Still Here, Still Mom | Life After Loss

This is not the story I ever thought I would have to tell.

It began the day my world changed forever.

3 February 2026.
The day my husband took his own life.

Today, it has been 1 month, 2 weeks and 2 days.

Every day has been hard. Not just today. Every single day.

Right now, this is all I am capable of:

Waking up.
Getting my girls ready for school.
Crying on the way to work.
Trying to function.
Going home.
Helping with homework.
Getting everyone ready for bed.
Sleeping.

And then doing it all again the next day.

I feel like a robot.
I am not living—I am surviving.

I cannot think about the future. I cannot process what has happened.
This is all I can manage right now.

Life did not stop.

The first two weeks were filled with planning and arrangements. People coming in and out, offering condolences.

Then the memorial service.

Then straight back to work.

At the same time, I had to pack up our home.

I had to pack up my life.
I had to pack up his things.

Every moment of that was emotional.

Now I am living with my parents, because financially I cannot afford to be on my own after losing my husband.

When I am home, I am with my girls.

And I want to be with them…

But at the same time, I just want to lie in bed for a week and cry.

There are moments that break me.

Like getting a phone call from my daughter, crying because she is being shouted at.

Like realising I am trying to hold everything together when I am completely falling apart inside.

I don’t feel like the parent I want to be right now.

I am trying to give my girls space to feel, to express themselves, to grow into who they are.

But everything feels heavy. Everything feels hard.

There is something I have been doing that has helped me, even if only a little.

I send my husband messages on WhatsApp.

Some days I can do it.
Some days I can’t.

But when I can, this is what I say:

“I will never see you again.”
“I forgive you.”
“I will always love you.”
“I miss you so much today.”
“I wish you knew how many people loved you.”

“Lilly hurt herself today… you would have been so calm.”
“This child misses you so much… she just doesn’t know how to show it.”

“I wish you were here.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I will never have you back.”

“How was your day?”
“I hope you’re okay.”
“I miss you.”
“Goodnight my love.”

Some days I ask questions.

Was it you in my dreams?
Are you okay?
Can you see us?

Some days I just sit in the silence.

I am still trying to understand how this is my life now.

How I am supposed to live without him.

How I am supposed to raise our girls without him.

There is not a second that goes by where I don’t think about him.

Not a second where I don’t feel this loss.

Not a second where my heart doesn’t ache.

I don’t have answers.

I don’t know how this ends.

I don’t know how I get through this.

One day at a time.