I lost my husband a year ago. He died just 12 hours after a complicated surgery. Most of the people around us expected this outcome. Not me. Not even when the surgeon, after the operation, called me with a grave voice. "Everything that could go wrong, went wrong."
The backbone of my existence in all these following months, was the therapeutic process that Erik accompanied me on. He helped me stay present and not run from what I was feeling. What I still feel. And I know my avoidant tendencies. Our meetings were the only safe space where I was able to cry. Where I unloaded all the guilt, the fear, self-doubt, the anger. I'm not a religious person, there was no other process for me. I learned to trust myself more, to accept that there is no recipe for how to feel, or behave, or react when you lose someone that you feel was part of our own being. It was grief, combined with the anxiety of finding my own way after years of putting myself lower on the list of priorities.
It's so hard. And yet, I'm one of the lucky ones. My husband said goodbye that morning, when I took him to the hospital for the surgery. He said he loved me to the best of his ability. He also left a goodbye note to our two years old daughter. So, the most important words have been said. I think that eased my pain greatly.