Holding On and Moving On

It's been 208 days since Tony took his last breath. Not a lot of time in the grand scheme of things, but it has felt like a lifetime to me.

I was already on a slow journey of self-discovery. His death catapulted my slow awakening into a crash course of survival and surrender.

In these 208 days, I've learned so much about myself. I've learned more than I ever could have imagined about our spiritual reality and how to connect with God and the universe.

I now know that hell isn't some fiery destination. It is a level of consciousness that is so raw and dark. A place where you live in void of hope, light, or faith. I lost myself, my place in this world and I lost my connection to everyone that I loved and everything I was expected to do. I sat with my soul screaming continually due a pain that is so completely indescribable. I literally felt myself being ripped apart, bones and tissue tearing and shredding, because that's the only way I could be separated from him.

One night after hours of gut wrenching crying, I did manage to fall asleep and I found myself in a dark pit. I saw a tiny light come into view. It continued to grow and then I saw a hand reach down for me to pull me out. It was Tony's hand. He saved me.

I've had so many validations of him being with me and supporting me. His presence is undeniable in my life still today. So I've learned to accept that transformation. His energy remains close even though the physical no longer exists. He's with me. Full of his love. Full of his own brand of tenacity pushing me to get on with my life.

So here I am... trying to learn how to move forward without letting him go.

God has shown me what my purpose is and I do have a lot of work yet to do here. There is life yet to be lived and love yet to be shared. I can walk into that more confidently knowing that Tony lives in me. He will be a part of me for the rest of my days here. If another man should choose to love me, he will love me, in part, because of who Tony pushed me to be - in life and in death.

I know that Tony wants me to be happy and have the things that he can't give me now. I'm starting to think that it's possible. I'm starting to feel the excitement of sharing this new me with someone who can appreciate it and wants to enjoy what's left of this life with me. Someone who can accept that there is a space in my soul that will forever be Tony's and only Tony's, but that someone can also see the depth of who I am and how much I still have to give.

So I smile,

take a deep breath,

muster all my faith,

and ask the universe to show me how good it can get.