Waking up in the morning is still the worst time of day for me.  It used to be the best time.  Especially Sunday mornings, because that was the only day of the week we had to relax and do whatever we wanted.  We always had our coffee and breakfast while watching a favorite Sunday morning TV show we both liked.  Now I can't even drink coffee anymore because of the extreme anxiety I suffer from ( and oh how I loved my coffee), and even after 2.5 years I can't watch that show.  I was dreaming of him this morning.  Just a dream where we were young and were with some of our friends.  Normal and ordinary, as our life was.  That made waking up pure torture.

I still miss him and that ordinary life we had.  Now each morning when I wake up, I have to think of how to fill my days with trying to stay busy, but I have no purpose.  For 45 years, everything I did was with my husband and family in mind.  When it became just the two of us, I took care of him and he took care of me.  We both worked, he took care of the yard, cars, etc. and I took care of cooking and inside stuff.  We enjoyed our kids and grandkids, and they all adored him.  Then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.  A sudden heart attack.  On an ordinary Tuesday night.

I try so hard, but my life is so unbearable without him.  I have my family, but they can't fill that void.  Their love for me is different from the love of a husband.  2.5 years seems like such a long time, but my real life stopped that night, so for me it's like it was yesterday.  I am trying hard to find acceptance and learn how to be content with myself alone, but it's still so hard.  I walk every day, go to an exercise class, spend time with my sister.  My kids call every day.  I pick up my grandkids from school some days.  They alone bring me joy.  I fake being okay, but inside I'm empty.  I feel like an alien, even to myself.  I don't wallow in self pity. I just try to survive each day.  And I do have hope.

Thanks for letting me vent.  This is the only place I can do that.

Linda