Navigating Life:Day 22 - After Loss of my Spouse

April 24, 2026 Day 22

Today is day 22.

Twenty-two days ago, I woke up for the last time next to my best friend, my husband, my partner in life, my earth angel.

Twenty-two days ago, my life changed forever.

That was the last day our memories were created together. The coroner came into our home and took you away. You left us, me, after 17 years, our two boys, your mother, sisters, brother, friends.

It’s still unbelievable.

Everything is the same, yet everything has changed.

It all makes sense, yet it doesn’t make sense.

My life has drastically changed, yet the world keeps moving like nothing happened.

I never imagined life without you.

I understand I will never hug you again, never look you in the eyes in the morning and plan our day, never go back and forth with you in our little banter.

I just wish we knew.

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 to you the most.

Your voice.

Your laugh.

The little things that made you you.

Your walk… hearing your slippers slide across the floor.

Watching SportsCenter in the morning.

(I still turn on Stephen A. Smith some mornings just to feel a sense of normalcy.)

I miss us just being us, together.

You brought structure to our home, your routines, your gentle firmness, your morals, your care, your goofiness, your love.

You are the best of the best.

If I had to put today into feelings:

Numb: There are long moments where I can’t think or move. All I can do is think of you.

And somehow, in the middle of all this, I still find moments to smile. I’ve felt every emotion in these 22 days; sometimes all in one day.

Eerie:How am I still here… and you’re not? How is everything still moving like normal?

Some days I want to hide.

I don’t know what to say.

And the people who care about me don’t know what to say either.

In Limbo: Why am I still here?What am I supposed to do now? I have to trust myself more than ever all. Its all on me.

Nervous / Anxious: I am the only parent left.

There’s a vulnerability I’ve never felt before. A slight fear of death that never existed in me… until now.

Because now I understand: I am the one they depend on.

Our boys are 14 and 18 critical ages. But truthfully, every age is critical.

Life feels more fragile now. More real. More urgent.

Overall

Some days I cry.

Some days I don’t.

At one point, I felt guilty for not crying more. But I know now, what I’m feeling is deeper than tears.

Mornings are the hardest.

I wake up with a heavy heart. A flutter in my stomach. And the reality on repeat, that you’re not next to me.

Not in the bed. Not in the bathroom. Not anywhere I expect you to be.

You would laugh if you saw the bed now.

I’ve been filling the space. I know you see it.

I won’t keep it this way forever… I don’t want to turn it into something unhealthy. But right now, it helps.

Surprisingly, we’re sleeping okay.

We’re eating… okay.

Today I made a real effort to cook something balanced for the boys. Homemade chicken strips (yes, fried), fries, and a big salad.

And babe…those fries?

I double soaked them.

double chilled them.

Double fried them.

They were some of the best I’ve ever made. You would’ve said something about that crunch and danced around. I made your plate too.

The boys told me we should keep making your plate… and rotate tasting it for you.

We laughed.

We love you so much, and we’re going to make sure you live on through us every single day.

Protected

I know, without a doubt, that God and you are with us.

I may be the one physically driving the car…but I know you still have a hand on the wheel.

God has the direction and we are covered.

Faithful

I believe God has something ahead for the children and I.

This was too big not to.

And I believe you are at peace, fully enjoying your afterlife.

That thought brings me comfort.

You were and are a real one.

Open, but still processing

I’m open to what’s ahead…

But I’m still trying to understand this reality.

A decision I made today

I decided to seek temporary professional support—therapy.

mostly because, I recognize:

• I need tools

• I need a space to talk about you

• I need somewhere to process without feeling like I’m interrupting someone’s life

I’ve noticed I’ve been on the phone longer than usual.

That’s not like me.

And I don’t expect people to carry this with me all the time.

So this is part of me taking care of myself.

I’m also journaling.

This is my journal entry.

For a long time, all I needed was God, my husband, and our children.

This loss… has me lost.

So I’m sharing this, because loss is something we will all face, but very few people talk about it honestly.

This is our closest loss and a devastating one for my family.

I need tools for everyday life now.

Because I think of you every single day.I pray for you every single day and I will never stop loving you.

My mind still won’t fully accept that you’re gone.

I understand what happened.

I was there.

No signs of life, they said.

But through all of this…

I thank God for healing you completely.

I thank God for every moment we had, right up until the end.

Thank you for choosing me. You didn’t have to.

It is truly better to have loved… than to have never loved at all.

I am so grateful for you.

Rest in Peace and Power

Love

Latika Jones

#grief #death #deathofahusband #lifeafterloosingyourspouse #loosingaspouse