The difficulty I have is that I do not much like or want this new life. I know that is a fault, but I can vividly remember the resistance inside me at the first New Year after DH died. Well- meaning (no doubt) friends talked about a new year and facing a new life.
Well I just wanted the bloody old life back thank you very much!
My feeling, exactly, Maw. I didn't ask for or want the life I now have but I also know it's the only one I have so I must live it as best I can. The love I shared with OH must now sustain me for the rest of my life because what's the alternative? Either I get up and get on with things, however hard that is; or I turn into a sort of Miss Havisham recluse, hidden away, grieving for what I can never have again; or I chuck myself off a cliff.
There have been times when that last one has come under serious consideration but, thanks to my psychotherapist and the sure knowledge that if there is an afterlife, OH would never forgive me, the possibility is receding.
No, as Whiff says, we must live our lives to the full. We only get one go on the carousel.
It's lonely, knowing that whatever you do now, you will always do it alone even though other people are present. But do it we will.
As things start to open up and function again, I'm starting to pick up on former activities, particularly vintage transport preservation which was an enthusiasm I shared with OH. So far, our friends and acquaintances have been completely accepting of "just me", treated me with friendly consideration but no particular extra kindness or weirdness such as Hetty describes. Thank goodness!
The hardest days are the ones when I wake from a dream of OH and, just briefly, think he is there beside me and turn to say "good morning". And yet, I would hate never to dream of him!