Just a few weeks after Dave died, my stepdaughter lovingly asked what I was doing for Christmas. She simply didn't want me to spend my first Christmas alone. But I wasn't ready to think that far ahead.

The question sent my anxiety into overdrive, and I spent the rest of the evening in tears. It took me a while to realize it wasn't the question itself that upset me.

It was being asked to think about a future I simply couldn't face yet.