OK, yesterday was my first anniversary after my wife died, and what I'm going to say isn't what anyone wants to hear: it went well and I had fun. Hell, that's not what I want to hear. If I had fun on my anniversary with my wife being dead, doesn't that mean I didn't love her or something? Shouldn't I've been crying all day camped out at her grave with a crate of kleenex?
Well, I did cry. A lot, throughout the day. I did also did visit her grave and bawl my eyeballs out there. I had quite a few dark moments throughout the day, which I fully expected. But it didn't stop me from having a good time at other points. A highlight was meeting with one of my wife's best friends / bridesmaids at the park I got married in. It was the perfect way to start such a shitty day: talking about my wife with someone who knew and loved her (almost!) as well as I did.
This all goes along with my cynicism: I expected awful feelings all day. I ended up having some unexpected good feelings, too. Like I was heading to my scheduled execution, but then the executioner told me I had a lovely smile and great hair. And I didn't die. My personal advice for trying to prepare for a grief: always, always expect the worst, but graciously accept it if and when things fail to meet that expectation.
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I hope you brought enough comment to share with the whole class!