I HATE BEING A WIDOW

I hate being defined as a woman whose husband has died, leaving her alone. I hate thinking all the time about my husband who is not with me. Maybe I'm in the angry phase of grieving. Whatever. It sucks just as much as the shock and awe and disbelief phase.

I didn't feel this way in London last week. I felt free and happy. I could do anything I wanted to when I wanted to. I could sleep late, spend hours in a museum, sit at a bar and have a cocktail all by myself. I missed Steve but I didn't feel overwhelmingly lonely or sad. I felt bad for him that he was missing this experience. And then I felt grateful to him that I was having this experience.

I HATE BEING A WIDOW but here I am blogging relentlessly about what that feels like to me.