It happens in an instant. One moment they are there, and then the next moment, they are not. Then EVERYTHING changes.
Your identity as a wife.
As a parent.
As a caregiver.
As a human that was bonded forever to another human.
You get a label that you never EVER wanted. Widow.
Then, you begin to see things differently.
You see how insignificant some of the worries that you have always carried are.
You begin to hold on tighter to the things and people that matter most, and let go of the things and people that don't matter.
You are quicker to temper and slower to love.
You realize that there is only one you, so you better take care of yourself.
You wonder how your world, your kids' world, the world in general would be different if he was still in it.
You see how death has changed not just you, but the people around you. How they look at you, talk to you, care for you, and support (or don't support) you.
You get pangs of guilt when you begin to enjoy something alone that you always did together.
You cry shopping for groceries because a wave of grief hits you when you pick up a box of his favorite cereal.
You laugh when you drive past a street corner where he told you a funny joke as you were driving.
Then, your life starts to move forward.
You get a new job, or a new house, or a new love.
You make new friends.
You begin to see who truly deserves to be in your life, and who does not.
You stop counting the years, months, days, hours, minutes, and seconds since he has been gone.
You celebrate birthdays and anniversaries instead of mourning them.
You stop being angry and start being compassionate.
You start doing things that you have always wanted to do.
You begin to make changes in the world.
Now YOU change everything.
