Despite losing a husband, I still continue to believe in love. I see your anniversary posts and though it pains me that I never got to that milestone with my own husband, I’m happy for you. I hope and pray you never have to deal with the harsh reality of celebrating what would have been your anniversary.

The photos you text me of your family photos truly does warm my heart. Though at times, if I’m being honest, it makes me a little sad for my own children. My heart bleeds for them that our final family photo has already been taken. Their father, once so full of life and energy, was determined to continue our family tradition despite being too weak from the chemotherapy to hold little Sarah in his arms.

Regardless of the triggers your posts and social media statuses create, I am genuinely happy for you. I am not bitter or resentful of your life. The life you share with your spouse and children. What good would that do? I don’t want your husband, I want mine back though I know that’s not a option.

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I guess that’s why your reaction to one of the bravest things I’ve ever done in life hurt me to my core. You see, instead of being bitter and locking myself (and my heart) away from the world, I chose to live. But, for some reason, you frowned at that decision. You judged me for not mourning long enough. You scolded me for wanting to move forward after the death of my husband. It’s ‘too soon‘ you said. “How can you just forget about your husband?“, you demanded to know.

It’s not lost on me that you don’t understand what my life now looks like as a widow. You weren’t there to hear my sobs or to watch me fall apart night after night. You weren’t there when my children climbed into bed with me every night because they wanted to feel close to their daddy. You know what else you missed? My downward spiral, the insomnia, the alcohol to numb the pain, the bad decisions made to combat the feelings of loneliness, the isolation, the abandonment, the anger, the wavering of my faith, the toxic in-laws, the fight with the insurance company, the defiant behaviors by my children who were left to mourn their father…you saw none of that.

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How dare you stand on your soapbox and judge my newfound happiness? Do you know what it took for me to get to this place? You don’t get to try to take away from my joy because its “too soon” in your eyes. I know you loved my husband but its not my problem that seeing me happy makes you sad. Have you ever heard the quote, “You are not require to set yourself on fire to keep other people warm”? That’s my new mantra! I cannot and will not dull my light to make you comfortable.

I’ve earned my happiness. I’ve been through hell and made it out on the other side. My children have been through the worst thing that has happened to them and it will likely have rippling effects throughout their lives. My choosing to date or remarry and bring a father-figure into their lives in no way replaces their father. In fact, it’s an insult to me and every other widow who chooses to date post-loss that you even think we’re trying to replace our children’s father.

I’ve made the decision to live despite a piece of my heart missing. I’ve chosen to carry on, even when I wanted to give up. I didn’t close off my heart to love after he died, I expanded it. I can find my joy while grieving. I can love again while grieving. My opting to make the very best of each day/moment isn’t disrespectful to my spouse or our love. It’s just the opposite. It’s a testament to his life and his legacy.

I hope you’ll think twice before you feel the need to tell me anything other than that I’ve done an amazing job despite the cards I was dealt or that you’re proud of me. I will tolerate nothing less!

Widowed at 32 years old, Kerry runs a support group for young widows and widowers venturing back into the world of dating.

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