It’s been seven months since Peter died. I will never stop missing him.
But I’ve stopped feeling sad every day at dinner time. And some mornings I don’t reach over to the empty side of the bed when I wake up.
In the past week, I’ve had two visitors who hadn’t seen me in six months. They both said I looked much better than the last time they were here. (Of course, they hadn’t told me how awful I looked in the first place.)
I will be forever grateful for my years with Peter, but there are still people to see, places to go, and a life to live.
I’ve turned a corner.