Susan Rardon
Rose, Ph.D.
Navigating the 4th Anniversary
Navigating the 4th Anniversary: Journey Through Grief and Healing
Four years ago, my world changed forever when my husband passed away. With each passing year, the anniversary of his death has been a powerful reminder of that profound loss. Today, on the 4th anniversary, the emotions have been both familiar and new, presenting unique challenges and opportunities for growth. So, as always, I'm sharing some of the difficulties I’ve encountered and how I’ve worked to overcome them, in the hope that you may find comfort and encouragement in your own journey.
1. The Emotional Rollercoaster
As the anniversary drew near — and as I woke this morning to be reminded of the auspicious meaning of this date, I found myself again swept up in a whirlwind of emotions — grief, anger, sadness, and even guilt and regret. The weight of remembering his last days feels just as heavy as it did in the first year. These waves of grief can be unpredictable, sometimes crashing in when I least expect them. This emotional rollercoaster is perhaps one of the hardest parts of reaching this milestone.
Yet, I’ve learned to give myself permission to feel. There’s no right or wrong way to grieve, and I remind myself that it’s okay to have tough days. Journaling has become a lifeline, allowing me to pour out my feelings without judgment. I’ve also leaned into conversations with loved ones and close friends, recognizing that speaking about my grief helps lift some of the emotional weight. It’s a reminder that I’m not alone, even in the moments when my heart feels isolated in its sadness.
My mother has been my lifeline — as she has been in all things in my life. Her faith, grace, strength, patience... even as she's walking this same road has kept me afloat. I pray each of you have someone that can support you as well.
2. The Pressure to Be ‘Better’
Four years have passed, and sometimes I feel pressure — from myself or society — to be “better” by now. Grief doesn’t have a timeline, but there’s often an expectation that after a certain point, you should have healed or at least made further progress. This expectation creates an inner struggle, making me question if I’m doing grief “correctly” or if I’m stuck in the past.
Yet, I remind myself that healing isn’t linear. As I've written many a time, grief is not something you get over; it’s something you learn to carry differently over time. What helped me was redefining what “better” means. Instead of striving to move past the loss, I’ve focused on integrating it into my life - to move forward with the loss. It’s part of my story, and I’ve accepted that some days I will feel okay, and other days I’ll be overwhelmed. I now allow myself to honor my husband’s memory in a way that feels right for me, without comparing my journey to anyone else’s.
3. Facing Milestones Alone
Milestones and anniversaries can feel isolating. Yes, others — especially our children — miss him terribly. But, their grief is their own just as mine is. We each process differently. For me, these milestones remind me of our plans for the future. We were supposed to grow old together. Each anniversary without him reminds me of those unfulfilled dreams. The void left by his absence is particularly painful during these significant moments. I struggle each holiday, each milestone with the loneliness of celebrating anniversaries or birthdays without him by my side.
However, I've learned to find comfort in creating new rituals to honor his memory rather than trying to avoid these milestones. (Trying to avoid them, I've learned, is futile. The date is going to come. It's better to face it head on.) This year, for example, I’ve spent time in the memorial garden I created in our backyard. Tending to that garden has become a healing ritual, where I can feel close to him in a space filled with life, beauty, and our special roses. Then, I stopped by Dairy Queen, ordered what he would have recognized as my predictable order - cheese curds and a blizzard - and went to eat with him on his bench where he is laid to rest. It is also comforting that his friends remember these special days and reach out to me. It reminds me of the love that continues to surround me, even though he is gone.
4. The Unexpected Moments of Joy
One of the unexpected difficulties in grief is the moments of joy. It may seem strange, but experiencing happiness or moments of peace can bring about guilt. I’ve sometimes felt that being joyful is a betrayal of his memory, as if happiness meant I was forgetting him. Even though I remind myself that he would want me to be happy, these emotions can still be confusing and difficult to navigate.
Yet, I’ve come to understand that joy doesn’t erase grief; instead, they coexist. Happiness and sadness can exist in the same moment; they are not mutually exclusive emotions! I’ve learned to embrace the idea that my husband would want me to live fully, to find happiness even in his absence. Accepting joy has been an act of self-compassion, allowing me to let go of guilt and trust that I can hold onto his memory while still finding moments of peace and contentment. His love is part of who I am, and experiencing joy is a way of honoring the life we shared, especially since he was so joyful and full of life.
5. Continuing to Move Forward
Perhaps one of the hardest parts of marking this 4th anniversary is the ongoing journey of moving forward. Moving forward doesn’t mean moving on or forgetting. It means continuing to build a life that honors both my grief and my growth. But that process can feel daunting. Some days, I wonder what it means to truly move forward when a piece of me will always be missing.
I’ve learned to focus on small, meaningful steps that make moving forward feel less overwhelming. I continue my work with Counseling Today and my website as ways to give back and use my experiences to help others grow and learn. In a way, each step forward is a testament to my husband’s influence on my life. He believed in me, and I carry that belief forward, using it to fuel my own healing and the work I do in the world. Creating and sustaining projects that align with my passion reminds me that even in loss, there is a future I can build.
Final Thoughts
The 4th anniversary of my husband’s death is a complicated mix of emotions—grief, healing, sadness, and hope. Each year brings its own set of challenges, but with each passing day, I continue to find ways to navigate those difficulties with the resilience he so well role modeled for me. My journey has taught me that grief isn’t about letting go, but about holding on—holding on to the love, the memories, and the person I have become because of the time we shared.
For anyone who is grieving, especially around anniversaries, I want you to know that it’s okay to feel everything you’re feeling. Grief may change shape, but it never fully disappears. And in learning to live alongside it, we find new ways to heal, grow, and honor the ones we love.
I am a school counselor turned counselor educator, professor, and author helping educators and parents to build social, emotional, and academic growth in ALL kids! The school counseling blog delivers both advocacy as well as strategies to help you deliver your best school counseling program.
I'm a mother, grandmother, professor, author, and wife (I'll always be his). Until October 20, 2020, I lived with my husband, Robert (Bob) Rose, in Louisville, Ky. On that awful day of October 20,2020, my life profoundly changed, when this amazing man went on to Heaven. After Bob moved to Heaven, I embraced my love of writing as an outlet for grief. Hence, the Grief Blog is my attempt to share what I learned as a Counselor in education with what I am learning through this experience of walking this earth without him. My mission is to help those in grief move forward to see joy beyond this most painful time.
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