Grief sucks. There is nothing that prepared me for the loss of my husband. Although he was older than I,  my denial of the possibility of being pre-deceased held steady. Afterall, he was healthy and freakishly strong — an athlete by temperament and training. Even a little discipline from time to time. With the exception of the annual fried baloney sandwich and pretzels for Steelers games, some of his self-care habits still reflected that history. No smoking. No drinking. Regular exercise. We often joked that those…