Losing my husband last year has left me feeling alone, and with my children living abroad, it’s hard to find comfort in my work as a school teacher and navigate life without him. The world feels so different now—quieter, emptier—and I often catch myself staring at the spaces he once filled. Our home, once a sanctuary of shared moments, now feels like a place where memories linger, but his absence looms large. Every day I try to move forward, but it’s hard to ignore the ache that comes with his loss.
My children, who mean everything to me, live far away now. While we stay in touch through phone calls and messages, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing out on their lives. They’ve grown into adults with their own families and responsibilities, and I am so proud of them, but there’s a loneliness in not being able to hug them, share a meal, or spend time together in person. I often find myself scrolling through old pictures, wishing for one more visit or a weekend together, but the distance feels insurmountable at times.
At work, I try to focus on my students, but teaching has become harder without my husband by my side. He was always there to listen to my stories after school, to offer support when things got tough, and to remind me to take a break when I needed it. Now, I find myself working long hours, pouring everything into my students, yet something feels missing. I’ve become more withdrawn, my energy focused on others rather than myself. I still love teaching, but it’s difficult to ignore the weight of my own grief as I help shape young minds.
In the quiet moments, when the school day ends and I’m alone in the house, I realize how much I long for connection—whether with my children or even with new people. The loneliness is a constant companion, and sometimes it feels overwhelming. Yet, I remind myself to take things one day at a time, finding small pieces of peace in the things I love, like tending to my garden or spending time with my cat, Daisy. But even in these quiet moments, I am reminded that life has changed, and I’m still figuring out how to live without the person who once made it all feel whole.
