Susan Rardon
Rose, Ph.D.
Grief is a peculiar companion. It nestles into the corners of your life, wrapping around every memory, every routine, and every moment of joy or sadness. When I say, "I miss my old life, the one with you in it," I am not merely speaking about a person who is no longer here. I am speaking about the entire tapestry of existence that was woven with your presence, a life that feels incomplete and foreign without you.
Our old life was a symphony of shared experiences and mutual care. The simple routines of everyday living held profound significance because they were shared with you. Waking up each morning to the sound of your voice, sharing a cup of coffee while discussing our plans for the day, and the comfort of knowing that no matter what the world threw at us, we faced it together.
I have learned that it's the everyday moments, which seem mundane at the time, that are the true building blocks of our life. It's not the grand vacations or the over the top celebrations. It's shopping (with someone to hold you packages and offer advice), weekend mowing and gardening, watching our favorite shows, and even the quiet moments of just sitting together. These were the threads that wove our lives into a beautiful tapestry of love and companionship. I miss the laughter, the shared jokes, the knowing glances, and the comfort of your presence.
In the last five years of your life, my role as your caregiver gave my life extended purpose and even deepened our relationship. It was a role I tried to embrace with love and dedication, despite the challenges it brought.
You used to say, "You have to stay healthy, because someone has to take care of us." Those words were a testament to our partnership, to the mutual care that defined our relationship. We took care of each other in every way imaginable. Losing you meant losing a significant part of my identity. The transition from wife and all the titles that came with that to someone who must now only take care of themselves has been jarring and disorienting. I miss the purpose that came with being your wife.
The shock of losing you has not faded, even after 44 months. The world continues to move forward, but I often feel stuck in a moment that I can't escape. The loss is not just of a person but of an entire life—a life filled with shared dreams, plans for the future, and the comfort of knowing we would face whatever came our way together.
I often find myself thinking about the plans we had, the future we envisioned. We talked about growing old together, traveling to new places, and watching our grandchildren grow. Those dreams now feel like fragments of a past life that I can no longer touch. The future we planned has been replaced by an uncertain reality that I must navigate alone.
Living without you feels like living with a piece of my heart missing. Every day is a reminder of your absence, and the void you left behind is vast and profound. The activities and routines that once brought joy now feel hollow. Holidays, anniversaries, and even ordinary days carry a weight of sadness because they were all meant to be shared with you.
I miss the security of knowing you were there, the joy of our shared experiences, and the comfort of your presence. Life feels incomplete without you. The world moves on, but a part of me is frozen in the moment I lost you. It’s like watching a movie where the main character has disappeared, and the plot no longer makes sense.
Writing has become a way for me to process these overwhelming emotions. Putting my thoughts into words helps me make sense of the chaos inside. It’s a way to keep your memory alive and to share the impact you had on my life. Through writing, I can reach out to others who might be experiencing similar feelings and offer a sense of connection and understanding.
Grief and gratitude coexist in my heart. I am profoundly grateful for the life we shared, the love we experienced, and the memories we created. At the same time, I am deeply saddened by your absence and the loss of our shared future. This duality is a testament to the depth of our connection. I can miss you and still be thankful for the time we had together.
I miss my old life, the one with you in it. The journey of grief is long and arduous, filled with moments of profound sadness and bittersweet memories. Yet, I carry your love with me, using it as a source of strength to move forward. While the life we shared is no longer my reality, the love we built continues to guide me. I am learning to find new purposes, to embrace the present, and to live in a way that honors the incredible bond we had.
Love and peace to all who are navigating their own journeys of grief. May we find solace in our memories and strength in our shared experiences.
I am a school counselor turned counselor educator, professor, and author helping educators and parents to build social, emotional, and academic growth in ALL kids! The school counseling blog delivers both advocacy as well as strategies to help you deliver your best school counseling program.
I'm a mother, grandmother, professor, author, and wife (I'll always be his). Until October 20, 2020, I lived with my husband, Robert (Bob) Rose, in Louisville, Ky. On that awful day of October 20,2020, my life profoundly changed, when this amazing man went on to Heaven. After Bob moved to Heaven, I embraced my love of writing as an outlet for grief. Hence, the Grief Blog is my attempt to share what I learned as a Counselor in education with what I am learning through this experience of walking this earth without him. My mission is to help those in grief move forward to see joy beyond this most painful time.
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