Dear Dead Husband, 

 

It will be 6 years next month, since you died. 

So, I think that’s more than enough time to conclude the following: 

This widow thing? 

This “you being dead” thing?

This “not what I signed up for” thing?

Yeah. 

Not a fan. 

I’ve decided I don’t care for this. 

I will, of course, keep trodding along,

keep finding new meaning in life,

keep helping others, 

helping myself, 

blah blah blah,

all that shit, 

because what choice do I have?

I would never end things.

It is not in me. 

Even when I really want to.

Even when Im just so tired of trying,

that I feel like I cant function.

I wouldnt end things.

I would not cause that pain,

to those who love me.

And I would not give up on life,

knowing,

that you would give ANYTHING,

just to still be here.

To be able to live your life,

with me. 

So I wont do that. 

 

But I just wanted you to know,

that this shit sucks,

and that even though the raw, horrific parts of grief,

have mostly subsided,

NOW, 

now is, in some ways,

even harder.

Because now I am living. 

I am living again,

instead of just existing,

instead of just grieving,

instead of just trying to get through the day. 

Living,

thats the hard stuff. 

Searching for love. 

The kind of love that I KNOW,

you want for me. 

The kind of love that I deserve.

The kind of love that you would give me,

if you were allowed to still live. 

You want that for me.

And I want that for me.

And thats how I know its out there.

I just wish it would make itself clear.

Ive been looking.

Ive been dating.

And dating,

and dating,

and dating. 

Ive been dumped. 

Hurt. 

Betrayed. 

Left. 

Abandoned. 

Cheated on. 

Given the “you are beautiful and funny and amazing, but ….” speech. 

I havent  found anyone, 

that sees my worth,

the way you did. 

The way I now do,

because of you. 

 

So,

this shit sucks. 

And its not just the dating.

Its the living. 

Doing life without you. 

Its hard.

Very, very hard. 

There are so many things,

I want to tell you.

Everyday. 

I suppose that will never stop. 

I just wish things were easier.

I wish I wasnt struggling.

I wish money was a thing I had. 

I wish I knew what path to take.

I wish I had a clue. 

Im writing my book about you.

About us. 

About your life and death,

and my life now. 

And I feel like I dont know how to end it.

How do you end something like that?

I dont know. 

There is no ending. 

No big life lesson to learn. 

The end, is the same as the beginning.

You are still dead. 

Forever. 

And this shit sucks,

forever.