Five Months. What I Would Tell Her

If you asked me what I would tell the girl who felt her world, future, life crumble 5 months ago, I would say this:

Grief is far more of a bitch than you even know. Those who don’t know it are lucky, but more may know than you realize.

This life without Jason will be far worse than anything you could’ve imagined, but you have no other choice than to get up every damn day and do it.

You will miss him in every thing you do.

There are moments you won’t even realize you could’ve possibly missed him in, until you’re living them, missing him like hell.

You’re never going to move on, only forward.

Even the thought of moving forward feels cruel. At 5 months in, you still won’t be ready. I don’t think you will ever be ready, but one day, my hope for you is that it feels better than it does today.

The world is afraid of grief and death, but f*ck that, be bold enough to tell your story anyways.

No one should tell you your recollections, thoughts, feelings of losing your husband are wrong.

Sharing your story will bring you across many other young widows, and it will make you feel less alone. They will empower you.

This will open your eyes to how cruel the world can really be, and how many other people are simply trying to survive. I hope that when you realize that, you use it for good.

You will never be the same.

What you enjoyed and brought you happiness before losing Jason, may no longer serve you. That’s ok.

If anyone expects you to be the same person you were before this, they don’t understand and that isn’t your burden to carry.

The people who didn’t show up for you and Jason before, won’t show up for you now. Let them go.

Good and bad, people will show who they are, let them.

People move on, far faster than you want them to, remember the real ones.

Toxic positivity is real. Don’t let it convince you there is anything positive in this, there isn’t.

The world can’t talk about death, it makes them uncomfortable. Share anyways.

You are going to try and not be ready.

One moment you will be dressed up to go out, the next you will be on the bathroom floor sobbing hysterically. Let the tears come. Release it.

The world tells us not to cry, not to be sad, to find positive even in the unthinkable. f*ck that.

You will have a good day and as it comes an end it’ll feel so unbelievably cruel, because the one person you want to share it with, is gone. That in itself will derail it all.

One of the worst damn things that can happen to someone happened to you, you will never be the same. But how could you be? Jason changed your life, your world, how could losing him not re-write your entire story?

Every single thing in your life that you knew to be true will be different. All of it. Even things you haven’t faced yet.

Two years ago you didn’t even know Jason had cancer, you were newly engaged and planning your entire lives together.

One year ago you thought immunotherapy was going to save his life, and you kept planning that future. Not once did the statistics, the doctors, tell you he wouldn’t be here this year. Until two weeks before he died and everything rapidly changed.

You’ve lived a combination of tragic unexpected loss and the trauma of evil cancer.

Life will never be the same.

There is no positive in the pain.

But despite it all, you will keep going, simply because it is your only choice.

One day, I hope you will let the world start to show even a glimpse of gentleness again. I hope if you let it, it will be kind back.