Letter to a friend whose husband recently died

Dec. xx, 2025

Dear *****,

I did see your daughter's notice of her dad's passing. I am so very sorry.

If you will pardon my saying so, fuck cancer. I hate it. It has taken so many people too soon.

My Rick was 68 when he passed, and I thought he was way too young, and it was way too soon. He was ill for five years.

For the first four and a half months after he was gone, I was numb, and sat in a chair on the kitchen porch staring at my little slice of heaven here. 

About May the numbness wore off and I started to crack like an egg. That was an interesting summer. 

Everyone’s experience is unique.

I will not tell you, “It gets better.” It might not.

I will not tell you he’s in a better place. The best place for him would be alive, and well, and with you.

I will not tell you that God has a plan. If there is such a plan, it is random and brutal.

I will not talk about the “stages of grief.” You may find yourself going through all the stages every day, many times.

It changes a bit as time goes on. I can tell you that.

You are now a member of one of those clubs that nobody wants to join, but you will find that people who have been through it will show you so much compassion, and understanding, and sympathy.

You will also notice that people who have not been through this loss really don’t get it. It’s okay. They can wait for their turn.

You will find, if you haven’t already, that he is part of you. Things he said and felt and did are all part of you, melded with you over the years, and he will show up every day in your mind and heart. He is always with you.

Okay, end of sermon.

I wish you all the best. I wish and pray for you to have peace, and grace, and the knowledge that you will get through this. You will. Your daughters, your friends, anyone decent who encounters you, will support you, even if they don’t say a word.

So there.

Blessings, love, hugs,

Mary