“What will disrupt your life the most is the image in your mind of how it should be.” ~Unknown
I anticipated going to college, securing a job after diligent effort, and finding a wonderful partner to marry. We would purchase a home, begin a family, and grow old side by side. I would care for him until his last moments, then join a travel group. My grown children would come over for meals, and we would vacation with our grandchildren. That was my dream.
Life appeared straightforward: progress from A to B to C by adhering to expectations and working hard. The simplicity of life ended when the universe interfered with my plans.
On an ordinary school day, my world crumbled. Such calamities often happen on seemingly normal days.
My husband and I, both educators, woke before dawn to commence our daily routine. After preparing our kids, he would drop them off while I picked them up after school. Our day was packed with work, meetings, errands, and family responsibilities.
But that typical day took an unexpected turn.
On April 27, 2016, I discovered my husband dying on the living room floor. Instantly, my anticipated life disappeared.
I never envisioned becoming a 34-year-old widow with a one-year-old, a barely verbal three-year-old, and a six-year-old about to graduate kindergarten.
I confronted an unfamiliar reality filled with sorrow, recognizing that the life I once knew was over.
We had meticulously planned all our children, even arranging for a fourth who would never come to be. Now, I was a lone parent, a widow.
It’s awkward to admit, but I wasn’t just grieving my husband. I missed him deeply, struggled with eating and sleeping, and felt isolated in life. The burden of single motherhood drained me. The loneliness and injustice of my situation frequently tempted me to surrender.
Yet, I faced another loss: the life I had envisioned. My shattered expectations, the shifted path of my life, propelled me into uncertainty.
We anticipate life to unfold according to our aspirations. When it strays, accepting the new reality is challenging. Initially, we resist; we refuse to acknowledge the change.
This wasn’t the life I selected. I believed I deserved better and questioned why this injustice came my way. Holding onto such thoughts pulled me further into grief, marking the beginning of my sorrow.
It’s disheartening to recognize you never had control despite believing you could plan everything. It resembles a deception.
Expectations are merely thoughts, assumptions, desires—not certainties.
Even before this, I had encountered small disappointments—like missed job offers or ended relationships—but I wasn’t prepared for genuine disappointment that shatters your world.
We think misfortunes befall others, not us. Until they occur.
I recall my husband’s frustration when I expressed envy towards others on Facebook. He would remind me it was meaningless.
“Everyone showcases their best on Facebook,” he’d comment.
Later, when I witnessed those enviable couples divorcing, I wished he could be there to say, “I told you so.”
These reflections remind me that life isn’t as terrible or wonderful as it appears. There exists a middle ground.
In emotional extremes, I remind myself of this. These are just thoughts—sandcastles eroded by fresh tides. It’s neither good nor bad.
I have always held lofty expectations for myself, never accepting failure. As a widow, I grappled with my new reality.
I wasn’t the same mother—I had less time, patience, and energy. I had to adjust to my new existence, stifling disappointment that felt toxic.
After sinking into despair, one day I realized I had reached the lowest point, left alone with my sorrow. I was fed up with negativity.
This marked my moment to rise and begin again.
Silence from despair allowed me to reflect objectively on my new life.
I understood my issue originated from expectations—the root of my despair.
I anticipated a long life with my husband, though he was never guaranteed to be mine forever. I ignored the reality: We only have today.
I yearned to live with purpose, hope, and joy. To attain that, I had to modify my expectations.
I couldn’t erase expectations entirely, as they serve a function. But I needed “flexible expectations”—standards and goals that allow space for life’s unpredictability.
I had to be resilient and tactical, viewing setbacks from a long-term lens rather than as definitive failures.
In a realm of uncontrollable situations, the strongest defense is mindset—your attitude and outlook. Is the glass half-full or half-empty?
Your thoughts shape your resilience and capacity to endure, through joy and sorrow.
My expectations never deceived me; they were life’s educators.
A year after my husband’s passing, I reviewed my year. The bad: my husband died. Alone. The good: new friendships, community support, travel, rekindled relationships, successful writing, joyful children, a supportive job, and good health.
It revealed that despite concentrating