I found out that my love was gone right around this time exactly one week ago. It feels like it has just been one really long, tumultuous, scary, overwhelming, awful day. I cannot believe it has actually been a full week.
There is a part of me saying to myself that if I can survive the loss of the love of my life, I can survive anything. Many moments throughout the last seven days, I have searched for the will to go on. I’ve tried to reflect on what fills me with purpose and pride.
I have not yet openly shared the details of Diana‘s suicide note (other than with a few intimate friends), but it was clear what she wanted for me. Just as I’m trying to honor the direct asks of her last will/testament, honoring what is in that letter to me also feels like somewhat of a mandate.
I haven’t eaten today and still haven’t slept much, but I am still in this. For anyone who may be worried, I haven’t checked out. A few weeks ago she said to me “I’m not making the hard decisions right now” (referring to what option to pursue, of which suicide was always a potential option on the table for her).
Neither am I baby, neither am I. Taking it one moment at a time. I miss you with my whole being.