I survived Christmas!

I survived my first Christmas as a widow. It has been a hectic few weeks with plenty of hurdles, but somehow I'm still standing.

The week before Christmas I flew down to Sydney to spend three nights with Dan's parents which was really nice but very emotional. 

They took me to visit his 'Sydney grave' where his ashes have been placed alongside his maternal grandparents. His mum had mentioned earlier that while she thought it was a nice resting place and plaque, she didn't feel particularly close to him there. Mainly because she knows he's with her always and she talks to him every day - so she feels his spirit is with us, not at the cemetery. 

I expected to feel something when I visited his grave but also realized that he isn't 'there'. It was nice to see and I plan to visit as often as I can, but I know he's with me, in my heart, wherever I am.

When I returned to Brisbane I heard from the local cemetery that his granite headstone had been installed at his gravesite, ready for me to place his ashes. So I went to visit, and was very happy with how it turned out but realized he wasn't 'there' either. It's not that I felt his absence or thought that he wouldn't like the resting place we'd chosen or anything ... I just knew he was there inside me, as he always is, and not in the headstone. 

Seeing both gravesites within a week of each other was intense and brought on a lot of tears and emotions, however something of a surprise is that I still haven't descended into the almighty 'grief crash' that usually comes after a significant milestone or spending time with those closest to him. As much as I love their company and solidarity, I had found that the days after a visit from his family or friends found me in an  inevitable emotional hang over - drained of all energy and full of the emptiness of his loss. 

I'm reluctant to make any grand claims that the crash isn't coming ... But I'm still waiting after my first weekend back in his home town with his people (including two gorgeous nephews who always tug at my heart strings); seeing the graves; celebrating Christmas with his family where his absence filled the house and then celebrating again at home with my family.

Could it be that I'm healing and progressing along this grief journey or is it just taking a little longer than normal to hit due to the extra tough shell I stacked around my heart in order to get through this 'festive season'?