After my husband's first death anniversary ended, I was alone with a male relative when he suddenly confessed, "I've actually loved you for a long time," forcefully embraced me, and kissed me. My body reacted to the first kiss in ages, and I couldn't resist—I was overwhelmed right there, pleasured repeatedly in front of my husband's memorial portrait, climaxing over and over. I still can't forget the confusion I felt in that moment, and the sensation of being consumed by his words.