I thought it would get better by now. Husband died 2-6 and I still can't sleep and must force

[femmedem]

16. When my fiance died suddenly in his early 30s, I walked the same trail every day for a year.

In the best of weather, it was calming. In the worst, it reminded me how hard survival is for most living things, that most living things don't die of old age, and that my fiance dying wasn't unfair or uniquely tragic, just a hard fact of the world. I'm not religious, but it helped to think that molecules that he breathed were all around me, that even molecules that had passed through his porous skin were here, too.

I also couldn't sleep, and didn't eat for several weeks. I couldn't focus enough to read anything except writings about death and bereavement; everything else was just letters swirling around a page.

But one day, as I drifted asleep, I realized that for the first time, I'd made it through an entire day without crying. Of course, that made me sob. But then there were other days, and others, until it became the norm.

For a while, time was my enemy, for it seemed that every day pushed me further away from him. But time then became my friend, for it eventually allowed me to remember the love more than the grief.

This was decades ago, and I didn't have friends my own age who had been through it. I hope that you know some people who understand from experience, or that people who know you a little bit will step forward and offer support. People who did that for me got me through it.

My writing will never be the same as talking to people in person, but feel free to message me if you ever want. I probably won't answer right away--I don't spend a lot of time on DU--but I'll probably answer within 24 hours.