I have been dragging myself to take this big leap, not because I hate writing, (oh goodness I can do it for a lifetime and a day!), but because I was too scared to dig deep into my pile of memories. But here I am, paddling my way back into shore using only words.
I’ve been widowed at the age of 30. I’ve been married for seven beautiful years. Now do the math. No, I didn’t marry at 25. I married at 23 on the 25th of March. He died on the 25th of October. When life tosses it’s dice and you unluckily lose, there are no second chances. The whole world as you know it changes. And so my journey began.
My bestfriend died. There is no rebound box for sorrow and grief. What now I can’t say out loud, I want to write it. I want my kids to know how everything all felt. I know it is never going to be easy. My whole world had changed. I was truly the happier than the happiest woman on earth on the 25th. And that fateful 25th crushed all I’ve dreamed of. That dreadful 25th.