Three years later, I accept I'll live with this grief forever
My Favourite Husband and I ready to race. I will always grieve his loss. I’ve finally admitted to myself that the grief I have for My Favourite Husband (MFH) is a living entity and one that I’ll live with for the rest of my life. That sounds naive, like something that I should know, that should be obvious. And it is. But it’s not. I’ve done a lot of work on healing myself. But really, what does that mean? I thought healing would mean my grief would soften, be less painful. More of a dull ache and less searingly raw. I thought it would show up as poignant memories and that I’d feel wistful as I reflected. I thought every crumb of work I’d done to move forward — both inches and feet — would be rewarded with walking hand in hand with grief and not still being gut-punched by it over three years later. I thought, by now, that my grief would be sad. Sometimes it is. Sometimes it’s sad in the fact that time stopped when MFH died. I should say time stopped for him, for us. But not for
