Navigating Life: After Spouse death

April 9, 2026 -Day 8 I know you are with me. I feel you. So I have to live with that truth. I always felt you when you were here in the physical world, whether we were sitting next to each other or on opposite sides of the country. Our connection has always been strong, anchored in the Most High. I will forever have our memories. Our life together. Our love. I am thankful and will always remember us. I love you, babe. And I will continue to love you, no matter the distance be

April 8, 2026 — Day 7 Today is day 7. I woke up feeling intense. I couldn’t really sleep. My stomach was turning, flipping. My heart felt so heavy. I had to make an early trip to the dispensary this morning. The day started off heavy… and I don’t even fully understand why. I reached out to your sister this morning, but I haven’t heard back. I’m trying to keep things moving like normal… or at least as normal as I can. But I can’t process any paperwork. Every time I try to focu

April 7, 2026 — Day 6 Today is day 6. Another day. I woke up, and it’s like life is on repeat. I have a few houses to clean today and need to go to the market. I returned the train tickets, but there’s no exact timeline for when the refund will come back. So that doesn’t help with what’s needed right now to lay you to rest. I have to find another way. You’re still there. I feel you. I hear you, loud and clear. Talking your stuff, giving me your thoughts like you always do. Th

April 6, 2026 — Day 5 Today is day 5. You’re still there… and your family and I are trying to figure out the arrangements, the money, everything. It’s caused some friction. And at the same time, it’s put life into perspective. We talked about so much. We planned so much. But we didn’t execute enough of it. Life is a wild ride… and at the same time, it’s so fragile. I’m trying to stay strong. I miss you. It’s crazy to think that our time together on this earth has now come to

April 5, 2026 — Day 4 Today is day 4. I woke up super early this morning, and my heart felt so heavy with flutters in my stomach. I cleaned up a little today. The kitchen was a mess. Our son helped with the dishes. You know how I feel about washing dishes. You were always the one who did them the most. I started washing some, just enough to keep myself busy. Your family expressed an autopsy. There was so much happening that day, and while I understood what the examiner was as

April 4, 2026 — Day 3 Today is the start of day 3. Usually by now, I’d be blowing your phone up if we had gone this long without talking. We’ve needed space before, yes, but we have never gone more than a couple of days without speaking, or at least texting. I’m missing you like crazy. I’m trying to cope with this empty space… trying to fill the space you used to fill. Trying to stay focused and not get stuck. I went for a walk this morning. Did you see that Mr. Victor owns t

April 3, 2026 — Day 2 I still cannot believe you’re gone from beside me… forever. This morning, I sat on the couch watching First Take alone. I kept looking over, expecting to feel you next to me. It was so quiet when I woke up. That’s not normal, you always have the TV on. I’m going to keep it together. I’m going to make you proud. I’m going to make sure all of our dreams still come true. I know you’re still with us. Protecting us. Watching over us. I pray to God that you ar

April 2, 2026 — Day 1 I woke up this morning around 4 a.m. and checked on you like I always do. You were freezing, so I covered you back up. I wrapped my arm around you… and something felt different. You looked different. You didn’t respond. I called 911 immediately and started CPR until they arrived, calling your name, praying, I just new you would snap out of it, but i also, knew you were gone. But there was no way I was giving up. I ran outside to flag them down. They came

This was so abrupt, so unexpected. My brain knows what happened… but it won’t accept it. I understand that God does not make mistakes. But we thought we had more time. We had plans, real plans, for the next 5–10 years. And then, just like that… you were gone. Only 39. Gone too soon. I still feel you deeply. I know you haven’t left me. I still love you like you’re here, like you’re going to wake up from a nap and walk into the kitchen with one of your jokes. I miss talking t