loss of a spouse

Now that Peter has died, I have lost my appetite. I have lost the zest for soul food -- food that brings us emotional connections. Part of my grief is losing that connection that we had over our joy of eating. My new normal seems indigestible in so many ways.
I know for the sake of my family and friends I must find a life without Peter. I must find a safe haven through my mourning process. Mourning is the driving force that makes the journey of grief move forward.
The sadness is profound, the hole in my heart is still cavernous, but the good news is that my heart keeps on beating.
After the recent election, many in our country are experiencing deep grief. They are discovering that they must learn to understand grief and accept its power, in order to move forward. The word grievous is derived from the word grief meaning sadness.
After Peter died, with the help of Amazon Prime, I immersed myself in reading book after book about grief. Books about grief can be valuable tools that provide validation for those experiencing a loss.
My path to restoration is paved with family, friendships, and the healing power of my grief group. In the safety of my group space, we get each other's pain on a level that is forged by our devastating loss.
A few months after Peter died, I attended an open meditation class in a large auditorium which proved to be a complete disaster. I wrote about it in a blog which described my abysmal foray into the world of meditation, complete with sobbing, used wet tissues, and puffy red eyes.
When Peter died, the only thing that kept me sane was writing about grief. Blogging about grief morphed into my new vocation. I recognized that by spewing out my emotions with honesty, I was helping others which meant it was work that made me satisfied.
As I go through the process of grief, I know that I have to recalibrate my reality. I have to find a new attitude to get me through this demanding journey. I have to take charge of my grief and become a survivor, not a victim.