Today marks 18 months since my husband died. One and a half years. Forever.
He was in the Air Force and often went TDY (temporary duty) in our first years together and mostly I didn’t know where he was during those times and would watch the news to maybe figure it out. But he was never gone for more than a few weeks at a time and then he’d be home safe with me and we’d carry on our love affair of a marriage.
This is the longest we’ve ever been apart. And, presumably, given my mostly young (ish) age, I’ll spend many years without him. None of that is alright, in any way.
But how many more ways are there to say how much I miss him? Language fails me. 18 months seems like such a long time and I know that there is no timeline for grief but after a while it feels like life really has gone on without him and yet I’m standing still. Not literally-I’ve been striving to create the life I must create without him but my heart and mind and soul are still very much with him and grieving his absence from me. There are no words left.
It’s discouraging to read about women who have been widowed and their experiences with men after their loved one’s death and how awful it is “out there”. My heart is open to loving again and I know Chuck wanted that for me but the very idea of it feels un-natural and I think how on earth is it possible, (especially given the general consensus of the lack of decent men) for me to find anyone that could possibly measure up to my standards? I was shocked that Chuck and I found each other in the first place and maybe I’ve had my love story already and need to be content with that.
But, 18 months in, I crave the feel of a man’s arms around me. A man to hold me in a way only a man is able. The energy. The yin/yang of masculine/feminine. A gentleman. A romantic. A lover. A man who will have my back. Someone who knows me. Someone who cherishes me. Chuck did all of those things and more and I miss it, and him, so godawful much I could die except I haven’t and so I must go on. And it sucks the big one in ways that sear me into my bones.
I just want him back. And I can’t have him back. And so…now what?