@sadson
Sorry about your loss, one I can totally relate to. My Mom passed away just last November, and the days and nights have been filled with fear, doubts, regrets, and a total sense of emptiness.
Yes there is a lot of emptiness, wandering around, that I still feel, as I took care of Mom, with my spouse. The last six years kept me housebound, and turned things around to where David became the bread winner. Seems that most Governments, such our lovely one, don't believe being the primary caregiver is a job, when you are family.
Even now, nearly a year later, there are moments when you just want to pull the covers up over your face, and not get out of bed. The sense of loss is almost unbearable, but that is the thing, it is just "almost" that. It isnt easy to cope with the change, because after such a long time, six years in my case, of being on duty 24/7 365 days, you actually have time.
There are no calls to take, or doors to have open for in home care givers, no standing on guard to insure that they can do their job, without causing more pain. No more Doctors to keep informed of changes, or to deal with. No government agency to spend hours fighting with, over quality of care, no rushing to pharmacies for refills, or other supplies. No scouring of the papers for sales on depends, no running up and down stairs to put laundry in the washer, then the dryer, then fold and bring back, to only get tomorrow's load down the stairs. No commodes to wash, clean, and get ready.
But all that, is missed, for some odd reason. It was a sense of purpose, and now we have all this time, to think, to realize just what we missed. The regrets, the pain, all suddenly come rushing in, day after day, hour after hour, minute after minute, or so it seems. And while it all sounds dark, dismal, and painful, it is Life. It does get easier, time does dull some of it, until that one moment you get caught unaware, and the tears well up, the chest heaves a bit, as her smile flashes before your eyes, her voice echoes in your ears, and you know that you won't hear it again, see it again, and yet, really you do. You just did, and the calm comes, and as the days pass, the empty nights pass, the calm starts to grow longer, become more common.
I don't know how long it will take, for me, nearly a year later, the calm, the acceptance, is only now settling in, but that is me, stubborn to the end, I guess. Maybe not enough Chocolate in my diet, but it does get better, bit by bit. Now the regrets are there still, but tempered with the memories, the warmth of her touch, the radiance of her smile, the soothing echo of her voice.
It does get better.
Ian