They were right.
The second year of grief is worse.
No longer in shock, no longer drowning in tears.
I’m no longer numb to my new reality.

The hurt runs deeper, it cuts more. I’ll have flashbacks of the first few months after he died and I can’t believe that it really happened. Another version of me took control, a stranger looking back in the mirror. This part of me I didn’t know existed. Then my emotions will remind me that I was really there. The same girl that gripped his hand for as long as she could is the same girl that diligently dusts his urn. The secondary losses have brought on a different shape to grief and it’s shaped like me. New emotions, anxieties and triggers are bubbling up to the surface.

A wife that I’ll never be.

The dreams that were meant for two, of a life I’ll never live.


I have an abundance of new opportunities and possibilities but I’m bound to the fear of failing, alone. When you lose your partner, you lose your life preserver. If there are two of you life isn’t as scary but learning to go at it by yourself, in a life that was built for two, is grueling.

Grief is tricky.
I feel like I’ve grieved for everything and everyone except for myself.
I’m empty.
I thought if I grieved the way others wanted or expected me to then I could hurry along the healing process. Maybe if I kept busy, or focused on anything else I could beat grief at its own game.
I lost.
I’m starting over. A blank page. Pressing pause and giving myself time. Time to heal and stitch myself up properly so I won’t continue to unravel. I can be a better version of myself in this new chapter, I want to learn how to love myself the way my husband did, the way my children and family do.

I want to see what they see.
Eyes and heart wide open.
I am my chapter two.


Who am I? I am a mother, a friend, a daughter and most recently, a widow.
On August 12, 2016 my husband died and I went with him. I have been spending my days since trying to rediscover who I am. Slowly and painfully, the real Lindsey began to emerge from the rubble. I was unsure of my purpose but diligently pushed through and fought for something that offered a glimmer of hope. Through many long days of uncertainty and pain I finally realized that I am bigger than my tragedy, that grief has many faces, it’s not just tears.There is more, so much more and I intend on embracing every bit. I am here. I am hope. I am love. She also writes and shares her heart on her personal blog called Grief Deposit. You can also find her on Instagram sharing her journey at @beatrixsgarden