It’s been a while now. I’ve been reflecting on Year Three. How different it’s been and how painful it still is.

Some days I feel like I’m losing my mind again and then I try to remind myself. I’m not weird, just widowed.

Grief comes and goes as it pleases, just as love did. It arrives, like a tsunami. An energy you can’t draw a line around or control. There is no higher ground to save yourself.

Grief arrives and you have to yield in its wake. Distractions, numbing, avoidance, ‘busy-ness’, they’re all totally useless.

I have learned that I have to just sit with it. Try to keep breathing and let it move through. It leaves when it’s done. And not before.

Year One was pure shock and survival. Pain in the chest and hands and trying to breathe.

Year Two; such a raw, nervy pain. Difficult decisions and change, reluctant adjustments. Anger.

Now after the third anniversary of his death, Loneliness and Anxiety arrived. I knew Grief would bring friends that I didn’t like. Ones that I definitely didn’t want in my home. But they turned up anyway. Uninvited and unwelcome guests that stay too long. And you try to be the gracious host while your skin crawls at their presence, praying they’ll leave soon.

They made me notice the boring, slightly depressed, grieving chick in the corner that I don’t like and never wanted to hang out with. I’ve seen her around. She’s not going anywhere and seems to be harder to get rid of so I’d better make friends with her before she causes a scene.

Maybe if I sit with her for a bit, hold her hand and let her be heard, she’ll feel better.