Today marks 8 months. Tracking the months feels right this first year. I am keenly aware that the second year will be icky, too, because the “firsts” become the “forevers” as the deeper reality of life as a wayfinding widow hits home.
When you share grief stuff on social media, the algorithms feed you more grief. While I relate to many posts and videos that I don’t scroll past, I’m pondering what I uniquely offer to this platform and to the world. Will I write a book someday? Start a podcast? Further my coaching training and become a grief coach? I have a Grief Support Specialist certification. Might I be a grief educator? I think I already am in my own way. I see what you’re up to, God.
Although I appreciate folks suggesting widow Facebook groups, they are not for me. I have a community of widows IRL who I intend to join when the time feels right. Thankfully, they are patient and understanding.
Grief causes one to pause and question just about everything. While I know that my essence remains the same, I also know I am forever changed. Will previous joys like singing ever come back? Who knows. A quote I heard on one of those grief podcasts resonated with me this morning:
“Grief does not give two shits about what our culture thinks of it, much less any arbitrary timeline.” ~ Shelby Forsythia on her “Grief Grower” podcast
The grief will keep on griefing as long as it takes. For now, 8 months it is.
Hubs, I think you would be proud. I am proud of myself. It still sucks that you are not here. I will keep going until we meet again.