The Hardest Questions I Still Ask Myself After Loss
Grief doesn’t follow a schedule.
It doesn’t end after a year.
Or two.
Or five.
It lingers…sometimes in silence, sometimes in tears, and often in questions that still echo when the world is quiet.
Even now, I find myself asking the same ones.
Not because I expect an answer…but because they still live in me.
Why Did It Have To Be Him?
He was the kind of man who loved deeply.
He gave endlessly.
He fathered beautifully.
Why him?
Why so young?
Why us?
This question haunts the quiet moments…like what was the damn lesson in my babies being fatherless at such a young age?
But I’ve learned to let it sit beside me—without demanding answers.
Modern Loss has helped me understand that some grief questions will never have neat endings, and that’s okay. We don’t need answers to keep moving forward.
Could I Have Done More?
I was his wife. His caregiver. His advocate. His everything.
Still, I replay the moments.
The symptoms. The treatments. The conversations.
Could I have caught it sooner?
Pushed harder?
Loved louder?
This is one of grief’s cruelest lies—the illusion of control.
I try remind myself:
We did the best we could.
With what we had.
In the time we were given.
Will My Kids Remember Him?
This one cuts the deepest.
Will they remember his voice?
His laugh?
The way he carried them on his shoulders?
I watch them grow and I wonder what parts of him they’ll carry forward.
So I do what I can, I tell the stories.
We watch the videos.
I share the memories.
I remind them that he loved them with every breath he had.
Because I never want him to fade.
Not from me.
And not from them.
Why Do I Feel Guilty For Living?
Joy came back in fragments.
A smile.
A sunset.
A laugh I didn’t expect.
And with it, guilt.
Guilt for laughing.
Guilt for healing.
Guilt for having the chance to do all the things he no longer can.
Option B helped me understand that joy after loss isn’t betrayal, it’s resilience. And we’re allowed to carry both.
He would want me to live.
Not in his shadow, but with his light.
Will I Ever Stop Missing Him?
No.
I’ve stopped expecting to.
Grief isn’t something you “get over”.
It’s something you learn to carry, like an old scar.
I miss him in the ordinary moments.
In the way the kids look.
In the way the house feels.
In the songs he loved.
But missing him isn’t the same as staying stuck. I’m learning to live with the ache, not against it.
What I Know Now
Grief gives you questions that may never have answers.
And healing isn’t about silencing them.
It’s about giving them space and choosing to live anyway.
I don’t need to understand everything to move forward.
I just need to honor what was…and trust what’s becoming.
To Anyone Still Asking “Why?”
You don’t need to have it all figured out.
You just need to keep showing up…
For yourself.
For your healing.
For the love that still lives in you.
Let the questions exist.
Let the joy return.
Let the story continue—because you’re still here.
And that alone is a miracle.
If you’re carrying questions that grief can’t answer, I’m walking that path too.
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La 💙
