Dear Ms. Sandberg,

Thank you for making me feel like a failure in grief as well. I know that wasn’t your intention and I do appreciate that you really tried being humble this time (Shout out to your research team for finding facts about minority single mothers in US). It just didn’t do it for me. I have spent last five days thinking about it (called crying in Widow terms) and I just seem to get more upset. I’m not saying I hate your book, I’m just saying your advice isn’t really for me.
First of all, I did try imagining the worse. But, as I have no children, I couldn’t be grateful that I still have them. I tried to imagine losing rest of my family, losing my limbs, losing my house, finding out Simon was an alien or had another wife somewhere, but, nope, losing Simon is still the worst (No offence, fam!).
Then, I was jealous that you were able to get to a point where you knew you will be OK. Twenty-three months in, and still nowhere close to that point. In fact, I almost cried in a restaurant the other day when I saw a mid-50s woman, looking a bit sad, having dinner alone with her notes and books. I saw my future and didn’t like it (please note I don’t mind dining alone, I just want the option of Simon being present). It’s scary not been able to imagine a future where you might be happy.
I’m jealous that you were able to go back to work and find solace in it. I struggled with it (being told that I was headed for a break-down didn’t help either). Only after I took 5 months break, I felt like I had moved somewhat forward. But then I moved cities for new work and went backwards (Self-sabotage has always been my specialty).
I am also jealous of your support network. I wish some of my family members would’ve talked to me about it. I feel sad that some of my friends, for one reason or another, just left me. Maybe you are just focusing more on positive experiences. Good on you. I do try to focus on good things as well. I just don’t succeed much.
I agree with you that most people don’t understand loss and it’s important to find/build communities where you can belong. The support I have found from my widows/widowers groups in Facebook has been life-saving (Hey Weirdows!!!). I cherish the friends I have made there.
But I still hate you for being able to articulate your grief and writing a book. Not really!! It’s amazing and inspiring. I can’t even tweet anymore or blog. Though I can now sew a bit and knit a lot. You said not to isolate yourself and I have been trying so hard this year to be more social. Sadly, it doesn’t seem to be working that well for me. I do like spending time with my friends, but I am always looking forward to being alone at home with Simon.
And what’s with the forced humour? It’s a book about grief. We can find a book readable even without the jokes. I’m sure reading them wasn’t as cringe-worthy as listening to them on an audio-book.
It was not a bad book. But being a bit of Type-A (just a wee bit), I couldn’t help but compare our journey’s timelines. And I found mine lacking. Control-freak that I am, I really want my grief to behave and let me get on with the things. Sadly, it just doesn’t listen to me. The worse part is that had Simon been here, he would’ve told me to relax and I would’ve (Distracting me and getting me to relax was one of his many talents). Not to mention, I got even more upset that I have all these thoughts on this book and he isn’t around to let me vent.
All in all, I give your book 3 stars our of 5.

Note: posted on FB.