Two years of denial

The world feels different now. Muted. Blurred. Like I'm moving through a thick fog that no one else can see. It's been almost two years since I lost my husband, and honestly, a part of me still can't quite grasp it. Every day, I wake up with a sense of peace before the reality sets in – he's gone. With that comes a wave of pain so deep that I feel physical pain.

This is the painful effects of denial and grief that so many people know all too well.

It never ends.

For me, denial is more like a protective bubble, a temporary shield against the unbearable truth.

He is never coming back.

It's not just sadness; it's a deep, aching void that vibrates all through every part of me. It's the sharp pang of loneliness when I realize I'm eating his favorite food without him, the sudden welling of tears when I hear "our song," the overwhelming sense of injustice that he was taken too soon.

This pain has manifested in countless ways. It's often a tight knot in my stomach, a sense of constant exhaustion, and a heavy fog that makes even simple tasks feel monumental. I've had moments where the pain feels so intense, I wonder how I'll ever breathe normally again.

So I move around. A lot.

Two years later I am in as much denial about his death as I was about his health.

Denial has been my shield.

I continue to pray for strength and peace.

Until we meet again DT 💖forever in my heart 🥺