**Diary Entry**
After my second divorce, I decided relationships werent for me anymore. I didnt want anyone close, and I made sure I wasnt the least bit appealing to those around me. Maybe I was just trying to shield myself from emotional risks. 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 much our lives would change.
We spent seventeen years side by side. She wasnt just my wifeshe was my closest friend. Her energy, wit, strength, and kindness amazed me every day. She was always there, supporting me through every hardship, knowing just how to lift my spirits in the darkest moments. We laughed together, dreamt about the future, and built little traditions that became part of who we were.
When the doctors diagnosed her with cancer, we knew the fight would be hard. She battled it for eighteen monthsbravely, stubbornly, never breaking. But the disease was relentless. Three months ago, we lost her. The wound is still fresh, a weight I carry in my heart every day.
What keeps me going is our child. Were incredibly close, and its through him that I find the strength not to drown in grief. Being a father is a gift, giving me stability and pulling me back whenever despair threatens to take over. When I see his smile, his wonder at the world, his quiet trust in me, I remember my life still has meaning.
From the moment it became clear my wife wouldnt be here much longer, I tried to prepare myself for the loss. I pictured how Id manage alone, how Id cope without her support. You can brace yourself for the big thingsbut its the small, everyday moments that remind you theyre gone.
Its the simplest, almost silly things. Like how we always watched *Antiques Roadshow* together on Sundays. Wed sit on the sofa, guessing the value of each item, laughing and arguing. Now I watch it alone, and the silence beside me aches. Every time, the pain hits freshproof that even the smallest routines are hollow without her.
Or falling asleep. You can hug a dozen pillows, try to recreate the warmth, but nothing replaces the real thingher presence, the way she fit beside me. Sometimes the empty space feels like a physical wound.
But I keep going. Im learning to find joy in little thingsour sons laughter, quiet walks through London, the small rituals Ive started to feel her near. I refuse to forget our life together, the love we sharedreal and fiercethat still gives me strength.
Being a father is my purpose now, my anchor. His smile, his hugs, the way he discovers the worldthey keep me standing even when my heart feels shattered. Ive learned to find meaning in moments, to cherish each day, because loss can come without warning.
I never thought Id survive this. But my love for our boy, the memories of my wife, our familys storythey make me stronger. Life doesnt end with the person we lose. It continues in what we pass on, how we keep loving, in care and remembrance.
Even on the hardest days, I find my footing. Because our love hasnt disappearedits just changed form. Its in our child, in the quiet corners of daily life, in the music of a heart that still remembers. And thats enough to keep moving forward, holding close what truly mattered.
