First off, thank you for allowing me to share with you in a deep raw and vulnerable way about the loss of my husband and my personal grief.
If you’ve followed me for a while, you know my life took a turn I never expected when I lost my husband, Quintin. Losing him shattered me in ways I can’t even fully put into words. As a mom of four, I didn’t have the option to stop. Life didn’t pause for me. I still had kids to feed, schedules to manage, and responsibilities that didn’t go away just because my heart broke.
But grief has a way of teaching you things you never wanted to learn. It changes you — not just in the obvious ways, but in the tiny, unseen moments too.
When Quintin passed away, I quickly realized grief wasn’t something I could “get over.” I have known him longer than anyone else in my life. He was not only my lover, the father of my children, he was my best friend. Grief wasn’t a season with a clear start and end date. Instead, it became a part of me, woven into the fabric of my life. And while I would give anything to have him back, I’ve learned lessons in this valley that I carry with me today.
I want to share 10 things grief has taught me — in hopes that maybe, just maybe, they’ll resonate with you too. If you’re grieving a spouse, a parent, a child, a friend, or even the loss of a dream or season of life… please know you’re not alone.
1- You can feel two things at once
Grief showed me that you can be completely broken and still grateful to be alive. There are days when I wake up with tears in my eyes, but I also hear my kids laughing in the kitchen — and in that moment, I feel both sorrow and gratitude. It’s complicated, but that’s the truth of grief.
2 – There is no “right” way to grieve
When Quintin first passed, I thought maybe there was a formula or a checklist. Cry for a while, move on, feel better. But grief doesn’t work that way. Some days I feel strong. Other days I can barely function. Both are normal. Both are valid.
No one’s grief journey looks the same — and that’s okay.
3 – Time doesn’t heal everything
People love to say, “time heals all wounds.” But honestly? It doesn’t. Time doesn’t erase the pain. What time does is teach you how to carry it. It softens the edges just enough for you to keep walking forward. And honestly it is what you do with your time that helps you to heal.
4- Triggers come out of nowhere
The first time I walked into a Chiefs game after Quintin’s death, I thought I could handle it. But then a memory hit me like a wave, and I couldn’t breathe. That’s the thing about grief triggers — they sneak up when you least expect them. And that’s okay. You don’t have to rush past those moments. Sometimes you just have to stop, feel it, and let the tears fall.
5 – You don’t have to explain your pain
Not everyone will understand what you’re going through, and you don’t owe anyone an explanation. Grief is deeply personal. Sometimes silence speaks louder than words.
6- People will surprise you
This was one of the hardest lessons. Some people I thought would be there… weren’t. Others I never expected to step up became my lifeline. Grief has a way of revealing who’s truly in your corner. This one is really hard. Honestly, there can be a lot of disappointment that can easily turn into bitterness. You will have to give others a ton of grace, but also remember to give yourself grace in the process.
7 – Some days will feel unbearable
There are mornings when I wonder how I’ll make it through the day. But then I do. I breathe through one moment, then the next. And at night, I realize I survived another day without him — and that’s its own kind of victory.
8- Grief lives in the body
I had no idea how physical grief would feel. The exhaustion. The heaviness in my chest. The tears that come without warning. I’ve learned to give my body grace: rest, cry, move, repeat. That cycle has carried me more than once. AND PRAY!! God wants to shoulder this pain with you. The weight of Death is something we were never meant to carry my friend.
9- Joy can exist beside pain
This lesson took me the longest to accept. At first, I felt guilty any time I laughed or felt joy. How could I be happy when Quintin isn’t here? But I’ve learned that joy doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten him. It simply means I’m allowing myself to live fully, even in the midst of my loss and if I am being honest, this is exactly what Quintin would want for me- for me to find JOY again!
10 – Grieving is not weakness
Grief doesn’t make me weak. In fact, it’s one of the strongest things I’ve ever had to endure. Continuing to love Quintin while learning to live without him is the hardest, bravest thing I’ve ever done.
The Love That Never Left
I never wanted these lessons. I never wanted to know what it’s like to be a widow raising four kids. But here I am — carrying both the pain and the love. Because the love didn’t leave. That part remains forever.
If you’re grieving, I want you to know something important: you are not alone.
I see you. I feel your pain. And even though our stories may look different, we share the same ache of missing someone we love.
Words of Encouragement for the Grieving Heart
If you’ve read this far, I want to leave you with a reminder: grief is not linear. You don’t have to rush healing. You don’t have to apologize for the days you can’t get out of bed. You don’t have to explain why a song, a smell, or a memory completely undoes you.
Grief is love with nowhere to go. And as painful as it is, it’s also proof of the deep love you carry.
Prayer, Journaling and scripture has helped me to stay encouraged and have hope in my deepest darkest days. I am trying to turn my pain into purpose and am trying to encourage while encouraging myself to stay ROOTED in HIM this is the name of my new Grief Journal available NOW HERE. We kicked off the prelaunch of the grief journal with an event where others could come and get encouraged, connected and filled up together.
Are you in a Grieving Season? Let’s Talk About It
This space isn’t just about me — it’s about us. If you’re walking through grief, I’d love to hear your heart:
- What is one lesson grief has taught you?
- Do you resonate with one of these ten truths?
- Or maybe you’re supporting someone who’s grieving — what have you learned in that role?
Your comments matter. Your story matters. And I believe that when we share, we remind each other that none of us have to walk this road alone.
So please, drop a comment below. Let’s encourage one another.
How is it You found this grief side of the Crazy Busy Mama Blog?
For those of you finding this blog through search, welcome. Whether you typed in “how to cope with grief,” “grief lessons,” “healing after loss,” “encouragement for widows,” or “living with grief,” I hope you found comfort here.
Grief is messy. It’s unpredictable. But it can also be a teacher.
If you’re struggling right now, I encourage you to bookmark this page and come back whenever you need a reminder that you’re not alone. And if this post encouraged you, share it with a friend who might need the same encouragement.
Together, we can build a community that reminds grieving hearts: you are not broken, you are brave.
💬 Now it’s your turn — share your grief lessons in the comments. Let’s walk this journey together.
Much Love- Lori
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I love following your story, we have a lot of similarities as I have four children as well but they are a bit younger than yours, ranging from one year to eight years old when he died. Sadly, he took his life after struggling for six months after someone hit him on his motorcycle, and he suffered from severe traumatic brain injuries, which completely changed him through and through. My first husband also passed away in a car wreck when I was in my 20s, but being older and having children with someone is completely different with this loss as he really was my best friend and soulmate.
Grief is still teaching me. It has taught me so much and one of the most important things probably is to genuinely not take things for granted, especially the little things, the simple things that truly means so much.
Always praying and rooting for you and your family, Lori!
Oh my goodness… I’m just sitting with this for a minute because your story holds so much. I am so incredibly sorry. To walk through *that kind* of loss once is unimaginable… and then again, in such a different and deeply personal way, with your children in the middle of it all… that is a weight not many people can truly understand.
What you said about this loss being different because he was your best friend and soulmate… that hits so deeply. When it’s the person you built a life with, raised babies with, shared the everyday with… the absence touches *everything*. There’s no part of life it doesn’t reach.
And the layer of what he went through after the accident… watching someone you love change like that, grieving pieces of them while they’re still here, and then losing them… that is its own kind of heartbreak. I just want you to know I see that, and it matters.
But I also see something really beautiful in what you shared… that even through all of this, grief is still *teaching* you. That perspective of not taking the little things for granted… that is so powerful, and I know that didn’t come easy. That came through walking through fire.
I’m really grateful you shared this here, because I know there are other women reading who feel alone in complicated grief, in layered loss, in raising young children while carrying it all… and your words remind them they’re not the only one.
I’m praying for you too. Truly. For strength in the everyday, for moments of peace in the chaos, and for continued healing in places that still ache.
If you’re open to sharing… what are some of those “little things” that mean the most to you now? I think that could be really special for others to read and hold onto too 🤍
I’m also into a full year without my Honey! Bob was my rock and full of faith…I have learned I too can have strong faith like him. Life doesn’t stop especially with a teenage son. I’ve learned my grief and my children at home and grown is not the same. But we have a common thread, we all loved him so much. Yes, giving yourself grace to find joy again. I now feel I can still have life and life more abundantly just like the word of God says. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss Bob, but we still have a life to live for God doing His work until Jesus calls me home so I may be reunited with my Honey
What a beautiful reflection of faith and love for your husband. Here is a warm, personal response you could leave on your blog that fits your voice and encourages her:
Thank you so much for sharing this with me. I’m so sorry you are walking this road too, but I can feel the love you still carry for Bob through your words. One year is such a tender milestone in grief, and the way you are honoring him while still choosing to live the life God has in front of you is really powerful.
I relate so much to what you said about grief looking different for each person in the family. As moms, it can feel like we are holding our own grief while also watching our children carry theirs, and sometimes those journeys don’t look the same. But that common thread of love is such a beautiful way to describe it. The love doesn’t disappear just because they’re gone.
I also love what you said about discovering your own strong faith. Sometimes the people we love leave behind more than memories. They leave behind a faith that keeps growing in us long after they’re gone. What a gift Bob gave you and your children through that.
And you’re so right. Finding joy again doesn’t mean we miss them any less. It just means we are still living the life God has given us here until the day we see them again. That hope of reunion is such a powerful anchor.
Thank you for taking the time to share your story here. I know there are other widows reading these comments who will feel less alone because of it. 💛
It’s been 23 months and 2 days that I losy My Robert unexpectedly. The hardest thing for me has been making all the decisions without Him. yes, I talk things over with him, but the ultimate decision falls on my 2 shoulders. I know hecwoukd want me to be happy, smiling and loving. I am at times but as you said, when the grief hits, it hits hard. I know without a doubt I’ll see and be with him again we were married 54 years and together 57 years. There were great times and yes there were some not so great times but we made it work together. I can honestly say that we never went to sleep mad. we always talked it through andclnwentvt to sleep happy. I’m 77 years old and miss My Robert every day, every minute, every second. I do know he would want me to move forward and I’m trying. I guess we all have our good days and not so good. The more you love the harder grief is. I’ll take loving him all day every day.
Thank you so much for sharing this. Reading about the life you and Robert built together is so beautiful. Fifty four years of marriage and fifty seven years together is such a rare and incredible kind of love. You can feel how deeply you loved each other in the way you talk about him.
What you said about making decisions on your own really resonated with me. That is one of the hardest parts of losing your person. Even when we still talk to them in our hearts, the weight of those decisions suddenly feels so heavy when it all rests on our shoulders. That is a kind of loneliness that only someone who has lost their spouse truly understands.
I also love that you shared how you and Robert never went to bed mad and always worked things through. That says so much about the kind of partnership you had. Real love isn’t perfect, but it’s choosing each other again and again through the good days and the hard ones. What a beautiful example you both lived out.
You are so right when you said the more you love, the harder grief is. That is the price of a great love. And a love that lasted nearly six decades like yours doesn’t just disappear. It stays woven into every part of your life.
I can hear your strength in the way you are trying to move forward while still honoring him. That is all any of us can do in this journey. Some days we carry it well, and some days the grief hits hard just like you said. Both kinds of days are part of loving someone deeply.
Thank you for sharing a piece of your story here. Your love for Robert is still so present, and I know it encourages others reading these comments who are walking the same road. And what a beautiful hope we share in knowing that one day we will see them again. 💛
it has been over a year since my sweetheart of 66 years of marriage went to heaven. It was on Veterans day 2024 that the Lord took my Veteran to be with Him.
The grief is still very much in my every moment of my days. Nights seem.to be the worst in missing him, the chats, hugs and the good nights.
So many things daily happen to bring tears, grocery shopping when I.see his favorite cereal in the cereal aisle or see the chocolate milk that he loved.
Also at church, miss him in the church band playing his bass.guitar, seeing his replacement makes me teary eyed.
With so many years together I feel so lost and alone even with family near me.
I will see him.again at God’s appointed time,
I have my trust in the Lord that He will be my comfort and supply my every need through this time in my life.
It has taken me awhile to be able to put into words the fact that I lost my husband of 33 years married in June 2025. He was my best friend as well. I have one son, age 26 and he has taken it hard. He tries not to show it but a mother knows. I can relate to all ten of your lessons learned especially the one about who you expect to be of help and they disappear. This was heart breaking on its own. I was warned of this but thought I knew better. Quite the lesson. I am trying to get back to my new life without my husband taking it one day at a time. I retired at the same time I lost him so many changes have occurred but I’ll make it with the grace of God.
I’m so sorry… 33 years is a lifetime of love, memories, rhythms, and “just knowing” each other. There aren’t words big enough for that kind of loss 🤍
The way you described him—your husband and your best friend—you can feel how deep that bond was. And of course your son is taking it hard… even when they try to be strong, a mother always knows. There’s a different kind of ache in watching your child grieve too.
What you said about people showing up (or not showing up) is so real. That part can catch you off guard and add another layer of hurt you never expected. It’s a hard lesson… but it also slowly reveals the few who will walk this road with you.
Losing your husband and stepping into retirement at the same time… that’s so much change all at once. No wonder it feels like learning a whole new life. And yet, the way you said “I’ll make it with the grace of God”—that right there is your anchor.
One day at a time is exactly how you do this. Some days it might even be one hour at a time… and that still counts.
I’m so glad you shared this. You’re not alone in these feelings, even though it can feel isolating. I’m praying for you—for strength, for moments of peace in the middle of the waves, and for God to gently carry you through each new step 🤍
I haven’t lost a husband but I’ve lost so much family. My mom my dad my brothers (2) my oldest sister. I miss my sister so much and my mom. The silent reminders as I’m working. The foods of a memory that make me cry and crying when I didn’t even know I was crying. The tears were just there. I’m sorry I don’t miss the men in my life but I sure do miss my mom and my sister. Only the Lord can see my pain and heartbreak of missing my mom and sister. Gosh I miss telling them things and sharing and laughing and a hugs. Their voices! Yes it is hard but I’ve learned to handle things on my own. Talk to my other sister more. God has timing and sometimes it’s hard to accept his timing but I know I can be here to encourage my sister and brothers (2). That are left. They are not Christians. So maybe I can encourage them and have more time for the 3 that are left in my family.
Thanks for sharing May the Lord bless you for helping us out here who do feel alone! 🤗❤️🙏
From
Austin Manitoba Canada
Oh friend… my heart just aches reading this ❤️ You have carried so much loss. Losing your mom, your sister, your brothers, your dad… that is such a heavy amount of grief for one heart to hold. And the way you described it is exactly how grief feels sometimes — the silent reminders, the tears showing up before you even realize they’re there, the memories tied to foods, voices, laughter, hugs, ordinary moments. Those are the pieces that stay with us so deeply.
I especially felt what you said about missing telling them things. That ache of wanting to pick up the phone, share a story, hear their voice, or laugh with them one more time is so incredibly real. Grief changes us forever.
But even through all of that pain, I can still see your heart for others shining through this message. The way you want to encourage your remaining siblings and point them toward the Lord says so much about your strength and faith. Sometimes the people who have walked through the deepest heartbreak become the safest place for others to land because they truly understand compassion.
Thank you for sharing your story with me all the way from Manitoba, Canada ❤️ Please know your words mattered deeply to me today. I truly believe the Lord sees every tear you cry for your mom and sister, even the quiet ones nobody else notices.
Sending you so much love and praying God continues to hold you close through all of it 🤗❤️🙏
My husband died about two weeks before Christmas in 2023. He left behind a daughter and his son and a grandson and me of course. The grief is roll and real and sometimes I have a hard time functioning each day. I do see a counselor virtual only had a few sessions so far I’m grateful for my children and grandchildren, but I also feel so lonely. I also feel bad for my 18 year-old grandson he’s lived with us since he was 2 1/2 and my husband was really his daddy and his grandfather at the same time. I feel like I’m not there for him and that’s not fair to either one of us. I need to know how to go past that I’m struggling, taking care of me and now I’m emotionally. I have to be there for my grandson. I feel guilty that I’m not there for him like I should be. It didn’t start right after my husband die. it was a year and a half later I guess when the dust settle so did I.
I’m so sorry… everything you just shared makes so much sense 🤍
There is nothing “wrong” with you—this is what deep love and deep loss actually looks like when the shock wears off.
That part you said—“when the dust settled… so did I”—that’s real grief.
In the beginning, you’re in survival mode. Then later, when things quiet down, the weight hits differently. He’s still gone… but now there’s space to feel it more fully.
And the loneliness… that’s one of the hardest parts no one prepares you for.
About your grandson—please hear this gently:
you are not failing him.
You’re both grieving the same person in different ways. He didn’t just lose a grandfather—he lost a father figure, his safe place. And you didn’t just lose a husband—you lost your partner, your person, your everyday life.
Grief can make you feel like you’re not “showing up enough,” but sometimes just being there—even quietly, even imperfectly—is more than enough.
A couple gentle thoughts that might help you move forward without adding pressure:
* You don’t have to be “strong” for him… you can be real with him.
Something as simple as: “I miss him too. I know this is hard for both of us.”
That actually gives him permission to open up.
* Connection doesn’t have to be big or perfect.
Sitting together, watching something, eating a meal, even just checking in with “How are you doing today?”—those small moments matter more than you think.
* Guilt is trying to tell you you’re not doing enough…
but grief says you’re doing the best you can with a broken heart.
You also said something really important—you’re in counseling. That’s huge. Keep going. That’s you taking care of yourself, and that is part of showing up for him too.
And one more thing…
you don’t have to choose between taking care of you or being there for your grandson. Those things actually go together. The more gently you care for yourself, the more capacity you’ll have for him.
You are still a safe place for him—even in your grief.
And you’re allowed to take this one day… one moment at a time.
I’m really glad you shared this. You’re not alone in this, even if it feels like it 🤍
Wow !yes to all of it I’m broken ,I’m scared ,I feel guilty if I laugh ,but I keep going .the night my darling husband died I was lying next to him in bed I told him that I would be with him soon and he said NO not yet and he passed soon after that.it amazes me how many things all of a sudden broke ,my oven,aircon,hot water system,both toilets and taps ,thank goodness my son-in-law is a tradesman so he gave me some contacts to ring and he also rang some for me .and my son is so helpful mowing the lawn ( I’ve got a big yard) both my daughters are awesome,one talks to me every night and my youngest is always involving me with everything that her kids are doing ( my grandkids) my dearest friend unfortunately lives too far but she rings me all the time . And I’ve got a wonderful neighbour she came over weekly at first now just every now and then but that’s fine I know she’s just across the road if I need anything, My brother lost his wife 2 weeks before my husband so we call each other regularly,we both just cry but we know how each other is feeling.I’m not looking forward to Christmas this year it’s only been 6 months since Tolly passed it’s funny in his last month he wanted to be called by his proper name Anatoli.I’ll miss him forever,but I know I’ll see him again
Wow… thank you for trusting me with all of that 🤍
What you shared about that moment with him… “not yet”… that’s something you carry forever. There’s so much love in that. Even in his last breath, he was still looking out for you… still telling you to keep living. That matters more than you probably even realize right now.
And everything breaking after… I’ve heard that from so many people, and lived it too—it’s like the weight of loss spills into everything. It feels overwhelming, almost symbolic. But look at you… you handled it. And not alone.
As I read what you wrote, I don’t see someone who’s alone—I see someone who is deeply loved:
* your son-in-law stepping in and helping
* your son showing up and caring for things
* your daughters staying close and connected
* your grandkids pulling you into life
* your friend calling even from far away
* your neighbor showing up when it mattered most
* your brother walking this grief road with you
That doesn’t take away the pain of losing Anatoli… not even close. But it’s a reminder that you are still surrounded, still held—even in the middle of heartbreak.
And that feeling of guilt when you laugh… that’s grief too.
It can make joy feel wrong, like you’re leaving him behind. But you’re not. You carry him with you into those moments. Love doesn’t end when life does.
Christmas… it’s okay to not be ready for it. Six months is so fresh. You don’t have to do it the way you always have. You can keep it simple, step away when you need to, even create something small and meaningful just for him. There’s no “right way” to do it this year.
And the way you said his name… Anatoli.
That’s beautiful. It sounds like he was coming back to himself in those last days… and now you carry that part of him forward.
“I’ll miss him forever, but I know I’ll see him again.”
That right there… that’s love and faith holding hands.
You’re broken, yes. You’re scared, yes.
But you’re also still here… still loving, still showing up, still taking steps forward even when they’re heavy.
And that matters more than you know 🤍
I lost my husband almost 11 months ago. It is a long road. Some days I feel I’m making progress, other days I have set backs. That, my friend is grieving. I keep moving forward and try to find joy in each day. We are in the Christmas season, and I’m finding it has triggered a lot of tears. I try to remember all of our precious Christmas before his death. I was prepared for these emotional ambushes. I attended Grief Share, which was very beneficial for me!
I have learned I can do a lot of things I never even thought about doing. I maintain my home, mow and trim 1 1/4 acre lawn, plumber, mechanic etc.
I have a lot of support from friends and family. I have found many people are uncomfortable with tears. They have not been in my shoes. At some point they will understand. I only pray I can be the support that they will need at that time.
God has left me on this earth for a reason. I need to make the most of it. Until I meet my husband again in Heaven, I will continue on.
Thank you so much for sharing this. Eleven months is still such a tender place in grief, and everything you described is so real. Those days where you feel like you’re moving forward and then the days where it feels like the grief rushes back in… that truly is what grieving looks like. It’s not a straight line.
The holidays especially can bring those emotional ambushes. Christmas carries so many memories, traditions, and moments that were shared with the person we love. It’s beautiful that you are holding onto those precious Christmas memories with your husband, even when they bring tears. Those tears are such a reflection of a love that is still very much alive.
I also smiled reading the part about everything you’ve learned to do. Grief has a way of forcing us to discover strength we never even knew we had. Mowing 1¼ acres, fixing things around the house, becoming the plumber and mechanic… those are the quiet victories people don’t always see. But they matter so much.
You are also so right about how uncomfortable people can be with tears. Most people simply don’t understand until they’ve walked through a loss themselves. But your heart to one day be that support for someone else who is grieving says so much about the kind of person you are.
I love the way you ended your message too. That perspective of knowing God still has a purpose for you here is such a powerful anchor in the middle of grief. We keep moving forward, carrying the love with us, until the day we see them again.
Thank you for sharing your heart here. I know there are others reading these comments who will feel less alone because of your words. 💛
This Thursday will be 3 weeks my husband was laid to rest. It been hard navigating without him here. We have 2 amazing son’s. My oldest is 26 and my youngest is 23. Not only did I lose my husband they lost their dad. The man that encourage them everyday to work hard and always have confidence in all they do. My youngest son decided to quit college. He was a senior this year. I feel so guilty that he decide to quit college to help run his dad’s business. My oldest is an engineer and he’s thinking of quitting his job to help run his dad’s business. I have never felt so anxious in my life. Our lives has taken a 360 turn and my husband isn’t here to navigate. It scares me to keep moving forward and not knowing if we are making the right choices. My husband and I we were a team together now it’s just me navigating. That scares me. My other half not being here to help.
I don’t know how you came across my feeds but I glad I decided to watch you. I hope you are doing well and I’m sending my prayers.
Patricia- I am so sorry! My oldest son came home from being away at school, so I can relate to your mom guilt. But as you know, not only did you lose your best friend and husband your boys lost their father and your boys will grieve differently in their own ways and there is no wrong way to grieve. His decision to run his dads business, I am sure was not made lightly and he is trying to figure out his own path and honor his father the best way he knows how and that very well may be it. Who knows long term, but I am sure it providing purpose and peace for him in this difficult season. You are an amazing mother who wants the best for her boys it’s only natural you would feel this way, but I know God is working on their behalf and yours to make all things GOOD <3 I understand what you mean about feeling like every decision you make you question wether or not it is the right one. It's so hard. Please know that every decision you make now going forward has to be the decision that works best for you NOW. This is something that I have had to remind myself of time and time again. It may not be the decision your hubby would have made, but it is the it is the best one for you in your season of life now. I find it no coincidence we have connected- just goes to show Gods goodness and continued faithfulness. Lean into the hard, allow God to carry you...chin up you are loved and never alone my new friend.
Grief has taught me I can do hard things…I dont like to, but I can. Coming up on 2 years Oct 25…we were high school sweethearts,married at 18, and married 41 years. I was 59 when I lost my person,my true north, kids grown, grandchildren…in a season of growth and now what. Thank you for your willingness to share your life and your grief. I ordered your journal, looking forward to digging in.
Thank you so much for sharing a piece of your story with me. “I can do hard things… I don’t like to, but I can” is such an honest way to describe grief. None of us would ever choose this road, but somehow we keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Forty one years together and high school sweethearts… that kind of love becomes woven into every part of your life. Losing your person, your true north, after building that much history together leaves such a deep space. And when the kids are grown and you thought you were stepping into a new season of life together, the “now what” can feel especially heavy.
Coming up on two years can bring a lot of emotions too. Those milestones have a way of reminding us just how much has changed, but also how much love still remains.
Thank you for trusting me enough to walk alongside me here. It means more than you know that you’re reading the journal, and I truly hope it feels like sitting down with a friend who understands some of the places your heart has been.
I’m praying that as you go through it, God meets you right in this season and gently reminds you that your story is still unfolding, even after such a great love. 💛