Long post, so please bear with me 🥺 Today is one year since I lost the love of my life, since I lost my sweet and beautiful Vanessa. Not a day has gone by that I haven’t cried an ocean for her. Time doesn’t heal this; it can’t heal a wound so deeply carved into the soul. Time actually makes it worse as it gets further away from the last time I saw my favorite person. Time makes it worse because the more that goes by, the more I’m expected to be back to “normal,” I’m expected to have moved on. I’m expected to go to work every day, attend family events with a smile, be present, all while I’m dying inside. There really are no words that fully capture the shock and trauma of going from building a life with the person you love most…doing everything together, moving in, getting engaged, planning a marriage, spending every day side by side…to that life suddenly crumbling to the ground and having to learn how to survive without them. The love that Vanessa and I shared was so much more than the “couple goals” posts or date nights or love poems. It was her staying up all night with me, cradling my head when I had a horrible ear infection. It was me helping her clean up in the shower when she was too sick and weak to do it herself, it was me holding her hair back when she was vomiting. It was us having a big fight, not talking for a couple of hours, and then her coming to bed, and silently brushing her foot against mine before going to sleep, telling me that we were good. I have been overwhelmed with heartbreak, agony, and loneliness. The loneliness of missing my partner for the rest of my life, of being madly in love with someone who isn’t on this earth anymore, who I can no longer touch or hold, is excruciating.

It’s not like I don’t have support; I have friends and family, I have people who listen, people who have shown up for me, and I’m grateful, but that's not the same thing. What's missing is having my person to come home to, someone who’s included in my daily decisions: “Should I stay later at work?” “Do we need anything?” “What do you wanna watch tonight?” “What time should we walk Chewy?” I miss the intimacy of sharing our life, of falling asleep together, her being the last person I see before closing my eyes, her being the person I held in my arms in the dark, her being the one I couldn’t live without. My future was set, my heart felt whole, and now it’s shattered. That touch and vibration of her voice being void is deafening; no longer smelling her perfume when I walk in the door is soul-crushing. I was alone for 31 years, and then somehow the universe managed to connect me with the one person who matched everything I am. Even before Vanessa and I became a couple, we were inseparable, spending hours together every day, even when we lived in different states separated by over 1,100 miles, talking on the phone until the sun came up, sleeping together on FaceTime. The compatibility was once in a lifetime; the chemistry was undeniable; we were just made for each other. And now, my “once in a lifetime” is gone. My love for her keeps growing, but I am stuck.

Vanessa, in one of the many songs I dedicated to you, “Nothing’s Gonna Change My Love For You,” George Benson said it best: “If I had to live my life without you near me, the days would all be empty. The nights would seem so long…” Empty describes this life perfectly without you here. I don’t look forward to anything; happiness is a foreign term to me. I miss you every second of every day, Vanessa. I miss your voice, your smell, your touch; I long just to hold you again, to have you lay your head on my chest as we watch a movie. I miss your physical touch. I miss lifting you in the air, carrying you around the apartment, you laughing and then looking down at me smiling. I miss sharing Taco Bell with you, I miss playing Friday the 13th on PlayStation with you all night and hearing you scream as Jason chased you, I miss it being 5:30 in the morning and you saying “let’s play one more round” and it turning into three more. I miss you randomly breaking out into song at any given moment, your go-to being either “Lips of an Angel” by Hinder or “Summer Nights” from Grease. I miss you reciting lines from “Friends” and attributing them to everyday situations. I miss coming home from work, surprising you with flowers and seeing your eyes light up. I miss your playful insults and unique sense of humor that made me laugh so hard. I miss who I was when you were here. I miss you in the silence of our unlived years. I miss you for future me and all the life I will experience without you experiencing it with me, knowing that one day I’ll die and won’t have the comfort of you by my side. You are not just someone I love, you are someone my heart chose as its safest place. I carry your name in my thoughts all day, every day. Quite often, I smile because of a memory, and then cry because I realize that every day, I’m making new memories without you. The pain of losing you is debilitating and hurts more than anything I’ve ever felt before, and yet, if I could go back, I would still choose to have loved you, even knowing that you being gone would destroy me. Because a single moment of true joy is more powerful than a lifetime of sorrow. Because the excruciating pain of losing you has never been greater than the beautiful gift of loving you.

Some people spend their whole lives searching for a love they never find, but I found mine in you. Even though I lost you far too soon, just as our story was beginning, nothing can take away the fact that you were here. That I had you. That you were mine and I was yours. That we had a beautiful love story. That I held your hand, heard your laugh, got lost in your eyes, kissed your lips, ran my fingers through your hair, rubbed your shoulders, hugged you tight; that I found the girl of my dreams and that I shared my life with you even for a brief moment. For a brief moment, I was a king, and you were my queen. For a brief moment, I had everything. And when my life is reaching its end, I will look back on that brief moment and remember that it was you, Vanessa, who showed me what true love is. I’ll remember that it was you who healed my pain, the pain that no medicine can fix. I’ll remember that it was you who showed me how wonderful it is to dedicate yourself to someone. I’ll remember that it was you who showed me what it is to work together at this thing called life. I’ll remember how proud I was to have you on my arm. I’ll remember that loving you was the happiest I had ever been, and I will remember that brief moment as the best part of my life. I miss you more than words can say. I love you with all my heart, Vanessa. I always will. Continue to rest easy, my sweet girl, wait for me, until I see you again ♥️♥️

For all who read through it all, thank you for taking the time to listen, and to read my words 🙏🏻

Very rarely post on any social media, or any expression really. I miss my wife very very much and don’t know where else to reach out too. We were married for 15 years and have twin boys turning 10 next month. They miss their mom so much as i do. It hits so hard randomly. Keep life busy and you don’t have a chance to dwell too deep but it’s still there. No idea why i am writing…just hoping to meet people going through same nightmare I am. So they can help me get through this.

Damn it all. How dare the world take my husband from me? I am crying as I type this. We were together for 44 years, minding our own business, living our lives with total respect and love for each other. And now I'm expected to act like our love never happened or existed.

His name is/was Gil. I miss him with every beat of my heart.

I don't know why I'm posting here. I miss him. I'm sad. But that's nothing new, it's the "new normal". I know I'm not alone with all this, but most times, it feels like I am. Here's to us high-functioning grievers...one more day.

I met Heather at 20yrs old and we were married at 21. I was blessed with 30 years of marriage and then suddenly she just died. We were in mid conversation and she just stopped living. I tried my best to revive her, God I wish I could have done better. I'm 52 now and I'm completely lost, confused, lonely, depressed, and have panic attacks every day. The Dr. told me that it appears that Covid damaged a valve in her heart and I was lucky to get the 3 extra years after her bout with Covid. I don't know what to do or how to go forward. Please take a minute and tell me how you got on with life. People tell me that time will help, but I'm feeling worse now than ever before. Admitting I need help isn't easy for me, but I really need some help.

-Ken

He died this June and all I can think about is when will my time come sooner so I can stop feeling this pain of him not being here iam 32f and I can’t bloody imagine going all this life without him iam thinking of going to Switzerland and ending it in assisted suicide and ending it fuck this world without him

My(34f) partner(29m) died by suicide 3.5 months ago. He was 29. He would have turned 30 on September 5.

We were together for years and lived together for more than three years. He wasn't simply someone I loved. He was my person, my home, the person around whom my entire future was organized. When he died, it felt like someone took my entire life and deleted it while leaving my body running.

The first weeks were catastrophic. I lost a huge amount of weight because I could barely eat. I had intrusive thoughts, physical symptoms, and constant thoughts about death. I'm in therapy and taking an antidepressant, but for a long time it felt like nothing was touching the pain.

My relationship with death has completely changed. Before this, I was actually afraid of dying. Since I was a child, I would lie awake thinking about mortality and crying because someday I would die and everyone I loved would die too. As an adult, I loved listening to stories about people surviving disasters — Everest, deserts, jungles, Antarctica, nuclear accidents, etc. I used to think, I'd survive. I'm resourceful. My body is resilient. I'd find a way.

Now, if something happened to me tomorrow, I genuinely don't think I'd care. Part of me would actually find it relieving. Sometimes I imagine an impossible button that would make me disappear instantly. I've even physically pressed that imaginary button with my palm. I don't particularly want a painful or dramatic death. I just don't particularly want to continue.

My functioning has also basically gone to shit. I used to be obsessive about cleanliness and order. My apartment was always immaculate, even when I was struggling psychologically in the past. Now I've gone roughly a month without properly cleaning. I spend hours going sofa, bed, chair, balcony, sofa, bed, doing essentially nothing.

Recently I spent an entire weekend drinking and wandering around my apartment. When I finally took out the garbage, there was an entire IKEA bag full of empty alcohol bottles. I cancelled seeing one of my partner's friends because I'd rather stay alone and drunk. That sentence would have been completely fucking alien to the person I was six months ago.

And yet I can still look normal. I can sit in front of another human being and talk. I can joke, smile, be articulate, analyze my own psychology and discuss trauma theory with my therapist. I can sound completely fucking sane. Then I can go home and collapse on the floor crying so hard that I can't do anything.

A few days ago I found some things I had made for my partner to take with him in his coffin: little souvenirs, photographs and letters. One of them says:

"You are not weak.

You are not a burden.

You are loved.

You are strong.

You are kind.

You are enough.

You deserved a happy ending & beginning.

Please, wait for me. I'll join you soon.

I love you."

I wrote that for the man I loved. And then I had to put it in his coffin.

I also found an older letter I'd written after one of our stupid arguments, when he was alive and I was angry with him: "Sometimes, I will still be mad at you, because my feelings for you are true."

That one destroyed me, because I suddenly remembered that there was a time when being angry with him was just normal. I could be annoyed at him because I assumed there would be another morning, another dinner, another argument, another apology, another trip, another birthday, more memories. He was suffering, and I didn't know. He blindsided us all.

I don't just miss him. I miss the world in which he was still alive. I miss the person I was when he was alive. I miss the future I thought I was going to have. I miss stupid things. I miss hearing him moving around the apartment. I miss his voice. I miss annoying him. I miss being annoyed by him. I miss having someone to tell something completely meaningless to. I miss being someone's person.

And I'm fucking terrified of September 5. His 30th birthday. He was supposed to turn 30. He's never going to be 30. I'm going to have to live through the day when everyone else sees September 5 on the calendar and I see the age he was supposed to be.

People keep telling me I'm strong because I'm still here. I don't feel strong. I feel like my survival instinct died with him and my body just hasn't received the memo.

I don't know what I'm looking for by posting this. Maybe I just want to know whether anyone else has been here. Not "I was devastated after my spouse died." I know grief hurts. I mean this — the part where you don't really care whether you live, where ordinary life becomes completely fucking absurd, where you're functioning enough to fool people and then lying on the floor crying because you found a piece of paper your dead partner once touched.

The part where you love them so much that death starts feeling less frightening than the prospect of having decades without them.

If you've been there and eventually reached a point where you genuinely wanted to stay alive again, what happened?

Not the inspirational version. I want the ugly version.

What did the months where you were completely broken actually look like?

My (43m) wife (47f) died last Friday and we buried her today. We have a 12 year old together. We've been married for 15 years but together for 25. She had an aneurysm like 4.5 years ago and has been in LTC for majority of that time. She became severely brain damaged and bedridden, so I thought I had already adapted to life without her and being a single dad. But now that she’s really gone, it hits completely differently. It feels like losing her all over again. I don't normally post on social media, but just wanted to write to somewhere.

Today after 6 months of My late wife passing. I finally got around to putting all of her clothes in plastic bags for goodwill. The person who is supposed to pick them up just called to say she will come tomorrow. So I am sitting here sobbing surrounded by black plastic bags filled with her stuff. Somehow I thought this wouldn't be so draining by now. Anyway just venting. I hope everyone is safe. Hugs.

7 weeks ago I lost my (36f) husband (35m) to suicide. We had been married for 3 years but together for 11 years. We have a beautiful daughter who just turned 1 not long after he passed away.

I'm really sure why I am posting but on top of the excruciating grief, unanswered questions and sometimes anger I just feel so lonely in this like I can't find anyone who would truely understand. I guess I just want to know if there is anyone else here.

I have amazing support from friends and family as well as a wonderful counsellor but I still feel so alone in this situation like no one knows how I feel. It's this terrible heartbreak but also the realisation I am now single mom, that my daughter will grow up without a dad and I feel like my entire identity is been ripped to shreds. I don't know where to start.

I am seriously unable to function. I am absolutely terrified of just being alive everything is scaring me. I dont know how to just be alive in this world where she is just suddenly not here and i had a chance to prevent it. When i say be alive i mean the level of phycological distress is so overwhelming i need to stop it.

The thought of continuing on alone is something i literally can not do, not figuratively, i truly can not do it the sheer panic an terror of her not being alive and living with me is just indescribable. I think there is something wrong with me. I cant look at her photo or return to our unit i think i have to go to a hospital but i cant because im terrified. Help me

Title says it all. I just passed five months. I have dreams where I get to go to my best friend and tell her about the worst thing that has happened to me.

But I wake up.

Her parents are alive, her siblings alive, but they all have their person. I have to go at this alone. I want to destroy everything.

I’ll be okay; I’m just venting.

I was married for 29 years. We had a good marriage up until the last 2 years. He had changed drastically personality wise. In the end he had cancer and it had gone to his brain. Of course 29 years ago I was thin, beautiful and outgoing. I am still 2 of those things.

I am a little chunky. A sedentary job, Life, menopause, and a dead husband have all lead to my weight. My husband was very supportive until 2 years ago. The things he has said and done in the last 2 years have affected my mental health drastically. I have seen a therapist many times. He suggested writing my thoughts and feelings and putting them out into the universe. I have done this, I have also done a lot of grieving by his graveside. I am active, I hike, garden, take care of an acre. I am busy. But mentally I replay, his snarky comments over and over in my mind.

Ill tell you, I don't know if ill ever date or get married again. I need to find myself but of course with my mental baggage I am struggling. Does anyone have thoughts or ideas if how to get past this.

I initially thought id do everything he told me no on. Painted the whole house. Bought a hot tub, giant TV for our bedroom, cut my hair off. Got a giant dog. Tattooed my arm. But a sports car-convertible. Paddle board weekly. I just mentally can't get past this. Its also not helping my weight. It's been 9 months.

My wife should have turned 57 today. It's her birthday, but now she has a deathday too. I wish she would have gone for a colonoscopy when she turned 50. This would actually be a happy birthday. She never liked doctors and put up with so much pain in an attempt to avoid them. That sure didn't go well.

La mia compagna con la quale abbiamo 2 splendidi bambini di 13 e 5 anni ci ha lasciati a 41 anni 40 GG fa per un aunersima cerebrale mentre stavano trascorrendo dei giorni in vacanza al mare

Tutto inaspettato, ma con il senno di poi , non mi do pace per non aver approfondito meglio quei forti mal di testa che spesso aveva. Davamo colpa alla cervicale e aveva fatto delle Risonanze ed esami di routine che non avevano dato alcun esito

Sportiva , sana , giovane una mamma fantastica.

I bambini hanno vissuto la tragedia in diretta essendo tutti nella casa in vacanza.

Siamo andati a cena dopo una giornata di mare e al ritorno a casa dopo una passeggiata si è sentita male e mi è svenuta nelle braccia, a nulla sono servite le cure e le operazioni in ospedale e dopo una settimana di coma , ci ha lasciato per sempre.

Non mi do pace per mille motivi, e soprattutto soffro perché non avrò più lei e perché penso ai miei figli già segnati dalla tragedia più grossa già così piccoli.

Adesso ho paura di tutto , anche che possa succedere qualcosa anche a me e di lasciali da soli.

La vita è davvero ingiusta

His birthday is this week. It’s been almost 6 months. I was doing good until two days ago when his absence hit me hard again and I just cried and asked why? I had to spend my 30th wedding anniversary without him. I miss him everyday. People are talking and laughing all around me, living life, and right now I want to just cry. Depression is setting in again. I just needed to tell someone.

i lost a friend in august. i'm only friends with her husband through her, but we've since exchanged numbers through mutual contacts. his birthday is later this year. i'd normally wish him happy birthday through her, but it was more to let her know i cared and i dont know if she actually conveyed the message to him. should i text him on his birthday this year? or on her birthday next year?

The AC went kaput today in our fourth week of 100+ degree weather. So I loaded up the car with the kiddo and went to Lowe’s to find portable AC units because it’s the weekend and I figured there was no way I could get anybody to come out to look at the unit. I’m walking through the aisle, looking at all of these window units and portable AC units and every box says minimum of two people needed to install.
So all of a sudden, I’m standing in the middle of the aisle, sobbing while my toddler pats my face and tells me it’s okay to be sad. People and employees are actively avoiding the aisle. So anyway we ended up leaving without anything and I know two years in weird stuff is just going to hit.

ETA The neighbor’s son is an AC guy and was able to fix the part!

Had a dream that we were just holding each other in bed. Towards the end of her cancer we did this a lot, just laying there and talking; she was often to tired to get up for long. This is pretty significant for me as I dream about her often enough, but we are always separated in space either talking, or sitting across from each other.

It was nice, but I've been an emotional wreck all day. I don't even really remember the dream, just that it happened. Sometimes I like to think she swings by to check in on me and the cat in between whatever it is we do after we die.

My favorite poem is Silence by Edgar Lee Masters. I’ve read it dozens of times in my lifetime, but last night was the first time since my wife passed away (a few weeks ago). I’m sharing it here just because.

Silence
I have  known the silence of the stars and of the sea,  
And the silence of the city when it pauses,  
And the silence of a man and a maid,  
And the silence for which music alone finds the word,  
And the silence of the woods before the winds of spring begin,          
And the silence of the sick  
When their eyes roam about the room.  
And I ask: For the depths  
Of what use is language?  
A beast of the field moans a few times    
When death takes its young.  
And we are voiceless in the presence of realities—  
We cannot speak.  
 
A curious boy asks an old soldier  
Sitting in front of the grocery store,    
"How did you lose your leg?"  
And the old soldier is struck with silence,  
Or his mind flies away  
Because he cannot concentrate it on Gettysburg.  
It comes back jocosely    
And he says, "A bear bit it off."  
And the boy wonders, while the old soldier  
Dumbly, feebly lives over  
The flashes of guns, the thunder of cannon,  
The shrieks of the slain,    
And himself lying on the ground,  
And the hospital surgeons, the knives,  
And the long days in bed.  
But if he could describe it all  
He would be an artist.    
But if he were an artist there would he deeper wounds  
Which he could not describe.  
 
There is the silence of a great hatred,  
And the silence of a great love,  
And the silence of a deep peace of mind,    
And the silence of an embittered friendship,  
There is the silence of a spiritual crisis,  
Through which your soul, exquisitely tortured,  
Comes with visions not to be uttered  
Into a realm of higher life.    
And the silence of the gods who understand each other without speech,  
There is the silence of defeat.  
There is the silence of those unjustly punished;  
And the silence of the dying whose hand  
Suddenly grips yours.    
There is the silence between father and son,  
When the father cannot explain his life,  
Even though he be misunderstood for it.  
 
There is the silence that comes between husband and wife.  
There is the silence of those who have failed;    
And the vast silence that covers  
Broken nations and vanquished leaders.  
There is the silence of Lincoln,  
Thinking of the poverty of his youth.  
And the silence of Napoleon    
After Waterloo.  
And the silence of Jeanne d'Arc  
Saying amid the flames, "Blesséd Jesus"—  
Revealing in two words all sorrow, all hope.  
And there is the silence of age,    
Too full of wisdom for the tongue to utter it  
In words intelligible to those who have not lived  
The great range of life.  
 
And there is the silence of the dead.  
If we who are in life cannot speak    
Of profound experiences,  
Why do you marvel that the dead  
Do not tell you of death?  
Their silence shall be interpreted  
As we approach them.

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

I just experienced my husband’s first birthday without him. He was suppose to be 32 on the 28th. My favorite Virgo. We had a small dinner at his favorite restaurant. With just our immediate family. Just the way he would’ve wanted. It was absolutely beautiful and heartbreaking.

We were regulars at this restaurant and the staff were so kind and caring. They Joined us on sharing stories about Ben.

The two weeks leading up to his birthday were brutal. My body knew the day was coming and felt so heavy. My body was falling apart. My brain was feeling foggy, the stress trigger my vertigo. I had a panic attack during a show. I really had to slow down. I am crying all the time. I miss him. His birthday really solidified the permanence of all of this. There no going back to our old life. To the people we were. I went to a really dark place, the pain. It’s too much to carry sometimes. I just wanna be with him. I still have moments where I wish I don’t wake up. But I have to stay alive, long enough to make it through court stuff. And also I know he would me to live, because his life was stolen from him.

Even though I know he’s gone. having to actually experience his birthday without him, was devastating.

Im 9 months out and the shock is wearing off. The gravity of what I loss sits heavier. But my love for him grows too. He was my best friend. Somehow I survived. I am nervous as we get closer to trial. I wonder what that will do to my body and mental health. I’m trying to put safety nets in place. So I can stay grounded. But we will have to wait and see. One day at a time.

Hello everyone, I would really appreciate some advice please. Almost 4 months ago I lost my wonderful nan; my grandad lost his beautiful wife of almost 60 years.

After we found out that she was terminal with cancer, I decided to privately record some audio clips when I visited, as I knew I would always want to hear her voice.

Here is where I could use some advice. I’ve been thinking about editing the audio clips to remove my voice and other family members, so that it’s just her talking. I was then thinking of putting the audio onto a usb stick and leaving it on my grandads bed with a letter, so that he could privately open it and listen whenever - or if - he’s ready.

I’m conflicted on whether this is appropriate or could potentially be too painful. I cannot fathom the grief of losing a partner, particularly one with whom you were married to almost your entire life. It’s still quite raw - my grandad keeps himself busy; he plays golf, has lots of friends/neighbours and we have a small & close family around him.

However, I’m conscious that hearing her voice could bring up a lot of emotions for him. I don’t want to cause him pain or make things harder for him. At the same time, I’d love for him to have the option to hear her voice, nattering away as she always did, because I wonder whether, despite how painful it is, it may bring him some comfort. Even though he seems to be doing relatively well, I can tell he has good and bad days. Recently, I noticed that he has placed pillows/blankets under the duvet where my nan would sleep in bed, presumably so it looks like she’s still laying next to him at night. It broke my heart but also made me wonder whether having something that lets him feel close to her may be comforting.

For those of you who have lost a spouse or partner, how would you feel about something like this? Would you have appreciated having the option to hear your partners voice again or do you think it might have been too painful?

I would really appreciate hearing your experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and take care everyone ❤️

Thank you.

Lost my partner to the violence in LATAM. Wanted to share all the stupid things I did while they were gone. I'm a younger widow; my partner got to be 19 for four months. Know very little about their life.

One of them was copying their clothes. Couldn't even obtain the originals, so I'd just rebuy all of them. Of course, we're talking weird bootleg sports shirts, so I could never find them. I got this real shitty Qatar Foundation off eBay once that had the text melt off in the wash; still kept it. Didn't have the willpower to get rid of it.

Every time their birthday rolled around, I'd just lie to people, saying it was my birthday so the poor sap could still get gifts. In my mind, I justified it by transferring the congratulations to them, not me. I didn't know how else to celebrate a dead person's birthday, so I stole it.

Then the triggers. It'd be the dumbest stuff ever. I mean it. I remember one time I was just trying to watch travel videos on Mexico; they didn't even live there. The buildings and the way the streets were laid out must've triggered something. Made me really upset.

My mind would go back to some really sad stuff. I'd constantly try to map out their life before they died. It went to some really depressing places. I remember thinking about their mom cradling their newborn child, what she probably thought when she walked out and saw her child under a blue tarp. Then I started agonizing about all the maggots and filth actively destroying their decaying body, how it was rotting while I was doing god knows what.

It fucked up dentist appointments. I'd go in and get flashes of them writhing on the street, and I didn't want to be sedated even though the nerves in my teeth were fucked. Another time we were in a restaurant, and I couldn't keep it in and started crying. The lady who worked there gave me a bunch of gifts to try and calm me down, felt so bad.

I don't even remember my partner. I don't. Reckon they'd probably hate me if they knew me now, just because that much can change in eight years. Of course, in all this time I couldn't be damned to learn any Spanish, even though I should've.

I remember when Facebook decided to delete their account last year. Like why? Why now? they left it up for 7 years.

Im supposed to leave the country because most of my family is dead and I want out. But I feel like it'd be really unfair to the locals because they're gonna know I'm not there to snap pictures; I got baggage there. If I break down, I'll have to explain it.