Not in a bad way. It could have been, but it wasn’t.
Everyone got on with their lives. They did what they planned on doing, they took trips, they went to work, and I was left to my own devices.
It could have gone either way – I could have fallen into a pit of despair. I could have wallowed in my grief. I could have submerged myself in the abyss of nothingness…
Or I could have risen up. I could have done the things that needed to be done. I could have cleaned the house, did the dishes, moved furniture, sorted out the legal stuff, carried on with life.
Everyone went on with their lives, my friend went on her trip and I was left with my kids and my house and all the chaos that went along with it.
I cleaned instead of hiding.
I decluttered instead of wallowing.
I organized instead of submerging.
I stood up and took care of things. I did what I needed to do. I parented, and re-learned how to do the things that needed to be done, and I found a peace of sorts.
I still miss him.
I still have moments, hours, days where I can’t breathe for missing him.
But I keep going. I know it’s what he would have wanted – it’s how he’d have handled it. He would have pushed me to move forward, move on and do what needed to be done.
So I keep going.
And when life starts to overwhelm me – I tackle something in my house until I have something under control.
I think that’s what it’s about for me – I can’t control that he’s gone. I can’t control where my life is going to end up. But I can control how clean my house is, how organized, how peaceful. And so I will control that.
I keep going. Despite how much I miss him.