It has been forty-seven hours and thirty-two minutes since my husband died. I wonder when I will stop counting. Probably never. There is no training for widowhood. It just happens. I have little idea of what to do next. Of course, I know what practical activities I must undertake… making funeral plans cancelling insurance, etc. Also, I know what social customs I should follow these days, which fortunately do not involve tearing my hair out or wearing all black (not my color).
Nevertheless, I don’t know what to do when I am home alone with no one to care for any longer. I don’t know what to think about when I cannot think about him – his needs, his wishes, his comfort. I don’t know what is next.