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This site is run by widowed people, for widowed people

Widowed Village connects peers with each other for friendship and sharing. The moderators, administrators, and others involved in running this site are not professionals.

Please don't interpret anything you read here as medical, legal, or otherwise expert advice. Don't disregard any expert's advice or take any action as a result of what you read here.

We're friends, not doctors, financial or legal professionals, and we're not "grief experts." But we are here, and we've been "there."

My best friend came over today. She hadn't heard from me in a few days and was concerned if I was still alive. The last post on my Facebook was about Howard, and how I'd missed Restaurant Week with him. I had actually been asleep for close to two days.

But, in truth, the thought hasn't been far from my mind. I'm tired. I'm tired of hearing my ex's voice in the back of my head, telling me how fat and unattractive and stupid I am. I'm tired of that same voice telling me no one cares.

And I do miss Howard. I miss him every day. I really want to think that somewhere there's a world where we aren't going to doctors every week. Where we're both well. Where he's still waiting to wake me up, Rockstar in a little cozy so my hand doesn't get cold.  Where he's made something fun for dinner, and where Disneyland is right there waiting for both of us.

I'm tired of being where the edges are harsh, the finances are frighteningly tight, and I'm here broken and alone. But I'm still here. For now. For how long? I honestly don't know.

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