DH died nearly 3 years ago. I've done so well (even if I say so myself!). I've kept house and home together, supported struggling DC, made new friends (as the old ones disappeared, as is apparently often the case), thrown myself into some interests, got a new job, but to achieve all that I've spent a lot of time smiling and waving, coping outwardly when I really just wanted to go to bed for a long time.
Today I've had a set back, a small thing has gone wrong, if I said what it was to anyone, they'd think what a fuss over nothing, but I have just crumbled and not been able to apply myself to anything all day.
A friend has been in touch and made suitably sypathetic noises, but clearly doesn't realise the full impact on me (because why would he?) which has left me strangely disappointed and lonely.
I have to pick myself up from this and carry on...