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This year was meant to celebrate thirteen years of marriage. It was supposed to be the anniversary filled with lighthearted jokes about superstitions and unlucky numbers. Instead, it marked my fourth anniversary waking up without my husband, navigating life as a widow while raising two children alone. I found myself reflecting on what could have been. However, this year also represented a turning point — my first year of truly confronting the challenging aspects of my grief.
On the morning of my anniversary, rather than receiving a flurry of “Happy Anniversary” messages like in the earlier years, I was met with the typical weekday chaos: kids rushing to get ready for school, a dog needing to go to the vet, and a mountain of laundry piled up.
After taking care of those tasks, I ventured to the grocery store. In the bakery section, a cookie cake caught my eye, adorned with the words “Happy Anniversary” written in pink icing. I stood frozen in front of it, consumed by frustration. In a different reality — the one where my husband had survived his battle with brain cancer — that cake would have been ours to enjoy. Instead, I was reminded of what I had lost, and it was far from a happy anniversary.
As I continued my shopping, I circled back to that cake multiple times. My desire to buy it wasn’t rooted in nostalgia or celebration of our love; rather, it stemmed from a place of spite. I wanted to deny that cake to the unknown person who would inevitably purchase it, someone whose partner was alive and who could take it home to celebrate.
This is where the uncomfortable side of grief comes into play. Grief encompasses heartache, loneliness, nostalgia, and fear — none of which are pleasant feelings. They are challenging to confront, both for ourselves and for those who support us. But there are also darker emotions that we rarely discuss, such as resentment, jealousy, and anger. These feelings are part of the human experience, and pretending they don’t exist only allows them to fester and grow.
Standing before that cake, I realized I was tired of masking my resentment. It’s exhausting to ignore the anger that comes from knowing we were supposed to have a lifetime together, and the fact that we didn’t even reach ten years. Acknowledging these ugly feelings doesn’t mean they will define me, but it does mean I have to confront them and not let a small drop of resentment turn into a flood.
Ultimately, I didn’t buy the cake. I chose to acknowledge my feelings rather than let them control me. I thought about the person who might purchase the cake for genuine reasons, and I hoped they’d enjoy it. Instead, I decided to treat myself to something special: an extravagant coffee maker that I’d never buy for myself but that my husband would have delighted in gifting me. As I sit here drinking from it, I find it brings me more joy than any cake could.
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