Selena Robins, Author

It’s been six years since I last heard my husband’s infectious laugh, was the recipient of his dazzling smile, and inhaled the scent of his cologne. Six years since our last walk together, stopping at the Tim Horton’s, where we’d get lost in conversation and laughter. Six years since I’d curl up on the couch next to him, each of us interrupting the other as he watched his favourite documentaries and I read my books.

The absence of his warmth is still a painful ache, but the pain has changed shape over time.

In the past six years, I’ve developed my own self-care strategy, notes to remind myself to breathe, rest, and keep going and embrace what I’m feeling.

You know that clichéd saying, “Time heals all wounds?”

Whoever coined that clearly never had to navigate the emotional minefield at the site of their late husband’s favourite ice cream at the grocery store.

I’m sure Ben & Jerry’s has a new ‘Uncontrollable Sobbing’ flavour that I’m single-handedly keeping in business.” But, I now have the perfect alibi for unsuspecting shoppers who witness this emotional lapse. “These prices! It’s enough to bring us to tears, eh?”

Six years later, and I still hear this other gem from well-meaning but the misguided grief police, “It’s time you move on.” If only it were that simple.

There are no instructional booklets or computer apps for grief. Widowhood is a highly personal journey with no timeline.

Fortunately, as the years have passed, I’ve built up my “grief muscles” and learned to carry the weight of my loss with resilience and more grace.

I’ve learned that while time doesn’t heal the heartache, it does allow the grief to evolve.

The milestones and missed moments that my husband is missing out on, still do sting. On the most challenging days, I show myself extra love and compassion.

I also tap into my treasure trove of memories that transport my mind back into his arms through our shared love.

I’ve also learned some handy new skills – assembling bookshelves (non-IKEA, thank you very much) and fixing dryer seals (thanks, YouTube). I may have cursed like a sailor and gone through a few Band-Aids, but I’m proud to say that the bookshelf is as sturdy as an oak tree.

Besides adding my new handy-woman skills to my repertoire, I’m also sailing new waters, as I was hired to design a romance writing course for Algonquin College, and I’ll be teaching the course in the fall for four semesters.

I know my husband would be beaming with pride, and that knowledge has motivated and inspired me to keep learning new things and taking on new adventures in honour of my beloved David’s memory, and the support he’s always shown for anything new I tackled.

If you are beginning this new life of widowhood or have been living it for a couple of years now, please know that although your grief may never entirely go away, you WILL find ways to carry it and allow it to co-exist with joy and growth, and you will find ways to honour your beloved through your own achievements.

In your darkest moments, flash that wry smile to show even the grief police that you’re still spirited.

Keep walking your path at your own pace. This journey is long, but you’ve got this.

While I still miss David deeply, and the heartache still lingers after six years, I’ve come to accept that grief is a life companion rather than a visitor.

Honouring David’s memory through pursuing our shared passions and embracing new challenges helps keep our connection alive.

I like to think that wherever David is now hanging out, he’s still right beside me, hand in hand, for every step of this incredible journey called life.

I am grateful for the life we shared, for my precious memories of our time together, and for the love we had.

I’m grateful for my family and friends who have comforted me in my sadness and celebrated life with me in the happier moments.

I’m also grateful for the personal growth that has come from walking this road of loss.

Though the pain of absence remains, I have become stronger and learned deep lessons about cherishing each day.

Most of all, I feel grateful knowing that my husband’s spirit lives on in my heart and in the life we created together.