We had the minutiae of daily life working well, in ways that suited us. So those details still work for me. At present my habits and routines help me feel normal.
It wasn't so in the beginning. All those little things were a source of pain because of the missing bit — him. After only six weeks it is a comfort, in a way, to know what to do. I fall back on the usual.
It seems very soon, but I find myself feeling acceptance. Not long ago I had a whole day of incredible peace — the kind I associate with being in the presence of angels. I think it was him. (He was what Doreen Virtue calls an earth angel, and what my friend L, who can see people's spiritual origins, refers to as a feathered angel.) It didn't last beyond that day, but afterwards everything had shifted.
Oh yes, I still have my grief, acutely at times — like, several times a day — and I still talk to him, both in my head and out loud, regardless of whether he's listening or not. I still have tears, and even the odd shriek. But behind all that, this shift into acceptance.
I guess everyone's journey of grief is their own, individual, but it does seem to me that it has come very soon.
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