“It’s November 19 again. It’s the ‘Deathaversary,’ as we widows call it—the date that quietly circles back each year whether we’re ready or not.
Two years ago, on this day, I lost my husband, and my kids lost their father. I know—it’s ridiculous to sit here staring at this Shutterfly calendar, fixated on an arbitrary square marked Tuesday. It wasn’t even a Tuesday when he died. It was a f‑ing Sunday. But still, here I am, letting a date carry more weight than it should. It’s not like he’s somewhere in the afterlife staring at a desk calendar too, watching us cross off days on this dumb thing.
And yet, it’s here again. Not that November 19 is the only day I want to crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head, and disappear. Those days show up uninvited all year long. Grief doesn’t politely knock once annually—it barges in whenever it wants. The cost of loss is ongoing, unpredictable, relentless.
The other day, my little one asked if she could go see the counselor. Yes—a second grader requesting therapy, y’all. Is that a win or a warning sign? I asked her why, and she said simply, ‘Because I’m having feelings.’
I know, baby. Me too.
Feelings of guilt, because I’ve found flickers of happiness with someone who isn’t your daddy. Feelings of inadequacy, because your dad would’ve been so much better during homework hour than your impatient mom. Feelings of heartbreak, like when your brother casually smiled last night and said, ‘I remember how Dad used to hang his towel on the inside of the shower door.’ Yep. He did that because he hated being cold, and if it saved him even one second of wet discomfort, he was doing it.
Sometimes the feelings hit in unexpected ways—like when I found a note little one left on the junk table:
‘Deer Dad,
We all wish you could come back.
A boy Luke likes me.
I wish you could see him.’
All of it—the laughter, the ache, the longing—can honestly go kiss off. I wish these feelings would leave us alone. And then again, I don’t. Because the feelings are proof. They remind me I’m still alive. They tell me it was all real. They keep him real. They keep him here with us.
So we’re sitting with these Tuesday feelings. November 19 feelings hurt, yes. But being alive enough to feel them? That part is still worth everything.”
