As MawsRosie said everyone grieves differently. My DH died in 2022; we had been married for 56 years. I loved him to distraction, and it was reciprocated, and though I did shed tears in the early months, after that, I couldn’t cry (I’m not by nature an emotional person), and I somehow felt guilty, as if I was shortchanging him. I would go to our favourite places and try and get a sense of him there so that it would trigger something, but - nothing. So I gave up the pilgrimages and let things take their course. No tears. Ok. But in fact, they were never far from the surface and the triggers were weird. I got rid of most of his stuff and yes it was hard, but not gut wrenching. A job that had to be done. Then I went to throw his battered old walking boots away and was suddenly a wreck, clinging to them, out by the bin, sobbing my heart out. A photo I took of both our shadows, side by side on a path made me weep, and on holiday with the family in 2023 where the coast path ran past our cottage, I was sitting in the garden and a couple about the same age as us walked past hand in hand and looked at me and smiled. I suddenly saw us instead of them and was inconsolable.
The worst thing his death did to me was to completely sap my confidence. We were always joined at the hip, and it’s taking me a long time to find the bit of ‘us’ that was ‘me’ while still keeping the ‘us’ which I never ever want to lose. It’s a painfully slow process. I feel as if I’m in calmer waters these days, but still get the heavy weight in my chest for no fathomable reason and have to ride it out, as we all do who find ourselves on this hard, endless road.