Relearning Happiness

I’ve lost my sense of time since becoming a widow.
Everything feels foggy when I try to look back.

It will be a year on September 3rd.
It still doesn’t feel real.

But here I am, on the brink of a new beginning,
rebuilding my life.
Reflecting gently on how I’ve coped,
and looking ahead to what’s to come.

Grief has become the shadow that walks beside me,
and I’m learning how to feel happiness again,
even as grief stays near.

It’s a slow, strange dance.
It dips me into flashbacks engraved in my heart.
I’ve become captive to the memories
and even more so when I realized some were starting to fade.
I haven’t heard his laugh in so long.

The life I had before…
before he took my hand and rested it on his cheek that night.
I’ll never forget the way he looked at me.
That feeling of pure love in his eyes.
He didn’t need words—I already knew what was coming.

So what have I been doing since that day?
Honestly, it’s all a blur.

But I know this: I’ve been trying my best.
Trying to relearn happiness.

I fell into a dark place.
I avoided family, friends, and all the places we used to go.
I struggled to resurface.
I put on a brave front for my child,
but when I was alone, I surrendered to grief.

It hasn’t become easier with time.
But I’ve become used to it.

I’ll never be the same person I was before.
And I grieve that version of myself, too.

Maybe I hold on the tightest
when it’s time to let go.

I’ve learned the hard way:
you can’t push grief away,
sleep it away, smoke it away,
drink it away, work it away, or date it away.

It still moves with me.

So day by day, I’m learning how to move with it.
To walk beside it without letting it consume me.

To heal, until my scars become art.

This journey has given me a new perspective—
a deeper awareness of how quickly life can change.

Now, I choose to find joy in the simple pleasures.
I choose to be gentle with myself,
even as grief sways me.

And as new beginnings unfold, I can’t deny: they’re triggering.

Looking for a new home without you stings.
But making steps toward a new life is also exciting.

Rebuilding my career—without you,
without the life we built together—brings anger.
But I remind myself: this is an opportunity.

Each day is new.
I will keep relearning happiness,
and I remain hopeful for what’s to come.

I’ve spent what feels like a long time in the dark,
never really believing it would end.

But I’ve gone from only seeing the glass half-empty
to realizing it’s also half-full.

You’d be proud.
I’m finding my light again.

And I miss you.