A few years ago, when my wife died suddenly from a
heart condition we didn’t know she had, each night I wrote in my journal about
what was going on with grief. I did this to keep me sane, and I did this to
force me to deal with my grief instead of hiding it away where it would fester
and grow worse. Slowly I began to notice small movements back towards life.
Evelyn was in her forties. Her death still seems wrong, and I struggle to
accept it.
Journal Entry 1
This morning Ev nudged me
awake at 5 a.m. to get up for work, and she went back to sleep. Mid-morning a
call comes at work that tells me she has suffered some physical problem, but
they don’t know what, only that she is being taken to the hospital.
* If you would like to read the rest of this post, let me know and I’ll send it to you. *
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