My life was once filled with joy and simplicity before my husband became ill. Like many who enjoy a comfortable lifestyle, I didn’t fully grasp the extent of my happiness until it was shattered. Since his passing, I often find myself asking, “What was life like before the illness?” In search of answers, I glanced back at my Google calendar.
In early October, shortly before he began experiencing severe stomach pain, my calendar was packed with activities: “Dad chaperoning a first-grade field trip,” “fall picnic at the elementary school,” “guitar lessons,” and “dinner with friends.” It felt so ordinary—so normal.
Reflecting on those entries led me down a path of memories, trying to pinpoint when everything changed. I spent time recalling a child’s birthday party and whether he was bedridden that day. I even reached out to friends, questioning if they were aware of his health struggles at certain moments. When did it all spiral downward?
Although it’s easy to say that everything shifted on January 9th, the day he died, I think it truly began on November 29th. That was when he returned home from the hospital with a scan indicating a possible cancer diagnosis. After consulting with my father, a retired doctor, we were both concerned yet hopeful, thinking things couldn’t be as dire as they seemed.
Later that day, I went to a friend’s house to pick up my kids, and I called my sister, who was celebrating her birthday. I chose not to share our worries; I didn’t want to spoil her day. But when she called me back, crying, I understood the gravity of our situation. My sister, an ER nurse, rarely shows emotion, and her tears spoke volumes. I stood in my friend’s daughter’s room, surrounded by toys, and thought, “This is real.”
I tried to remain composed for my husband, who was already anxious. That night, we fell asleep holding hands; he drifted off peacefully while I struggled to find rest. Thus began the harrowing six weeks that followed, leading to two and a half months of uncertainty. Was it truly only four months since my life felt normal? Or did I need to look even further back? Perhaps I should revisit late September, when we camped with friends, enjoying an idyllic autumn day with our children.
As I write this, I realize I can’t pinpoint the last moment of pure happiness. Maybe it was that camping trip or perhaps a cozy movie night with my husband, or watching him walk our kids to school. In those joyful moments, I was so immersed in life that I didn’t stop to appreciate it. Life was simply perfect.
Now, as I grapple with this “new normal,” I face daily challenges that trigger sadness. Whether it’s a Facebook memory from a happier time, a burned-out lightbulb I can’t change, or witnessing my child do something adorable without him there to share the moment—I find myself lost. I feel like a new parent again, overwhelmed and uncertain, except this time, the sadness weighs heavily.
To make sense of my feelings, I’ve started a blog. Writing helps me connect the dots of my life, both before and after my husband’s passing. It’s also a way to communicate with loved ones who want to know how I’m managing. Truthfully, I’m unsure how I’m doing it, but I know I have no choice but to keep moving forward.
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In summary, navigating life after loss is a daunting journey filled with sorrow and uncertainty, but writing about my experiences has become a lifeline. It’s my way of processing the past and connecting with others, even as I learn to embrace this new reality.
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