Six months have passed and I still have no idea how to do this thing called grief.   The professionals advise leaning into the pain, giving significance to this great loss, sharing the hard journey, but to whom?  I want to keep Rob's life in front of the world, but when do I pack him up and keep him to myself? The audience dwindles as it should. Life goes on for those who have been badly bruised by his loss, but how am I to live when a huge part of me died on that early December morning? Those who have lost a spouse get it;  those who have not, don't. I don't fault them and sincerely hope they never have to understand such loss. 
I loathe being pitied or the center of attention. I just want Rob's life to be celebrated. Maybe, if I keep him alive in our thoughts, the blow of death won't crush the spirit so fiercely?  I hate not hearing his name; how does someone live and give so well for six decades suddenly fail to exist? On the other hand, I worry that I worship his absence more than my God who is always present.  So many questions!  
I've noticed that after a while, those who have lost a spouse rarely speak freely about their mates.  I don't get it; it actually frightens me. Will I grow silent?
Will I put "Rob" in a box and place him on a shelf? Perhaps, they surrendered when the interest grew cold.  I want to scream, "You don't have to. I want to hear! I don't care how long it has been, they are still alive in you." They are, aren't they?
I have no answers to tie this post with an obligatory neat bow. All I know is half a year has passed and I'm still wandering in the maze.