I’m not sure when I last didn’t feel exhausted. Physically, mentally, emotionally. On a positive note, I am functioning. It’s been hard to even imagine that “functioning” could be possible after the passing of my Mark. I don’t think I can ever accept what has happened, despite knowing it has, but I can go to work and cook for myself and even laugh again.
There are still days where grief squeezes me so tightly that I cannot breathe, but I try to focus on getting to the next minute, hour, or day in whatever way I can. In those moments it’s purely about survival (and consequently the inevitable questioning of what I am surviving for…); eventually and somehow, the minutes, hours, or day passes.
I have no goals, I have no dreams; they were buried with Mark. Someday I will figure out what I’m doing; just not yet, and it’s okay to not know right now.
I miss Mark every second of every day and desperately hope this new reality is not real. I love him with every bit of my soul and will continue to do so for the rest of time.