The first few days following Chris’s death, I lamented to those closest to me how I didn’t know if I’d ever be happy again. The pain, the numbness, that came with losing him was so strong. I didn’t know how I could be happy when the person who made me laugh the hardest was gone.
The thing is, happiness took on a different meaning. The day after Chris passed, I was talking to a friend who made a joke about the picture I’d posted of Chris and I. To be fair, had anyone else said it I probably would’ve been appalled. However, it was said in fun and by someone I knew. That was the first time I felt guilty for being happy.
The second time, the one that made me go home and cry, was after the Ed Sheeran concert roughly a month after he passed. A separate friend paid for the concert as i’m a huge fan and concerts are what heals me. I sent the picture below to several people following the concert commenting on how happy I was. As soon as I got home, I wished Chris had been there for me to tell stories to.
Since this time, there have been many more happy moments. Many of them I ‘feel bad’ for being happy. We as a society are expected to mourn, especially those who are unlucky to be widows. As the news shows more and more, people think that we should be in a perpetual state of mourning, never to move on with our lives. However, I am learning that the best way to honor Chris, the man who spent his days trying to make me happy, is to live. To be happy with or without him. To fight to be happy, even if it hurts.