Since Eric died, I’ve noticed something kind of unexpected: I hardly watch TV anymore. It’s not that I’ve lost interest in the shows we loved—it’s more that I can’t bring myself to watch them without him. British mysteries, old westerns, Mel Brooks movies… they were our thing. Watching them now feels like staring at an empty chair where he should be.

 

At first, I chalked it up to needing time. But as I thought about it, I realized this wasn’t just about TV. It was about all the things we enjoyed together. Traveling. Antiquing. Visiting historical landmarks. Taking long drives with no destination in mind, just watching for wildlife. These weren’t just activities—they were the heart of our time together.

 

Now, faced with the idea of doing those things alone, I find myself hesitating. Can I still enjoy them without him? 

Should I?

 

 

 

 

I don’t have all the answers, but here’s what I’ve been figuring out: carrying on doesn’t mean forgetting. It means finding ways to bring those shared joys into my life in a way that feels right. 

 

Grief isn’t a wall—it’s more like a tide, ebbing and flowing, carrying me between joy and sadness. And in those moments of ebb, I’ve started to realize it’s okay to make space for the memories without letting them hold me back.

 

For example, I’ve been finding comfort in smaller, gentler ways to revisit what we loved. I’m not quite ready to binge-watch new episodes of all our favorite shows, but flipping through an old photo album from one of our trips? That feels almost manageable. And I’ve been reading up on the history of some of the places we visited. It feels like a way to honor the past while still moving forward. It’s like dipping my toe into the water instead of diving in.

 

 

 

 

Rediscovering joy in these activities doesn’t have to mean jumping in all at once... toe-dipping is just perfect. I’ve been giving myself permission to start small:

These little steps make the idea of carrying on feel less overwhelming. They remind me that it’s not about recreating what we had, but about keeping the connection alive in a way that fits where I am now.

 

 

 

 

Carrying on does not mean forgetting. It means finding ways to let the good parts of the past blend into the present. For me, that’s about slowly easing into those shared activities—whether it’s taking that quiet drive or just remembering the joy we found in a quirky antique shop. Some family members will remember a few of the "questionable" Christmas gifts Eric found for his dad in some of those shops! 🫢 He made life so much fun!

 

 

 

 

Grief is complicated. Some days, it feels like an anchor, weighing me down and making every step forward a struggle. Other days, it feels like a gentle reminder to appreciate what we had and carry it with me. And it often feels like I'm taking two steps forward, then one step back. 

 

I’m learning that it’s okay to move forward in a way that feels right for me—even if it’s slow, even if it’s messy. I don’t have to have it all figured out. 

 

And neither do you.

 

If you’re in a similar place, know that you’re not alone. Whether you’re rediscovering shared joys or just trying to get through the day, it’s okay to take your time. It’s okay to start small.

 

I’m curious—how have you navigated these moments? Have you found ways to rediscover shared joys on your own? Let me know—I’d love to hear your thoughts.