When Reg died, I felt as if my world shattered into many pieces. I felt pain like nothing I’d ever experienced or even thought was possible to experience. The day after his death, I sat on my couch with my mom. I sobbed uncontrollably and told her, “I can’t do this.” Then I realized that, of course, I could do this (meaning go through his death) because I had no choice, and I’m tough. However, I didn’t want to do this. I repeatedly said, “I don’t want to do this.” The grief felt so unbearable. Since that day, I’ve felt as if his death broke my world into “before” and “after.” In many ways, it feels as if his death broke me.
A woman in my widows’ group read a book where the author said that with grief, every event is tainted. I feel the same way. It’s as if the thought of Reg and my grief sit on top of my head all day long. No matter what I do, they are constantly there. When I attend events or go places we had visited together, it saddens me to remember our past and to know we will never have those experiences again. New experiences are challenging for me because he can’t be a part of them, he isn’t there to talk to me about them, and he can’t support me through them. Even though he is dead, he’s woven into every fabric of my life. Every event, place, or experience is tainted, and it’s tainted with sadness or bitterness.
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