The Second Year Is Harder

In my second session of the hospice support group, a widower shared that as hard as the first year was, the second year was more challenging. It had only been five months since Mike had died, and the pain was so fresh. How could it be worse than this?

The first year after Mike’s death, I was an open wound that would not heal. There were anniversaries and holidays to endure. Going to the grocery store, where I found solace because of its orderliness, would mock me with Christmas decorations and Valentine’s flowers. The message was that you don’t have a husband, and look at all these people who have someone special. I would avert my eyes and rush past the displays. June 2nd to July 7th was a big time of year for our family: our anniversary, my birthday, Mike’s birthday, and finishing up with the girls’ birthday on the 7th. A’s birthday was in September, so there was a brief respite. Christmas was Mike’s favorite holiday. The time leading up to Christmas was tough.

The first year’s most challenging time was the month leading up to the anniversary of Mike’s death. My anxiety increased, and I felt so sad. I was reliving the days before his death and how it could have ended differently. The actual anniversary wasn’t as bad as the anticipation. It took me a while to understand why, but clarity came. In some part of my brain, I thought Mike would die again, and I’d have to experience the original trauma once more.

The second year was more difficult because Mike’s being dead was not going to change. He wasn’t coming back. During the first year, when I would remember Mike, he was alive the year before. There were memories, good and bad. There were no more memories of him being alive in the second year. This was my new life. As much as I hated hearing that share in my hospice group, it helped to know that what I was feeling was what other people before me had experienced, too.

Every year gets a little better, with the periods leading up to special dates less taxing. Grocery store displays no longer bother me. I’ve learned to live with the ups and downs of loss, knowing that I’ve walked through the most excruciating time and I’m still standing.