being an only parent

Last year, my husband died of ALS, leaving me to raise our two young children on my own. On one hand, I feel so lucky just to be here; I get to watch them grow up. On the other hand, the enormity of the responsibility of of being the only adult is positively staggering. Guiding them through their grief, while working through my own, could be a full time job. But on top of that, we have school and work and meals and laundry and pets and all the other things that need doing. And I need care and tending, too. I have an almost embarrassingly strong and deep support system, but at the end of the day, I am my kids’ only living parent. I am the only one who can make decisions affecting the course of their lives and the only one they want when their hearts are hurting. Even if I have the good fortune of finding a new partner sometime in the future, I will still be their only parent. This is an unchangeable truth that will exist for the rest of my life.