Remembering My Late Husband: Holding My Head High Through Grief

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coming home

There was a night in the hospital a couple weeks or so before Bob died when we were talking, I was crying, he was rubbing my hair, holding me, and asking me what I was afraid of most.

I said I was afraid of being alone after he was gone.

He said, “You won’t be alone. My family will always be there for you.”

“I know,” I said. “But, that’s not what I mean. For twenty-one years, it’s always been you and me. And now, it’s just going to be me, and I’m scared.”

And that’s when he made me the promise I spoke about in my eulogy. He promised that he would watch over me. And he promised that I would be strong enough.

So, when you see me holding my head high, able to function in the world, it’s not through my own strength. It is because my husband is my angel, and he’s making sure I’m okay –- no matter what the world throws my way. It is because that was his wish for me and for our children –- that we hold our heads high and continue to live as a way of honoring him and his memory –- that we not die with him.

It’s been a rough couple of days, and I’m sure there will be many more rocky days in the future, but I know I’ll make it through them because I have the strength and love of a man who watches over me, friends and family who love me, and children who are wired to go on living and celebrating life.

And if it all gets to be too much, I may have to bust out that black hat. Fuck the naysayers.

Leah has been writing at califmom since 2004. She homeschools her two children and has recently become a widow -- a word she isn't quite used to, yet.

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