Loss does not happen all at once.
People like to say that time heals everything, but when you lose someone you love, time does not immediately heal anything. At first, it simply moves forward while you remain trapped in the same terrible moment.
That was how it felt when I lost Adrian.
He was my fiancé, my best friend, and the person I had planned to spend the rest of my life with.
We were supposed to be married.
Our wedding had been planned for months. Invitations had gone out. The venue had been booked. The flowers had been ordered. I had a dress hanging in my closet that I was too heartbroken to touch after the accident.
We had argued over ridiculous things.
The flavor of the wedding cake.
Whether we should have white roses or blush ones.
Whether Adrian should wear a traditional black tie or something slightly more modern.
Those were the kinds of arguments we had.
The kind that seem important when you're alive and completely meaningless after you're gone.
Then, just months before our wedding, Adrian died in a terrible car crash.
At least, that was what I was told.
At least, that was what everyone believed.
His funeral was closed-casket because of the extent of his injuries. I never got to see his face one final time. I never got the chance to touch his hand, tell him goodbye, or look into his eyes and say the things people always wish they had said before it was too late.
Instead, I stood beside a sealed casket and listened to the people around me cry.
His mother, Colleen, held my hand so tightly that our fingers went numb.
Everyone kept telling me how sorry they were.
People brought food to my apartment.
They sat beside me because they were afraid to leave me alone.
They called to make sure I was eating.
They told me Adrian had loved me.
They told me he would have wanted me to keep living.
But none of it helped.
I felt as though someone had reached inside my chest and torn everything apart.
And then, three months later, while I was trying desperately to return to something resembling a normal life, I saw the impossible.
I saw Adrian.
Alive.
Wearing the suit he had bought for our wedding.
And standing in a groom's room.
But he wasn't waiting for me.
He was preparing to marry someone else.
The Day My Life Changed
Before the accident, I had been busy in the happiest way possible.
I worked as a wedding decorator and florist, which meant my days were filled with colors, fabric, candles, ribbons, bouquets, centerpieces, and endless conversations about flowers.
My work revolved around celebrations.
People called me when they wanted to create beautiful memories.
I loved what I did.
Then Adrian died, and suddenly flowers became unbearable.
Every rose looked like a funeral arrangement.
Every bouquet reminded me of the wedding that would never happen.
Every time I walked into a reception hall and saw white flowers lining an aisle, I could barely breathe.
I tried taking time off, but grief is expensive.
The rent did not stop because my fiancé had died.
Bills did not pause because I was struggling to get out of bed.
Eventually, I had to return to work.
I told myself it would be good for me.
That staying busy might keep my mind from wandering into dark places.