Four days.
I tried to think back to how I was feeling four days after I lost the love of my life on Dec. 2, 2020. I don’t know exactly what I did on the fourth day, because I didn’t muster the strength to write anything until more than a week later. But I imagine day four was much like days one, two and three, when the only thing I could manage to eat without my stomach curling was broth and smoothies; when I cried so much I neared dehydration; when I could barely speak, so I just sat in a room in silent anger as if waiting to be woken up from a bad dream; when I couldn’t bear sleeping in bed alone, so both of our kids, my mother and brother piled into my (formerly our) bedroom and comforted me when I woke at 4 a.m. in tears and anguish. My dreams were still mundane. Nothing of note occurred in them. But when I’d awake it was back to life … back to reality.