13 days ago, I became a widow. It’s a word that doesn’t want to be said. It sticks to your tongue. It makes your stomach twist into knots.


I’m only in my early 30s. I have three kids under the age of six. This wasn’t supposed to be.

Now that things have begun to settle a bit and I prepare to return to work, the numbness in my chest from the shock of the unexpected death of my husband has given way to a lonely, empty space inside of me. My companion is gone.

It’s so ridiculously lonely. Even though I have a lot of people surrounding us and giving their support, it isn’t the same. This is such a lonely, scary road to be on, and I literally feel completely alone.

I plan to write more about this. I just don’t know how my life derailed in an instant. I haven’t written in two weeks. I haven’t exercised. Everything I’ve ever cared about (except for my children) has become nothing to me. My children are my only concern right now. I want to do everything to buffer them from the shittiness of what has happened. I plan to claw my way into giving them the life my husband and I hoped and planned and dreamed of, nothing less.

It sucks. I hate that our story together ended so soon.

In two days would have been our wedding anniversary.

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