The Unexpected

Chapter 1:

They say that grief is like the ocean. It comes in waves. Oh how true that really is. It is just something that never goes away. It's been about 6 months since my husband Beau passed away in a car accident when he was hit by a drunk driver while coming home from work. He left me behind with our 3 beautiful children Gavin, Henry , and Lily. The first week was by far the hardest. Lily kept asking when her daddy was coming home. Oh how she didn't understand what was going on. The boys on the other hand...they knew that their daddy was gone. The month that followed was hard as well. Learning how to be a single mother and juggling between the kids, housework, and trying to find a job. It was not how a woman my age should live. I should be living happily ever after with the love of my life and raising the little family that we created together! You never know when one day will be your last. I wish I had spent more time with Beau the week before he passed. I will forever regret that. 

People keep asking me when I'm going to move on. What they don't understand is that this isn't just something you can move on from. It isn't that easy. The hardest part about losing someone is learning to live without them. I still haven't learned that yet and I'm not sure I ever will. I keep moving forward for my children. I would be nothing if I didn't have them. They have been a big help in keeping my mind busy but I will admit sometimes it's hard to look at them because I just keep thinking about their daddy. Oh how they all look so much like him. 

Since the accident I've been seeing a therapist. My family doctor thought it would be a good idea for me to meet with the therapist once a week. It has helped me tremendously. She ended up diagnosing me with depression. After all I have been through that doesn't come as a surprise. I keep myself locked up in the house and I hardly ever leave or interact with anyone else. This is the one place where I can still feel like I have Beau with me. It's my safe haven. 

Even though it's been 6 months since he passed I still haven't packed up his clothes or anything of his. Everything is still like it was when he left the house for the last time. I can't bring myself to touch any of his things. It's too painful. I keep hoping I would see him walk through that door even though I know I will never get to experience that again. 

I still have all of our photos hanging on the wall. I find myself staring at them often. I wonder sometimes how things would be if he were still here. As long as I'm living I will keep his memory alive. For me and for our children. I miss him so bad most days that I can't stand it. I long for his hugs, kisses, cuddles, and smiles. I long for someone to hold me when I'm sad, to wipe away my tears, and for someone to tell me that eventually everything will be alright. How does someone ever truly get through this?