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Three years


It’s seems so strange writing three years. Three years since I lost him. This time three years ago I was settling in for the night shift by his bed after being told we were gonna loose him at any point.
I knew as I said goodbye to him early on the 4th that deep down we wouldn’t have him for the day. My poor guy was tired of it all.

So jump forward three years to now. It does feel like it was just yesterday. I read somewhere that the first year you are just numb. The second you accept. But my goodness you should be warned about the third. This year so far has been horrible. In a way I’m glad that his birthday and anniversary are at the start of the year. Gives me enough of a gap till my wedding anniversary.
If the three years has taught me anything it’s that it has to be at your pace. For all that I got annoyed at taking ‘baby steps’ i know now that it was what was needed for me. That family members might annoy you with there way of thinking / dealing with there own loss ( his side ) And the friends that truly matter will stay around, whether you know it at the time or not. And don’t even get me started on making new friends and having to 1. Tell them that I’m widowed and 2. To stop being so weird around me and stop trying so hard to make conversation.
That my mental health could take a side swipe at me and at times give me another battle of its own. But some how (at the minute) I’m the won winning the fight.
Three years has also taught me that looking after yourself needs to be a priority. Being in a flat by myself there has been times that there hasn’t been the want to eat properly. Going from making meals for two to one was a stumbling block for a while. I’ve also learnt that self care time is a definite. Cancelling appointments for a day walking along the beach can massively help. I’ve done it a few times and man can it clear the cobwebs.
But it’s also shown me that I’m strong enough ( in that minute ) to stand up in front of people and present a trophy in his name every year. I then run out the room and cry. But hey it’s part of life these days.

Did I sign up for this new 2.0 life? NOPE, NADA, do I want the old one back? Honestly I want him back but not the life of him being in hospital for 9 months straight. This is the hand I’ve been dealt and like so many people I know we are now living a life we didn’t want or expect but we’re in it. And coping the best we know how.  X



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