The day of your loved one’s passing is indeed a hard time to get through. But unbeknownst to many, the day after their death is much harder to get through. As I remember my late husband Mark on his ninth death anniversary, we explore the often-overlooked emotional weight that happens one day after a special someone dies. I look back on what I learned from the extreme quietness following Mark’s passing and why I continue to embrace gratefulness long after his death. We also uncover why emotional fog is not something you should feel bad about and how to give yourself grace through the immense power of self-care.
I am sharing my experience of loving the same man for 32 years, a mother to two adult children, a retired military officer, a breast cancer survivor, and my connections with others.
Anyone experiencing suicidal thoughts should reach out to a suicide hotline or local emergency number in their country: Psychology Today Suicide Hotlines and Prevention Resources Around the World.
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What To Do A Day After Someone’s Passing
Before we begin, I want to name what this month holds. Through March, I am dedicating the episodes to my late husband, Mark Fornwald. He left this world nine years ago. In fact, yesterday, March 11th, and each episode this month is part of an intentional space of remembrance, reflection, and honesty. These conversations may feel a little different than a typical episode. Some moments are spoken directly to Mark, some communications to you, and some are love continuing out loud. If you are joining mid-month, you are exactly where you need to be. You need to be here. This is not a series that requires catching up. Only presence.
Remembering Mark On The 9th Anniversary Of His Passing
Mark, I am speaking to you and to you again and letting others listen in. Mark, yesterday was the ninth anniversary of your passing. That is hard, the reality of that to me, that it has been nine years since I held your hand, since I heard your voice the day you died, the day you transitioned, the day you left this world. For me, as soon as March hits, I start having underlying anxiety, tension, and just thinking my mind starts playing over the events of what happened leading up to your passing, how we spent time together, the day before we went to the movies, and went out to eat.
The furthest thing from my mind was that I would leave Delaware without you. The events go over in my mind, coming home to home-based guest housing, running up the steps, and us just feeling like we were being kids and hanging out. I left something in the car. We went back down to get it without any fussing. It was just simple. We went out to eat, went to the movies, and finished walking so I could get my required amount of steps for the day.
Never would have thought that that would have been the last time you made love to me, the last time you held me tight. All of those thoughts just come flooding back. It is not as Technicolor as it was originally, but the thoughts and the memories exist. Yes, I took off from work. I cannot work on your death-versary. My mind is drifting off to other places, and it is not fair to the people I work with, nor is it fair to me. I do not think it is fair to you, Mark. It is worth honoring, just like your birthday, to me. This has such a great impact on my life, changed when you left this world.
Do you know how heavy the twelfth still feels? It is like a hangover. It is like the feelings leading up to the day are a lot of stress. The day itself does not always feel that much pressure. The day after is like a balloon releasing just what is left. Maybe I ate too much food, and I am sitting there with that over-gorged feeling. Each part of this timeline impacts me differently. The anxiety is building up is worse than the day before. The day after has that lingering effect.
Maybe like when you had a cold, and you took too much cold medicine, and you sort of have that washed-out feeling, that is what the day after feels like for me. Do you know how my body remembers even when the calendar moves on? I did not know, Mark, until you passed, how much my body would be involved in this grief process.
I literally thought grief was no more than being sad for a certain period of time, and then that sadness would go away. Somewhere or another, I would just drift back into life. I was so wrong. The inability to sleep, the inability to focus, the inability for my body just to behave the way it did before you died, drove me to reading books about grief, talking to therapists, talking to other men and women who had lost spouses to understand, is this how it really feels? It was confirmed to me in so many different ways that this is what grief looks like. I am so grateful for every conversation that I had with every person helping me to lean in and to live in my life in your absence.
If not, I think I would have thought I was crazy. I would have felt like, is it this complicated? Having those conversations with people, not podcasts, but talking to friends who had lost loved ones and understanding on a personal level, this is how it feels. It was validating for me. It helped me understand every therapist session, every conversation I had, to know grief is heavy, and it does impact my body. Do you know how alone the day after can feel? It is like you are in a room full of people, but you feel like you are by yourself. Yes, I have remarried. Yes. Alexander is close by.
Yes, my mom and sister live next door, but there is something different about this world to me that you no longer breathe and work. In the sense of loneliness, I think it resonates more with the idea of a lack of connection with you. There is something that I think will always be missing. That space that you filled in my heart, what our relationship was, and your absence, is gone. That is not replaceable. I love you. Nine years later, I still love you. I always will.
Navigating Grief A Day After A Loved One’s Passing
This part of the conversation is for you, the audience. Naming March 12th as an overlooked day in grief. I want to talk about what that looks like for me and ask you to think about what it looks like for you. A lot of times, we talk about anticipatory grief, getting ready, the idea of this major day coming up. A lot of people understand that. The day that we may be dreading, it may be Mark’s birthday, it may be Father’s Day, or his death-versary.
A lot has not really been given weight to how we feel the day after. I have learned I need self-care the day after. I have learned that I do not have the capacity just to show up the way that I normally do. I did not realize how much the day after impacted me, but nine years later for me, I have learned that that day after requires me to pay attention to myself, how I feel, how I engage, how I operate, and how I show up in life.
I clear my schedule because I do not want to be bothered. I do not have the energy to do it. I am not going to pretend why the day after the milestone is often harder because now, for me, it is officially nine years later. I think about 365 days times nine, how many moments have passed? What have I forgotten about Mark? It was so obvious to me before. What is it about him that is further away now than it was that day?
I am continuing to live life without my husband. I am now older than Mark was when he died. I am continuing to live my life. I know I have his blessing, his permission, because we actually talked about what life would look like in the absence of one of us and what we wanted for the remaining person. Me living, me being remarried, me existing does not take away the love, does not take away the absence of his presence, does not take away the pain of his death. I have learned that duality exists.
Officially, now being nine years old, Mark Fornwald’s widow is heavy. I am of the opinion that I will always be a widow. Some people, you can choose to argue with me on that, but unless he comes back into this world, I am his widow because I was his wife when he took his last breath. I will forever be Mark Fornwald’s widow. Even though I have remarried, I still carry his last name, so that he will always be my husband and I will always be his widow.
Unless you can tell me something different than that, I am not his widow. Please let me know. For nine years, being Mark Fornwald’s widow has been a weight that I will carry my entire life. Reassurance, nothing is wrong with needing recovery times. Please, the one thing I have learned, I cannot do it all. The one thing I have learned, his death impacts me.
I expect twelve years from now, this day may still impact me because it is how I have learned to honor him on his birthday, on Father’s Day, on other different days that have meaning to me, and what my relationship was to Mark. I deserve it. I believe it is worth making the time for that. What that looks like for me, like I said earlier, is clearing my schedule, realizing I do not have the ability to show up, and I am not going to pretend. I take the weight off of myself so I can be free to feel how I feel without having extra responsibilities.
If you feel like you have less energy, you have a lower functioning capability. Consider what it would look like if you removed some of the pressure from your life and allowed yourself to be a little lighter, less responsible, and to focus on yourself. Self-care can look like different things for different people. Self-care may be sleeping in when you normally get up at 4:00 AM. Self-care may be picking up that book that I wanted to read or the audiobook, or going for an extra-long walk to be able to just take in life, fresh air, and the existence of the world around us. Whatever self-care looks like for you, I encourage you to use it for your own well-being.
How does the first day after in 2017 look different than now in 2026? The first day after Mark died, I was in disbelief. I was numb. I was in a hotel on base in Dover, Delaware, on a military installation, waking up with a room full of people that had traveled from Pennsylvania, from Virginia, and New Jersey, and waking up and going, “This was not a bad dream. Mark died yesterday. That really happened.”
If you feel like you have less energy because of grief, consider what it would look like if you remove some of the fresh air from your life to feel a little lighter and focus more on yourself. Share on XI really was in that hospital room, banging on the floor, crawling up on the bed next to his body in disbelief. Yesterday, I really made plans to transport his body from Delaware to Pennsylvania. This really happened. I am about to go home to Pennsylvania and plan my husband’s funeral, devastated.” Disbelief, yet knowing that it was real. At the same time, so grateful for my tribe.
Grateful for my family and friends who showed up for me because I had no capacity to be there myself. I could not drive. I could not talk. I could not function. People were doing things for me, and I was just an observer in my own life, in shock. Remember Jennifer bringing me home, her and Paul bringing my car back, Monica and Jay bringing Mark’s car back, and coming into the house and falling on the floor and thinking, “It will never be the same. This house will never be the same, and I will never be the same woman that I was.”
Being With Mark On His Death
Realizing how fragile life is, how quickly it can change. At the same time, so very grateful that I was there with you, Mark, when you died. You were an amazing father, husband, friend, lover, confidant, and my strength. I am so glad I was there with you. That was your appointed time to leave this world. You deserve to have your wife with you. I am glad that I was there. Nine years later, I am still just as glad that I was there. I think I would have wrestled with so much guilt, so much what ifs, so much wondering what would have happened if I were not there.
Having that closure is a gift that you gave God, I feel like you gave to me to be there for my husband. I look back more now, honoring our love, thinking of our children, the life that we lived together, and how grateful, how grateful I am that I had you in my life for 32 years. You were a gift, and I am so glad that my life included being with you.
How my body reacts then versus now. No sleep. I mean, like zero sleep. Just being up all the time in the middle of the night, just staring at pain, walking up and down the house that we had in Pennsylvania, trying to figure out if the door is locked in the basement or going up and down the stairs, checking this lock, checking that lock, sitting there just wide awake, wondering when I was going to die, if I was going to make it through the year, the anxiety, the stress, the level of fear and just being stressed out wondering, “When will it be my time? Am I going to make it through this year?”
My blood pressure is going up, and all those different things. I moved the elliptical into the front room because I was like, “If I am going to be awake, then let me be grinding.” Both of the kids had left the house. They were in the military, and I was home alone. I am in this 2600 square foot house, wide awake when I would normally be asleep. Blew my mind. How unsettled I was, how in disbelief, and just wondering what my future holds? Everything I had planned in my life was what Mark and I would do. What Mark and Tina would do. I did not even know how to say my name by myself. I was so used to saying Mark and Tina.
When I said Tina, it did not seem like it was enough. I had to tell myself, I am still enough. Telling myself, waking up every day, going, “Tina, Mark, God, you are still alive.” Reminded myself that my existence meant that I had purpose and there was a reason why I was here. Now, I do not wonder those things. I do sleep better. I honor my relationship with Mark, and I am grateful to be able to know I am more stable emotionally. I do not think that when specific days happen because my emotions change, that I am going backwards in my grief. I understand this is part of grieving. I understand that this is what grief looks like for me.
What I Learned From The Quiet
In the beginning, there was so much unknown. I had not read all the books. I had not listened to all the podcasts. I had not spoken to so many mental health professionals. I had not become Dr. Tina Fornwald. There is a lot I have learned. At the same time, I know there is so much more for me to learn on this journey, for me personally. What has quiet taught me? I embrace quietness in a way that I never did before. That chair over there, that is where I spend time snuggling up with a book and reading, and just enjoying the silence. I do not need something in the background.
I do not need different noises going on, just silence. I can sit on the porch and read something and just enjoy the moment that I have because I realize it can be gone so very quickly. I embrace silence in a way that I never did before. I would have needed the radio on or the phone playing something in the background. Silence is a haven for me, and it is good enough.
Why Does Grief Run On Dates
I enjoy it. Next question. Why does grief not run on dates? It is forever for me. I grieve Mark in some form or fashion every day. It looks different because I am different, but those sneaky moments where grief comes in and surprises me, I fell down the steps in my house and had a knee brace, a lot of physical therapy. I was just thinking, “I fell.” I fell down the steps. I sort of grieved my lack of mobility. I learned that grief is not singularly focused on Mark’s death. The different attributes as it relates to grief, I have allowed myself to experience that in any loss that I have had.
Why Emotional Fall Does Not Mean Failure
Before Mark’s death, I would have limited grief to his dying. Now I understand anytime that I am reaching out for something and it does not respond, I am grieving that. I give myself permission and space to understand when it happens, is when it happens. How I feel is how I feel about it. It may be connected to a date, or it may not. Either way, it is fine. Why emotional fog is not failure. You did not even know what the word emotional fog was or grief brain. Understanding that being in a room where my husband had a heart attack, fell on the floor, is traumatic. It is a traumatic situation.
My brain is trying to protect me from the full impact of that traumatic situation. That fogginess is what I have come to realize is my prefrontal cortex shifting how it is operating, and how my amygdala is shifting how it is operating. That fog in my brain is my body naturally, purposefully, intentionally trying to help me out because I feel like I am a computer glitch and going to overload.
We cannot do this. The body, being uniquely designed, already knew how to step in and take care of what I could not do organically. Needed to slow down the pace, remove some of the cognitive skills, and be very baseline minimal because I could not do it all. The body knew that. Part of protecting me was the brain fog. I think it is amazing how we have been created and how we work, and how the brain fog is important.
For me, as life started to shift and the brain fog lifted, it felt to me sort of like when you are in a plane, and your ear starts popping, and you hear differently than what you did before. You did not realize how numb everything was until you realized that you were hearing better. That is what the brain fog was like for me. I could start seeing it lift. What I have learned when I go through these death-versaries, or different timelines, is that fog returns. Before the first time it happened, I was like, “All the coping skills, all the different things I have been doing, my grief is not working. I am backwards.” I realized that is not the case.
Difference Between Healing And Whiskey Sours
The trauma is starting to creep up, and the brain is doing what it does to help protect me. I embrace it now. I consider it a signal. “Clear your schedule, Tina. What is going on, what dates are happening, what have you missed?” I take special attention to make sure that I am doing that. What does healing actually look like now versus then? Whiskey sours.
I had way too many whiskey sours that first year, but I had a bartender on tap who was making sure that it was A-okay. After the first year, I did not need them so much. For me, this year, what it looks like more is being honest about how much I miss Mark, how much I love him, how much I was devastated.
Still, parts of me are when our daughter got married, and her dad was not there. When our son turned 25, his dad was not there. Knowing that there will always be something in my life that will cue in that Mark Fornwald is not here to celebrate or enjoy this moment, but I can bring his memory. I can bring who he is into the conversation.
Permission to rest instead of being strong. At the beginning of this conversation, I mentioned how I thought that you had to just be sad when you were grieving, and the grief was just about sadness. I also thought that you were supposed to be strong for your children, that you would maybe be a step Army woman in me, that I am supposed to be strong for Katherine and Alexander, that I am supposed to hold up and be with my shoulders back and be in there.
I was like, “I cannot do that. My whole husband died.” I have nothing but tears and lamenting and going, “How did we get here?” Even though that concept, I wanted to be strong outwardly, I realize now I do not have energy for that. If I am sad, I am sad. If I am crying, I am crying. On top of it, I cried so much that I did not want to have those little tissues on me. I found a pack of handkerchiefs that Mark owns. He had never opened them. These were my cry cloths because I was like, “I am going to cry.” I remembered one day, I did not have to cry as much as I did.
I do not remember the timeline, but I just remember not having to keep these handkerchiefs all the time. I was prepared in an instant to bring them back out if it was necessary, because this is hard. This is one of the most difficult things I have experienced in my entire life. Good gosh, I am going to be crying. I am going to be out there with all of my emotions because my husband died.
I do not have time for one-line platitudes, or people feel like they are giving me help. Do not have time for any of that. I am more willing to openly show my emotions to whosoever than try to look like I am being strong. If you have questions, let me know. Mark, I made it through another one. I made it through the ninth year of the anniversary of your passing. I have learned to be gentle with myself. I have learned to be gentle with the kids.
I have learned that I carry you, Mark, differently in my heart than I did before. I am so grateful. I cannot say it enough how grateful I am that you were in my life, that you were my husband, that we had life together. I am so glad that we talked about what one of our lives would look like in the absence of the other.
I love you, Mark Fornwald, and I am so grateful. As I close, I want to return this space to you, Mark. Thank you for the love that continues even as it changes shape. Thank you for the ways you still walk with me through memory, meaning, and presence. To those tuning in, thank you for sharing this time with me. I hope you feel less alone and more permitted to honor your love in whatever way feels right. We will continue holding this space together throughout the rest of March.
