A common sentiment throughout this whole experience is how strong I have been. I don't feel strong, I feel quite weak, so when others say I'm strong, I wonder what in the world they're basing that on. After the funeral, my brother told me how proud he was of how strong I was during everything. One of my sons mentioned that I was going an impressive 100 miles an hour. When I returned to work, I was told I was strong, I'd get through it and be okay. I'm here to tell you, strength is finite. I may look strong,…

Each day, when I wake up, there's a temporary fog before my head clears. And then I open my eyes. The room is bright, the linens are white, there's much less furniture than there should be. And then I remember. I turn my head to look beside me, knowing what I won't see. I close my eyes, hating this life, wondering how I'll get through this day, and wishing I was still asleep, where grief does not live.

In the beginning, I had a very tough time sleeping. I didn't sleep at night, I didn't sleep in a bed, sometimes I didn't sleep at all. I was incredibly afraid of having nightmares; the scene from the night he died replayed in my head every time I closed my eyes. It was hard enough going through it the first time, I didn't want an endless replay every single night. For the first few weeks, I slept in a recliner in the living room. It wasn't comfortable at all, but I couldn't bring myself to sleep in our bed... the…

One of the things that folks do is encourage the grieving to get out, try new things. I felt so horrible those first few weeks that I thought that would pull me out of some of the pain I was in. It didn't. I flew to visit friends about a month after Dwight passed, but the trip there and back was quite painful. Late flights, cancelled flights and watching couples in all the airports put me into tears more often than not. The little frustrations of traveling were magnified and there were quite a few times that I pulled my…