When I got my news, I couldn't wait to get off the phone with that goddamn nurse and cry my eyes out. She blabbed on for what seemed to be hours as my face slowly turned red and my eyes welled up. The second thing I did, after bawling like a child, was call my husband. His initial reaction was to yell "FUCK!!!!" as loud as I've ever heard him say it.
I drag through the next day like some kind of zombie on downers. That evening, I race home as fast as I can to commence another session of unabashed wailing. My husband gets home and proceeds to slam every door, yell at the dog, and otherwise just act very pissed off.
We grieve very differently. We are a sad, mad, sorry mess-of-a-couple.