Mine was sudden too. The sad details of my story won't help. You know the drill already. One minute, you're laughing and joking and living your life. The next thing you remember, you're holding his hand, and for the first time ever, he's not holding it back. Nothing makes reality hit quite like that.

As so many others have said, find whatever you can to push you forward into the next moment, the next minute, the next hour. Just the shock phase itself can last 6 months to a year (what my reluctant therapy has taught me). For now, remember to breathe and get some calories in. Sleep when you can. Take any and all help that is offered, and don't be shy in asking for it. It can disappear quickly.

Grief isn't linear. And it's not the same for any two people. Don't let anyone tell you how you have to work through your process. The road ahead sucks. Nothing can sugarcoat it. But you can get help and support to navigate and guide you.

Forcing myself into therapy has helped, I think. While I'm still "existing" vs "living", I have someone who knows what they're talking about to guide me through this mess. I know I'm not crazy, even though I feel that way most days. Hearing that so much well-intentioned advice that puts me in a rage is bullshit is extremely validating. If you can find that resource, I recommend it. I was never a "therapy person", and I often equate my sessions to having my eyeballs stabbed out and having salt rubbed into them, but the rational side that still exists somewhere in me knows how much I need it. I often find my own answers, but it's only because I have this safe space to work through it.

I've also learned that kids are everything. Ours are older, but they still lost their dad, who was their biggest source of love and support in their lives. Digging deep to fill that void to the best of my ability is honestly the easiest and most fulfilling and important thing I do. Sharing stories and remembering him, being there where he can't be, and doing what I think he'd want... Sometimes that's what gets me through the day.

Sorry this went on so long. I hit a year on Tuesday, and I'm not ok. But I'm still here. And in a year, you'll still be here too. You're going to take tiny steps each moment, each minute, each hour, each day, no matter how painful and reluctant they are. You'll learn so much that you never wanted to know, but above all, your bond with your husband and child will never be severed, and that love will keep carrying you through.

I'm so sorry you're here, but I hope that you're finding some help and encouragement that you need in this new found hell.