Six months ago today, my David passed away from Early on Set Alzheimer's Disease. He was as bold and determined in his illness as he tried to be in his life. He was only 58 and I miss him even more now that the reality has truly hit me. He is not coming back.
Love is a funny thing for me and he was the love of my life, even though we did not have the chocolate box romance that both of us imagined we would have.
Most days I feel exhausted and fight giving in to that, though on unimportant days I walk with the emotional strain clearly showing on my face, in my hair and on the choice of clothing.
I think far too much. Do not really sleep that well. Feel bitter, sad, disappointed, occasionally optimistic and so relieved when I imagine David spinning around feeling healthy again and doing everything that he always wanted to. I hope.
Being a widow teaches you so much, yet it's like taking the best educational course you have ever had while not being able to type up the notes or read a word from the text. I just can't take it all in right now.
I am going to make some tea and hire Adele to write a song for me. This blog entry isn't that good and that's how I feel today. Here is the lesson: Six months is taking me further from what was my normal and all I want is to go back. I can spend time focusing on other things which deem to be important until I realize that I am putting energy there, rather than admitting how painful this sixth month has been.
When I'm strong, I will use this. All of this. My anger, my hope, my love and my spirit - till then........