Hi Bugmq 
This is so bloody long and my english is disgusting, I apologise for that
I'll tell you my story. In November this year I will have been a widow for 6 years. I am 43 years old. And we have a son who is 12 years old.
My hubby came home from work on a sat afternoon. Our son who was nearly 6 at the time said hello to his dad, and went off to play in a neighbours house.
I remember being in a tiz that day, I had loads on. And wanted to get all my housework done. As hubby had been out since midnight on a run to Scotland. (A Knight of the road). And just wanted to spend the later part of the afternoon relaxing. When he came home, I still had floors to clean, tea to cook (curry) ready for the night. And a 12mth old lab to walk.
He came into the kitchen as I prepared tea, and bloody tryed it on, I brushed him off cause he was knackered. He had had a really tough week at work long working days. He got on the settee and dozed of. Got up to go to the bathroom. And literally that was it. Heart attack blah blah.
I did mouth to mouth under the instructions of 999. We had 2 young girls living next door at the time. Teacher Students. Next door came in and helped me as remember the ambulance coming and his family as I phoned them.
I remember the shame of him not coming round why I was trying resusitate him, and trying to protect his dignity. WShen the paramedics arrived I remember I kept laughing and alternately praying and then seeing a big dark empty void in front of me. Panicking over my son, in case he saw the ambulance, And swearing that he was going to be ok. All the way through and even in the Ambulance and later at Hospital. The dark void was there it followed me. I could feel it creeping over my head. But couldnt believe what was happening. I kept shouting at him to open his eyes and stop messing.
But of course he didnt. I dont think I could ever really describe how I felt. But all around me I had people telling me what to do, where to go. And all I could think about then was our lovely georgous happy son. Who adored and idolised his dad. Worshipped his every move. Watched his every move.
What the fuck was I going to tell him. How the fuck do you tell your child there dad is fucking dead. And how do you tear your childs whole life apart.
I did of course. And the silence that came over our house that night. It was silent and dark, empty and strange eerie. (sorry about spelling mistakes lol).
Later when we came back from hospital. I even took the bloody dog for a walk. Me, Our son and his eldest DS from his 1st marriage. I remember pointing at the stars, And explaining the Angels had come for his daddy. The nurse at the hospital, who had treated my hubby. Had somehow managed to punctuate my brain. And tell me she knew my hubby from school. She had been through the same thing and had told her daughter. Angels came for daddy, they needed him. So that was the story I decided to tell.
Obviously the next few days where a bloody blur, I remember my son just sitting at the top of the stairs, and just silently playing with cars. Or sitting on the rug silently playing with cars or silently hugging the dog.
I remember in the few days before the funeral, thinking we both needed new clothes for the funeral. And I needed my roots doing. I was determined that though my face would be a mess, the rest of me wouldnt lol.
And copious amounts of red wine (cant stand the bloody stuff now).
Oh and the people, visitors lots and cards, and being stopped in the street and people walking across the road to avoid me that really bloody hurt bastards.
I remember his sil and nephew (16) coming th our house the day before the funeral. And actually counting how many bloody cards we had. And how nan and grandad had loads more. I can and do laugh about that now. And putting Gawd damn string on the bloody wall to hang the fuckers 
I hate them bloody sympathy cards. What a waste of a poor tree. Dont get me wrong, I know people mean well and all that.
On the day of the funeral, if it wasnt for my son. I would never have gone home. I was more that happy to stay in that there pub and drink.
And afterwards that is the worse time, the silence is so very bloody deafening. Your in this great big bloody tunnel. Your grief (that is a word that used to puzzle me). The problem is when you have children, you arent just dealing with your grief, but there own grief, and the grief you feel as a parent as well. Its like 3 seperate forms of it.
He has taken all that grief that he would / should of felt. And bundled it into a great big hulking labrador dog. The dog is still with us. And gawd bloody help us the day owt happens to the dog. I will be back on the red wine then lol
I dont believe my boy, has ever grieved his dad. he dont like talking about him and its a rare day, when he mentions his dad. I talk about him always have and always will. I think its important for us both more so for my boy, that his memory is kept alive. My son has had in Y1, counselling and anger management. Which was aided by his teacher at the time. A lady who I will always have the utmost respect for. She did help my broken boy. Cause he was broken, we both were. Then in Y5, he went away with school to the lakes, and had nightmares and I think he had flashbacks. He went very quiet again for awhile.
I spoke to Winstons Wish. Who told me it isnt uncommon for bereaved children to start the grieving process again every 7 years. As obviously as they grow older the more they understand things and question things. Which when you think about it its right. School arranged for us to go to berevement centre. Parents in 1 room, kids in another. I managed to get my son to agree to give it a try and just see what it was like. They play games and stuff.
2 Days before we went. My lovely Mil got to him, telling him he dont need it blah blah They think counselling is all namby pamby 
And he point blank refused to go. So all that there grief is still there. (Although on an aside note a friend went through exactly the same her daughter was 9 yrs old. 23yrs old now studying for a Masters Degree. And like my boy only very occasionally talks about her dad. Never really grieved).
Maybe us mums are supercool and have took it over for them 
Your grief come is stages, shock, disbelief, sadness, oh and the anger so bloody angry 
blood boiling. You are angry with them for leaving you, your child, leaving you to deal with well everything. And the guilt, that you learn to live with. And the slow dawning realisation that life HAS bloody changed. You are responsible for everything. EVERYTHING.
And people ohhh the people and there bloody opinions of how you should be dealing with things, how you should be dealing with your child. And the well meaning. " I know how you are feeling, when tommy left me" or "when we divorced" EEEEERRRRRRRRR NO I dont bloody think so. You spilt up, I didnt have the luxury of such a choice. My child will never ever see there dad again, your kids will. I can smile at some of these words today. Still get exasperated by people though. Especially when folk are moaning and whinging about trivial things. Private thoughts are get a bloody life.
This is LIFE CHANGING. Its something you HAVE to learn to live with. The pain does not go away. Put simply YOU DO LEARN TO LIVE WITH IT AND LIVE AGAIN. You have to for you and your daughter.
And 1st's well darling there will be lots and lots of them. 6 years on, and theres still some I havent done. But nowadays, with them 1st's comes a sad smile and oh sooooooo very very many happy memories. And yes we had a very tumultous marriage as well. he was a right bastard at times but I might have been a bit of a bitch as well . And one thing I have never done is put him on a pedestal. He was my soulmate.
Oh and we have special things going on here, a big memory box, we let balloons go on special occasions, raise a glass to him ect.