I’ve had a startling number of friends pass. Some had services, some didn’t. But it’s always the same: the real healing always takes the form of sitting around and talking about the person we’d lost on some other random, beautiful, less full-of-pressure day.
If I thought it was uncomfortable to be a youngish person dating after one partner's death -- and I did -- dating with a two-for-two dead partner history is like competing in some sort of Awkwardness Olympics.
I was still recovering from the mixed emotions of seeing my boyfriend for the first time in months combined with reverse culture shock, but all of those distractions went out the window when I saw his mother lying comatose in the hospital bed.