’t know what “normal” will look like for me, but I am working on it.