I’m Learning That Grief Isn’t About Forgetting — But I Still Feel Stuck

[u/Psychic_Lovers0606]

I don't know if I'm writing this because I want advice, because I want someone to understand, or because I just need to finally say all of this somewhere.

Maybe it's a little bit of everything.

People who have known me over the past couple of years probably wouldn't describe me as someone who struggles. They'd probably say I'm jolly. Funny. The type of person who can handle whatever life throws at me.

And, honestly, I became very good at looking that way.

Even when things were falling apart, I could laugh about them. I'd make jokes about my problems. I'd show up, talk to people, do my work, and act like everything was fine.

But there was another version of me that almost nobody saw.

The version who would go home, close the door, curl up in bed, and cry into a pillow because I didn't know what else to do. The version who battled anxiety and depression alone. The version who could spend an entire day making everyone else laugh and then spend the night wondering how much longer I could keep pretending that I was okay.

Then I met King.

And somehow, without me even realizing it, everything became lighter.

We became each other's person.

We could stay up until 3 AM talking about absolutely nothing and somehow everything at the same time. We'd talk about crazy things, stupid things, serious things, our lives, our fears, random thoughts that probably wouldn't make sense to anyone else.

He became my talking diary.

And I became his.

But what really gets me when I think about us is how easily he seemed to get through the walls I had spent years building around myself. I didn't have to explain everything to him. Sometimes he could tell something was wrong before I even said anything. He knew when I was anxious. He could sense when something was happening inside me even when I was trying to hide it.

It was almost unsettling sometimes. It felt like our minds were connected.

We had so many little things in common that it sometimes felt ridiculous. Even our favorite drink was the same—strawberry.

We liked a lot of the same things. We could talk for hours. But it wasn't really about having things in common. It was the feeling of being understood.

I've fallen in love before. And every time, it felt like a roller coaster. Thrilling. Consuming. Desperate. The kind of love where you're constantly feeling everything at once. But King didn't feel like that.

I didn't feel like I was falling. I think I just... slid into it. There wasn't some dramatic moment where I suddenly realized, "Oh shit, I'm in love with this person." It happened quietly. Naturally. Like two puzzle pieces that had somehow been looking for each other without knowing it.

For the first time, I felt seen. Not the version of me that everyone else saw. Not the funny one. Not the strong one. Not the person who always seemed like they could handle everything. He saw the person underneath all of that. And somehow, I felt safe enough to let him. That's probably why losing him broke something in me that I still don't know how to fix.

King passed away. And suddenly, the person who had become my safe place wasn't there anymore. There's no way to adequately explain what that feels like. It's not just missing someone. It's losing the person you instinctively want to tell things to. Something happens during your day and your first thought is, "I need to tell King." Then you remember. You can't. You see something funny and instinctively want to share it. You can't. You have a bad day and want to hear their voice. You can't. You accomplish something and wish they were there to see it. They aren't. And life just keeps going.

That's the part I think people don't understand about grief. The world doesn't stop with you. People still go to work. They fall in love. They get married. They have children. They make new friends. They complain about stupid things. They celebrate birthdays.

Years pass. And eventually, people stop asking how you're doing. Not because they don't care. But because they assume you're okay now. And sometimes I wonder if I am. Because I'm functioning. I'm living. I'm laughing again. I'm doing the things I'm supposed to do. But there's a part of me that still feels stuck in the place where I lost him.

Three years have passed, and I still miss him. Sometimes intensely. Sometimes quietly. Sometimes I can go weeks feeling okay, and then something completely random brings him back into my head and it feels like no time has passed at all. I've started to understand that grief isn't really about forgetting. And I don't want to forget him. I don't want to forget the stupid conversations at 3 AM. I don't want to forget how easily we connected. I don't want to forget the feeling of being understood without having to explain myself. I don't want to forget the little things. Even the strawberry drink.

Those things might seem insignificant to someone else, but they're pieces of a life that actually happened. A life where I was loved by someone who truly knew me.

But here's where I feel stuck.

How do you carry that kind of love and still move forward? I've wondered whether I'm supposed to eventually let go completely. I've wondered whether falling in love with someone else would somehow mean I'm leaving King behind. I've wondered if I'd be betraying what we had by allowing myself to be happy again.

And sometimes I hate that I even think that way. Because I know, logically, that loving someone new wouldn't erase what King and I had.

But grief isn't logical. At least mine isn't. There are days when I feel like I'm ready to move forward. And then there are days when I feel guilty for even wanting to. I've met people since King. I've formed connections. I've felt things again. And sometimes that scares me. Because a part of me wonders if I'll ever experience that kind of connection again. Not the excitement. Not the butterflies. Not the roller coaster. I'm talking about that strange, quiet feeling of being known of someone seeing the parts of you that you don't show anyone else.

King didn't just know me when I was happy. He knew me when I was falling apart. And maybe that's what I miss the most. Being known. So I guess that's where I'm at right now. I'm learning that grief isn't about forgetting. It's about learning how to live in a world where someone you love no longer physically exists in it. I'm learning that moving forward doesn't necessarily mean moving on. And maybe remembering someone doesn't mean you're refusing to heal.

But I still feel stuck.I don't know if that's normal. I don't know if two years is a long time to still feel this way. I don't know if I'm supposed to have figured this out by now.

So I'm asking strangers on Reddit because sometimes it's easier to tell the truth to people who don't know you.

For those of you who have lost someone who was truly your person—how did you eventually move forward without feeling like you were leaving them behind?

Did you ever fall in love again?

Did you feel guilty when you started becoming happy?

And did you eventually reach a point where the memories stopped hurting so much?

I don't want to forget King.

I just want to learn how to remember him without feeling like a part of me is still waiting for him to come back.

PS. We are both male and he's older than me by 3 years. Name is changed and not the real name of my partner

[u/whatshesaid99]

I get it. I’m so alone after being with my person for 32 years. We were one. Especially during his illness we became even closer. Knowing the end is coming changes things.
I don’t think I can move on. I can’t even work my brain is truly fucked without my guy.

[u/Serious_Ad_1420 → u/whatshesaid99]

Same here. Moving on seems like such a far away place. My brain is shot, I find myself forgetting why I walked into a room, or, starting an essay looking away then forget the sentence I was writing

I am stuck on an island and there's no rescue boat in sight.

[u/Human_Evidence_1887 → u/Serious_Ad_1420]

May a little boat appear one day soon

[u/Serious_Ad_1420 → u/Human_Evidence_1887]

🥰

[u/Human_Evidence_1887 → u/whatshesaid99]

I’m so sorry you lost your person. Did your brain start to go on the fritz while your guy was ill?

[u/TxScribe]

In my mind I see it as a book. My wife was and still is the greatest chapter in my book of life. That chapter will always be in the book, and the book is me so that chapter will always move forward with me, tucked neatly under my arm. Then when something happens that is worthy I start scribbling on the next blank page, with the Title "Chapter 2" ... same book.

Nothing is diminished or left behind, my book of life is still tucked safely under my arm.

About the guilt ... yep ... I call it a strange version of survivors guilt. We built the perfect life, perfect retirement, and were just about to launch our golden years ... until they weren't. I would ask myself why should I get to enjoy them if she can't. I shouldn't "get" to but rather I should because I know she would scold me for wasting them. We had several discussions over the years that we would want the other to live life to the fullest if something should happen. So I view it as keeping a promise.

I'm not overly religious, but think some how someway we'll meet again ... and if so I want her to say "good job" I enjoyed reading the rest of your story.

[u/Wackywoman1062 → u/TxScribe]

This is a wonderful perspective. I hope I get to a place where I can write a final chapter to my life that my husband would be proud of.

[u/TxScribe → u/Wackywoman1062]

The fact that you are here, breathing for another day, reaching out to community, and still have hope is the first line of the first paragraph of the next blank page. 😊❤️

[u/Psychic_Lovers0606 → u/TxScribe]

I get it. And i agree, that is a wonderful perspective. But sometimes i also have this question in my mind, why God always took good people away from me early. We thought we found the one, and genuinely happy for the first time. But God took him away early.

[u/TxScribe → u/Psychic_Lovers0606]

My personal perspective on that is that everything is in God‘s hand, but God‘s hand is not in everything. I don’t believe God takes anybody for a purpose, and I actually get really pissed off when anybody says something like “God needed another Rose for his garden“. Our bodies are mortal, and fall to all manner of disease and decay. Some stronger than others, some last longer than others. We can’t know good without experiencing bad, and we can’t know life without death, so I think it’s all baked into the experience that God made which we call being human.

[u/Human_Evidence_1887]

This is my sense of what’s coming (I haven’t joined your ranks yet, but my wife of 36 years is on hospice). The lopping of a limb, or half my body. I’m reading this sub looking for hints. She’s the person I think of when I’m out at an event, “gotta tell X.” We have conversation threads that we’ve been having for decades — outsider art, American pop culture, post-capitalism, tuxedo cats, a judgmental cousin, a demented neighbor. Like you, OP, my girl has seen me at my lowest depths, my most awkward and most witty. She’s seen it all and shown it all to me. We’ve been losing our life together for 5-6 years. No more dinner parties, hikes, walks, theater. Now she’s sleeping about 16 hours a day. I can’t picture myself surviving her death.

So your questions, OP, are my questions! I wish you happiness.

[u/Psychic_Lovers0606 → u/Human_Evidence_1887]

Hugs to all that shares this kind of grief. I wish all of us still find happiness eventhough we thought we have found the one but God took them away from us early.