I’ve become the Grieving Grinch with a Merry B*tchmas.
“I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”
Well... it’s like if your husband—your best friend—suddenly got sick and died.
Yeah, it’s like that.
insert awkward sarcastic laugh
(Humor helps my grief.)
Honestly, I just don’t know what to say anymore when people use that phrase. It’s kind, sure. People mean well—they’re expressing compassion. But it’s also become the default line I hear when someone learns my husband has died.
Most days, I respond with the classic:
“Yeah, just taking it one day at a time.”
Which, by the way, is totally true.
But every now and then, someone goes rogue and decides to... elaborate.
Her Hallway Monologue: "My Imaginary Widow Life"
Starring: A Random Neighbor in My Apartment Complex
“I would be crying all the time… I don’t think I could survive without my husband. You’re so young. And… oh… dating would be awful. I know someone whose wife died. You seem like you’re doing okay.”
End scene.
I wasn’t up for her spontaneous roleplay, but thankfully I made it to my door.
I gave her a sarcastic “yeah” and a shrug.
I know she meant well, trying to be supportive with her honesty…
But wow—not the best pep talk I’ve ever received.
Inside my head?
“Lady, you haven’t seen me at a grocery checkout line. That’s where I really shine.” 😉
What Grieving Is Like (For Me):
I don’t cry all the time.
I can survive without him. But I miss him terribly.
Some days are tougher than others.
I have to stop myself from grabbing his favorite snacks—or putting them back.
I feel fine one minute, then snap at something dumb the next.
I tearfully smile when his daughter plays his guitar.
I socialize, but it often feels like forced small talk.
Some friends disappear. Others reappear.
I listen to his playlists, choreograph dances in my head, and wonder why those songs mattered to him.
Some days I laugh. Other days I cry into a pillow.
I accomplish something, then lay in bed wearing his shirt just to feel a hug.
I really am taking it one day at a time.
And yes—the thought of dating again? Utterly terrifying.
I already have a backstory full of crazy online dating disasters before I met Kris. The idea of stepping back into that mess? Ugh.
Post-Traumatic Stress Dating is real.
But come on—why did she bring it up? I’m still floating through grief, not ready for a second round of Tinder trauma.
The Holidays Hit Different
Ever since Mariah Carey hit that note this season, it’s been a full-on emotional slap in the face.
If you’ve lost someone, you know:
The holiday season can SUCK.
Suuuuuuckkkkkkkkkkkks.
Family gatherings without him.
Living far from loved ones.
Watching others celebrate while you quietly fall apart.
It’s grief—next level.
Everything is a reminder.
The music. The commercials.
The pie you still make.
Even the stupid Elf.
You remember how he had your back and moved the Elf when you forgot.
Now, when it doesn’t move?
“The cat must’ve touched it.”
And you feel everything—grief, guilt, laughter, sadness—all at once.
Visions of myself yeeting the Elf into the garbage disposal? Oh yes.
Everyday Moments That Break Me:
In the school pickup line, I sit wiping away tears, hoping no one notices.
On the bright side?
No need to figure out his Christmas gift this year.
Ha. Yay for the little things?
I’m incredibly lucky to have supportive family, and I’ll be seeing them soon.
But selfishly, I want more.
I want him back.
Between the rainy Washington weather and another holiday approaching, I’ve become:
A Grieving Grinch with a Merry B*tchmas.
(As if that wasn’t already obvious.)
I sit here, pint of cheesecake ice cream in hand,
Jealous of your happy posts on Facebook and Instagram.
You...
…Kissing under the mistletoe. Pfft.
Matching family pajamas.
Meanwhile, I take a family photo at his grave.
The only thing matching around here? Therapy with my kid.
Cheeeese!
The Ornaments, The Eggnog, The Elf
Pulling out the Christmas decorations brings back all the memories.
Us staying up too late, drinking eggnog, building like two over-caffeinated elves.
sigh
My one Grieving Grinch B*tchmas Wish?
That you’re good to each other.
That you love yourself and those around you—genuinely.
That you stay present for the moments you have.
Because I promise, I do love seeing your Christmas photos.
It reminds me what love looks like.
Thanks for reading my rant.
It helps.
I can switch gears now—back to gratitude.
I cherish what I had.
I honor the love we shared.
The holidays are still painful, still tender.
And yes—I’m jealous.
So, Here’s My Ask:
Keep making memories.
Think before you speak.
And be kind. Always.
You never know when someone’s having a Grinchy B*tchmas moment.
I’ll be over here avoiding awkward small talk with my neighbors,
Yelling at my cat for climbing the tree,
Cussing at the Elf for emotional support,
And embracing the moments I still get to have—with the people I love.
My Grinchy heart hasn’t shrunk.
I’m just grieving.
And yeah…
Sometimes it feels damn good to b*tch.
Love and hugs,
Danielle