Please God, Stop Giving Me Condolence Cards

I. Fucking. Hate. Them.

I don't care if you thought he was a good man, obviously I did and don't give a single flying fuck what you thought about him.

I don't want your sympathy. I don't want your thoughts. I am drowning in front of other people feeling entitled to share my grief.

You didn't visit him, you didn't call. You didn't send a meal, or offer a ride to his appointments when I was trying to juggle working and childcare and all of his treatments. You didn't run a mop over the floor when I was breaking from exhaustion.

But sure, pat yourself on the back really gently about how you're so devastated for me now.

I don't want these constant physical token reminders of the worst thing that has ever happened to me. I certainly know he's dead, thanks.

Our children do not need this as part of their tragic origin story.

I am throwing them into the garbage.

Kindly,

A Very Fresh Widow