Almost two years ago

 Two years ago at the end of May my beloved husband of 33 years was promoted to heaven. I was 18 when we had met and 19 when I married. This was 2020, the year of lockdown, Covid 19. 

Do you remember the news?

 Black Lives Matter, running out of toilet rolls, a world pandemic, the country was closed. It was in this confusing worked that I found myself thrust into widowhood. 

We were forced to do Church at home and all contact was virtual. I had come of a nursing course to care for my husband and so was without a job. 

There was a sense of unreality. He was gone from this world and I had to learn to live without him. I am a Christian and the Churches were closed. I felt cut off from people. I knew I wasn't alone that many others had lost loved ones at the same time, a lot to them from Covid. There were reports of them being denied the opportunity to say goodbye. I knew I should be thankful, I had been with John every day in the hospice and was with him when he died. 

I made myself survive the only way I knew how.

1. Exercise

2. Eat a protein shake if I couldn't eat anything else.

3. Pray 

4. Keep a journal.

5. Get up, keep busy.

6. Give thanks. 

I did all of this and it helped. But within me there was this deep yearning. An aching for someone to love me. I am loved by my children and my dog, But somehow this didn't satisfy me. I now know this is part of the grieving process, a felt physical longing for my husband.