Almost 16 months in from losing my lovely husband and soulmate to cardiac arrest and honestly, I think in some ways it's worse than ever. The anxiety-ridden panicky horror of the early days is mostly gone, thank God, but I'm left with this complete lack of colour, this sense that nothing is ever going to be anything other than bleak again. I still can't comprehend that someone so wonderful and vital and brilliant can just be gone, just like that, and that I'll never see him again. And the more time goes by, the more I'm convinced that he was it for me and there won't ever be anybody else. He was just so perfect for me that I don't see how there can be.
I'm so tired of it all. I'm alive solely for my little girl, because I refuse to leave her alone. But there's no joy in it any more. There's no joy in anything without him.