It has been six months since Alan died. I’m wondering when do I get to be happy again? When does life regain its color and meaning? I’m doing the little things and checking things off my do-do list every day, which has its degree of satisfaction. Sometimes I even do something fun. But even the fun activities don’t mean the same to me anymore. I can’t share them with Alan. I take him with me in my heart but it’s not the same. It still hurts terribly that I can’t share the fun times with him.
All of life looks different to me. The coming of spring doesn’t have the joy it used to. All is hollow, black and white. Memories are everywhere I look, and they bring such pain. Does the loss of a single person turn life from one of meaning and joy to one of emptiness?
I am tired of hurting and I want this grieving thing to be over. If I have to live the rest of my life without Alan, I want it to somehow be meaningful and joyful, but I don’t know how to do that with my reason for living gone. What do I do now?
I want a magic prescription pad so I can get the magical pill that makes all this pain go away. I want someone to tell me that if I do X, Y and Z, in a certain known amount of time, I will feel normal. I want all of this to go away. I keep searching for the answer, and I’m not finding it. The only answer I’m getting is the same thing: time will pass and it will get better. But I’m tired of time passing and it’s NOT better.
So I keep waiting, because that’s all I can do. I check things off my to-do list, I take some time to do something fun every now and then, and call it a life. And wait.