laurie grad

Loss isn't contagious and those grieving loved ones shouldn't be pushed to the side.
In the six months since my husband Peter died, I have been eating out much of the time. But now things are quieting down and I seem to have more time at home in the evenings and my dinners are downright pathetic.
Since losing my husband earlier this year, I have become closer online with other widows. Old friends from my New York days and several friends in Los Angeles have been an unexpected comfort. They have known the pain, and by their example, I see a glimmer of light.
I am steeling myself against the upcoming holidays. Each milestone is a weight that I carry. I feel like Sisyphus in Greek mythology being punished and forced to roll an immense boulder up a hill only to watch it roll down for all eternity.
Grief has changed my life forever. I am not the person I was three months ago. What existed in my life before my husband Peter died has been suddenly altered. Nothing is the same, nor will it ever be so. What was important to me before is meaningless now.
My grief therapist says I should write to you. So I am writing a letter to you like a kid writes to Santa. The letter will never reach its recipient, but the writing is therapeutic. Maybe you will send me a message from the North Pole or wherever you are that you are OK?
One month ago, Peter, my husband of 47 years, died of a heart attack. When you lose a parent, you have siblings or family members to comfort you. When you lose a spouse, you lose your life partner and are alone. The hardest thing about grief is to see life going on.