Losing someone is not just an event. It does not happen just once. It happens repeatedly. You lose the person every time you see a vehicle that looks like his or worse, sitting inside the vehicle itself, imagining him driving. It can also happen when his favorite TV show accidentally pops on the screen. You also lose the person when you are reminded of the voice, the smell, and the touch. You will always have those heartbreaks and breakdowns, prompts, and tears, and when you are done crying, the emptiness inside takes over and grows again. I wanted to avoid these triggers, but it hurts me more because I long for tangible things to be seen and touched. The silence is deafening; the pain, suffering, and loneliness of living without him are unbearable. I am very desperate to hold and see him again.
Getting Better
The grieving process is a cycle. I know it gets better with time. Getting better does not mean I am moving on from the crippling effect of grief; instead, I am learning to live and get accustomed to that pain of longing and emptiness and as it is already becoming part of me. It is a fact of life. Sooner or later, we will all leave this world. It is only a matter of time. We all have our timelines. I know that my husband did not want to depart and leave and see us here broken, but it was not up to him to decide. I have to acknowledge that God did not take him from us but He is getting back what He owned in the first place. 
The Bible is full of verses about this, and my husband uses a lot of this in his preaching. My time with my husband is just borrowed, and I have no right to claim him as mine; he is not mine to keep and assume that I will never lose him. The painful part is total and genuine acceptance of this reality.
Roller Coaster Ride
My healing journey is not yet over. I am in my 6th month. It is still a roller coaster ride, and I am still surviving. I am still in the middle of the storm, the winds tossing to and fro. I still have those negative feelings of envy and jealousy (to those who have easily moved forward with their loss), denial of the loss, anger, loneliness, rejection and abandonment, confusion, helplessness, anxiety, disappointment, inadequacy, and vindictiveness. I am still caged in this storm, and I am getting used to the different surge of emotions. This journey is not just a journey of healing but hope and faith.
I was used to being comfortable with everything with my husband, who completed me; there was always this him and me since we got married; thus, he became part of me. It was a relationship, a sealed bond between two people in love, and God was a witness, in fact, very much part of this relationship. I know how my husband prayed for my spiritual growth and maturity.
Uncertainty
My faith was never tested this hard until his passing. I am left with uncertainty. I am in this uncomfortable stage where my old, confident self is gone (although I appear to be one). I need to trust God fully. I must admit that there were many times that I gave up believing that this agony would never end. I wished for this life to stop to put me out of this misery. I must allow God to lead me. To re-learn to do things with Him in control. I pray that I will be able to let go of the negativities that impede my healing, especially my anxieties as the Lord carries me through. I know I will heal just like a broken leg, I will be able to walk again, but I have to bear with the limping. It is still a long journey because the love is so deep. But I have to hold on to receive healing, spiritual strength, a sense of fullness, peace, and a renewed sense of purpose.
Forever Grateful
I am continuously grateful to the people who are still with us on this journey. Special thanks to our church family, who have shown so much love and support from day one until today. My family including my husband, (if he is here would be very happy because he always told us to stay close to you if we are in the city because he knew how much you care). Thank you for ministering to us and for taking and bringing us into your fold once again. Please be patient with our children and me as we start anew. Please do not rush us out into this grieving process so quickly that we might be overwhelmed.