October. 7 Weeks.
Written 10/5/25.
October. Another Sunday comes around, but this time the month is new.
The second month without Jason is here. 7 weeks, 49 days. How can it already be 7 weeks? It feels like it was just yesterday I lost him. Yet it feels like an eternity without him. I wake up everyday and turn my body to place my hand where he should be. But he’s gone, and my mind races back to my reality. It doesn’t stop until I fall asleep. Repeat. Day after day. My body and mind are exhausted, though I’m doing a quarter of what I was doing before Jason passed. Before, I was running on adrenaline. My body now is processing two traumas, the 18 months before he passed and now everything now that he’s gone. Both hold a lot of pain in very different ways, the main difference being that when Jason was here, the world around us was still crumbling but being embraced in his arms made it all “ok”. The weird thing about grief is the world doesn’t stop moving. People return to their normal. But me, I don’t even know what normal looks like. My entire future and the life we’d plan heavily relied on the love of my life, Jason, being here. As it should when you say “yes!” To marrying someone. Being alone after making those commitments and plans is terrifying. I’m 31 years old. And I’m a widow. That in itself makes me want to scream “wtf”. I’m learning world really doesn’t give space for grief. It makes people uncomfortable. I went back to my project site this past week and ran into a consultant who came up to me all happy and goes “what’s new, Lauren!” My mind screams “well my husband died”, but I say “oh not much.” I don’t know what to say, because sometimes meeting someone’s uncomfortableness around your bad news is harder than pretending nothing is wrong. I want to always talk about Jason, I don’t stop thinking about him and how much I miss him and how empty this earth feels without him. So I’m going to keep sharing about him and my journey, both before and after losing him. Maybe it’ll help someone else. But writing about it, finding beautiful memories of ours helps me.
Jason, my handsome as hell husband, you are missed every second of every day. I love you.
