I can empathise Bellab my husband went out on a routine cycle ride and never came back. Air ambulance, police came looking for me, took me down the motorway on blue lights. Too late
I have never spent time moping and yes he was the love of my life. He would not have wanted me to mope through self-pity. I slammed doors, I had weepy outbursts on my own at home and concentrated on keeping myself well, getting rid of that nasty cortisol that made my heart beat so loud in my ears at night
I read books about loss, I talked to other widows, even strangers on a bus. Gradually I came to understand about stages of grief and 3 years later was able to look for my new home and moved, to make a life for myself
I remain cheery and upbeat, that part of my nature that my husband loved most. I think of him very often but am never morbid, always grateful for the time we had together and for our children
The thing I wanted to know in the first stage was `does it get better?` I asked two women on a bus, they told me that you learn to live with it. That was good enough for me and it gave me hope
I kept myself very busy during the first stages, there was a lot of paperwork and de-cluttering and many things to hand on, not sold on but given to other people as a gift, when I saw a need. My husband would have loved that