Ever since my wife was diagnosed with lung cancer back in 2018, I’ve carried a permanent sadness deep inside of me. In the beginning, when we were fighting the cancer, I buried the sadness with action. I researched medications, scoured lung cancer forums for glimmers of hope and studied PubMed articles for facts about treatments, survival rates and statistics.
When she died, the sadness overwhelmed me. I’ve written about this before so I won’t do it again here.
It’s been over 3 years since my wife died. The overwhelming grief I once had has subsided. I think of my wife often, but I never feel those waves of sadness that brought me to my knees that first year.
I’m happy. I’ve got a great life. Financially, physically and emotionally I’m fantastic. I’ve found peace with my place in the world.
Still, I realize that there is a piece of me that is always a little bit sad. I miss my wife. I miss what we had. I miss what might have been. I wish she was here with me today.
When I was dating, that sadness was obscured by excitement, longing and the possibility of new love. I thought it had been eradicated.
Maybe if I was in love with someone else, it would be.
Then again, maybe not.
I have a feeling that this permanent sadness is as much a part of me as my memories, my genetics and my life experiences.