Ive just gone through my second divorce and decided relationships arent for me anymore. I didnt want anyone close, deliberately making myself as unappealing as possible to othersperhaps trying to shield myself from emotional risks. But then I met her. She left an incredible impression on me. From that evening on, we were together, and neither of us could have imagined how profoundly our lives would change.
We spent seventeen years side by side. She wasnt just my wifeshe was my best friend. Her energy, wit, strength, and sensitivity amazed me every day. She was always there, supporting me through every hardship, lifting my spirits in the darkest moments. We laughed together, dreamed of the future, and built little traditions that became part of our lives.
When the doctors diagnosed her with cancer, we knew it would be a tough fight. She battled it for eighteen monthsbravely, unbroken. But the disease was too aggressive. Nearly three months ago, we lost her. The wound is still fresh, carried in my heart every day.
What keeps me going is our child. Were incredibly close, and through him, I find the strength not to drown in grief. Being a father is a giftone that grounds me and keeps despair at bay. When I see his smile, his wonder at the world, his trust in me, I remember my life still has meaning.
From the moment I knew my wife wouldnt be here much longer, I tried to prepare myself for the loss. I imagined how Id manage alone, without her support. You can brace yourself for the big things, but its the small, everyday moments that remind you of their absence.
Its the simplest things, really. Every Sunday, wed watch *Antiques Roadshow* together, guessing the value of items and laughing. Now, I watch it alone on the sofa, with no one to share the jokes or debates. Every episode achessuch small moments now feel hollow without her.
Then theres bedtime. You can hug a dozen pillows, try to recreate warmth, but nothing replaces real lovethe comfort of her presence. Sometimes, the empty space beside me is a physical pain.
But I keep living. I find joy in little thingsour childs laughter, our quiet walks through London, the small rituals Ive started to feel her near. I hold onto our life together, our lovereal and enduringthat still gives me strength to move forward.
Being a father means everything now. His smile, his hugs, his daily discoveries keep me strong, even when my heart hurts. Ive learned to cherish each day, knowing loss can come at any moment.
I never thought Id survive this. But love for our child, memories of my wife, our familys storythey make me stronger. Life doesnt end with the ones we lose. It continues in what we pass onhow we love, care, and remember.
Even in the darkest thoughts, I find strength. Because our love hasnt vanishedits just changed shape. Its in our child, in everyday moments, in memories, in the music of a heart that still remembers. And thats what gives me hopeto keep living, holding onto what was real.
