January and February have been hard for me; the preceding holidays were also not full of “joy and merriment.” At the beginning of January 2022, Jim, my husband, decided to stop cancer treatment after almost a three-year battle. A failed stem cell transplant as the result of an infection that could not be cured had ravaged his body, and he did not want to fight anymore. Then, on February 20, he passed away, and my entire life changed at that moment. Two years later, I understand just how sneaky grief can be.
The last two years have brought additional losses, with the death of one of our closest friends and then the death of my brother. For months now, I have felt heavy with the weight of loss. Time and age don’t make it easier. At least six out of twelve months are marked by farewells, and I am still trying to figure out how to navigate the emotions that come with each.
This year, I have been thinking a lot about loss and loss and grief, and along with that, memories have been resurfacing. I remember being just a little kid, maybe five years old, and my stepmother dragging me along to a funeral. I couldn’t tell you who had passed or why we were there, but the tension it caused among my family stuck with me. Despite the drama about taking a young child to a funeral, I don’t recall anyone ever talking to me about death. Since I had no connection to the deceased, I don’t consider it my first experience with mortality.
My first real experience came in high school. Lori, a girl from school, was killed in a tragic accident during Christmas break. She was kind and pretty with none of the typical high school conceitedness some pretty girls have. Her death had an enormous impact on me. It was my first taste of losing someone close, and it hit me hard. Weeks passed before the heavy sadness I felt subsided. But grief is sneaky and has a way of creeping back in when you least expect it.
Since then, I’ve said goodbye to many loved ones – grandparents, parents, aunts, friends. Each loss has left its mark, subtly reshaping who I am. But losing Jim, my husband of almost 35 years, has been the most brutal blow of all. Grief doesn’t play fair; it sneaks up on you when you least expect it.
And so, I have been reflecting on loss and my grief, examining it and myself in the process, and I’m pushing forward. Some days are more challenging than others, and I’m still learning to embrace the discomfort. Sharing my experiences feels like a step toward healing, not just for myself but for anyone who might find solace in my words, knowing that someone else has had a similar experience.
~Anthony
Espresso Talks 