The widow bubble

I have been in a bubble for months.  I feel like I am watching as all of my friends move on with their lives and the death of my husband no longer has the impact on them that it did.  The bubble keeps them from seeing the pain that I am in.  Sometimes I can break through and for brief moments I am truly happy, maybe even laughing some.  It doesn't take long though and I am back inside the bubble.  The bubble has carried me through the last 21 weeks without Brian.  The widow bubble has protected me.  It has allowed some of the sharp edges of reality to not sting so much.  It allows me a view of what is out there while keeping me safe. 

Some days though just aren't right.  My kids will talk to me and I look and them and say "Wait...What?"  They will repeat it and I still won't understand what they are trying to say.  Those are the days that the widow bubble is not clear, but foggy.  It clouds my perceptions.  I have found that on those days I should not even be driving, so I stay home.  Thankfully, the foggy bubble pertains to just certain moments and is not a constant, or even that often for that matter.

Sometimes the bubble makes me feel as though I am moving in slow motion.  I will have all kinds of goals set for my day and on many days not even one of those goals is completed.  I can't seem to get anything done.  It's days like these that I want out of the bubble, but that is scary too.  What if once the bubble is gone the pain of Brian's death is overwhelming?  It already hurts so much that I can't imagine it getting any worse.  While the bubble is there it has not hidden me from the reality of Brian's death.  It has not kept the pain or the tears away. 

The bubble is between me and life. Though I'm sure it is a necessity to have, sometimes I feel trapped.  I want more moments of true happiness.  I want to laugh again.  I want to be out of the bubble and feel like me again.  I want to live my life, though it is not the life I planned with Brian by my side.  As my life moves forward I suspect that the bubble will dissipate and one day I will realize that it is gone.  Until then, if you hear me say, "Wait....What?" you'll know the bubble is foggy that day and that maybe I need a hug.