Grieving is hard enough when you just have to do it once. Having to do it again is torture. Everyone fully expected my man to die after the crash. Technically he did die, but they rescusitated him. I was a complete wreck for weeks. Then he started to emerge. He woke up. He started talking. He started waking. He came back. But it’s different. Everything is different. I’m slowly accepting the fact that he will never be the same man he was when I fell in love with him. And our life will never be what it was supposed to be. I’m slowly realizing that I have to let him go.
And now I have to grieve all over again.