We lost our parents in a relatively short span of time and there was little time to recover from one death before we were faced with the next. I was very close to Rob's parents.  Because they were extremely loving people who treated me like a daughter from the time I was a teen, I grieved terribly my second set of parents. The loss was huge, but Rob and I turned to each other in our pain, drawing us even closer together.

That's what makes the loss of a spouse so different from any other loss.  The person with whom we share the deepest pain, grief, hardships is absent; we no longer have a partner to help shoulder the unthinkable questions, the intimate details of life. Rob and I faced tragic things together, but the blows seemed softer as we leaned on each other for support. Spouses bury brokenness in each other. 

Sometimes, I catch myself having a lonely, running (audible) dialogue with the furniture, the walls, or anything that doesn't talk back! It's a habit from 37 years of marriage, wanting his opinion on even the little things. I never realized how many decisions couples make together.  Rob just always knew what to do, no complicated weighing of options.  I, on the other hand, mull over every house repair, every purchase, every little detail. To whom do I turn?  I can't call up the kids and ponder! No, no, only a patient spouse lets us get away with that.

I find myself asking, God, how long must I do this? Of course, I know God never leaves my side and that He is growing me through this. Yes, I'm learning to trust Him and even, myself, but it's still hard not to hear an audible voice reassure my fears, to feel real arms hold me up, to turn to a man who has always been here.  

Tonight I confide in God,

I am sad and [so,so] tired.

    Make me strong again as you have promised.

Psalm 119:28 NCV