Forty years ago today, Real Life Romance Hero and I fell in love. Yes, we know the exact day and yes, it was the same day for both of us. We were working on helping to build the sets for our college’s production of Pilgrim’s Progress. I don’t know the exact thing that set things off, but we snuck off together, not for anything physical, but just to be with each other in this new emotion. One of our professors went looking for us, but went right past us, because that can’t be Anna and RLRH, because they aren’t a couple. We eventually made our way back and got back into the swing of things, but we knew that this was something important and something new. Forty years later, it still is.

The different thing is that this year, RLRH is not here. He died close to ten months ago, and I am still reeling. I love him. I miss him. I don’t know what is going on most of the time. I am currently at the local library (one of two, actually) completely puzzled by navigating LinkedIn, downloading my resume from the library onto a USB drive, apply for a front desk job at the hospital literally two blocks from my house, without signing up for endless everything from third party sites. RLRH would be extremely helpful with this sort of thing. But dead, though. Yeah. Housemate would at least be a listening ear, but also, dead. I am not a big fan of dead. Except The Walking Dead. I still love that.

This is as good a place as any to introduce the Holiday Grief Tour. The original plan was to make this a series of comedy bits on Tik Tok, which I may still do, but I am currently in a strange place between phones and internet plans for at least the next two weeks, and I am learning to pick my battles. One day at a time and all that. So. The days:

October 12: Falling in Love Anniversary. The day that RLRH and I fell in love. It was the same day and we knew, and that is magnificent. Even though he is not here anymore, I still feel the love and I still love this day.

October 24: My birthday. A milestone birthday. With a zero at the end. I have already passed the half century mark. I love my birthday. I love spending it with my family. They are dead. Except for Storm. She’s fine. I wanted a big celebration. I won’t get one. No pity, just a fact. It won’t happen. I will likely spend the day alone with my cat, crying a lot, and missing the people who should be here. The next weekday, I get to deal with a whole new level of stuff available to me in the way of aid. I hate being in this position. It sucks. I am not going to pretend there is a bright side. There isn’t. I wish they were here.

November 26: Thanksgiving and Accident Anniversary. RLRH fell down a full flight of stairs on Thanksgiving Eve of 2025, carrying a pumpkin pie. One of the first things he said when I reached him was “I had a pie.” The pie, ironically, was fine. Nobody ate it. We spent Thanksgiving in the hospital. He was NPO, that meaning nothing by mouth. I had a protein bar, but didn’t have the heart to eat it in front of him.

December 09: Mom’s death anniversary. I was fourteen. I still remember my dad waking me to tell me my mom had died. I hadn’t even gotten out of bed. It’s going to hit different this year, I imagine.

December 16: RLRH’s death anniversary. I was there with him until the end. Made sure he had Last Rites, as he was Catholic. Held his hand until mine looked dark red against his. I was paler than he was. Then it hit. His blood stopped circulating. He was done. There was a nondeominational chaplain there for me, and Housemate was there. The doctor stopped me on my way out to tell me I did everything right. But he still died.

December 25: Christmas. I could stop there. What else is there to say? My favorite day of the year, or it was. A family day. I expect to be alone with Storm. Housemate had said we would go all out for the holidays this year to make up for missing the whole season last year, but she died in August. I guess she did go all out…on everything. Black humor is a coping mechanism.

January 1st: New Year’s Day. One of my dear friends and her husband used to host my favorite holiday gathering of all time, a New Year’s book swap and potluck that lasted all day. This year, it won’t happen, because that friend also passed away. That is another loss, another grief.

February 14th: Valentine’s Day. This hits different for a widow. It hits differently for a widow who is also a romance writer. I have no idea what I will do on that day. I am open to dating again. Who can tell by that time?

This is a big downer post and I do not apologize for it. It’s what it is. It’s real. Writing helps me work through this kind of thing, and that is what I need today. I will post more upbeat/less grim stuff soon, and more frequently, but for today, this is what it is.

Hope your day is going better,