I’m facing something I had hoped I’d never have to face. My husband lost his battle with cancer and passed away on 21st February. We were given the diagnosis in mid December and we laid the groundwork for the inevitable, doing all the legal stuff and putting things in place, teaching me to drive around our town because my husband always did the driving, spending time together and with the children. You think you’re ready for it when it happens, but oh, how wrong that is. I don’t think you’re ever ready. The reality is so much more than you expect. It’s early days for me yet. I’m still very raw, my emotions close to the surface all the time. It makes me wonder how many tears a person can shed and still continue to produce them without running out.
So at the moment, it’s one day at a time. Sometimes, one minute at a time. I will get there, but it will take me time. I’m not back to writing yet, but that, too, will come once I get my head back together. In the meantime, I’m learning to start over again on my own. Strangely enough, cooking has been one of my downfalls. Without even thinking about it, I’m still cooking for two. After almost 39 years together, it’s a difficult habit to break. Hmm, maybe it’s time to get in some frozen meals and just zap them in the microwave.