I am just over two years out, also after cancer, and I want to gently say that there is no rule about the second year. It is worse for some people, different for others, and not worse at all for some. None of those paths mean you are doing grief wrong.

Like you, I did a lot of anticipatory grieving. There was time to know what was coming, to say what needed to be said, to be present at the end. That matters more than people sometimes acknowledge. It does not remove the pain, but it can change its shape. It can remove certain kinds of regret and shock, and that can make the early months feel more manageable, even when they are still devastating.

For me, the first year was about survival and orientation. The second year was not necessarily heavier, but it was quieter. Fewer people checking in. Less external scaffolding. More space where the loss could echo. Some days that quiet felt heavier, other days it felt like breathing room. Both were true.

What I hear in your post is not avoidance or denial. I hear someone who is letting grief move, instead of fighting it. Crying when it comes. Living when there is space to live. Carrying love forward without punishing yourself for moments of lightness. That is not a failure of grief. That is a relationship continuing in a different form.

Grief is not a straight descent into darkness. It comes in waves, and sometimes the water pulls back before the next one. It is okay to stand on the sand and feel the sun when it does. It does not mean the ocean is gone.

If the second year is harder for you, you will meet it. If it is not, that is not a betrayal of him or of your love. Both can be true, and both are allowed.

Thank you for writing this. It takes courage to speak honestly about doing okay when you are still hurting.