Finding Hope, Gratitude, and Ground to Stand On When Life Is Forever Changed
The calendar flips.
The world cheers.
And somehow… you’re still standing in the same ache.
A new year has a way of making grief feel louder.
Everyone else seems ready to “move forward,” to declare resolutions and fresh starts, while you’re quietly asking yourself how it’s possible that time keeps going when the person you love is still gone.
Or maybe the grief you’re carrying isn’t tied to death at all.
Maybe it’s the loss of a marriage you thought would last forever.
The loss of health.
The loss of a dream.
The loss of the version of yourself you used to be.
The loss of certainty.
The loss of safety.
Grief is not one-size-fits-all.
And it doesn’t follow the calendar.
As I step into another new year without my Q, I keep coming back to something I shared in my milestone blog, “A Full Year Without Q: Grief, Growth, and the Sacred Work of Carrying On.” That year taught me this truth:
Grief doesn’t end.
It evolves.
And so do we.
If you’re reading this, I want you to pause for just a moment and breathe.
You are not behind.
You are not doing this wrong.
And you are not alone.
If you feel able, I want to gently encourage you to comment as you read—even if it’s just one sentence, one word, or a simple “me too.”
When we speak our grief out loud, it becomes lighter to carry. And your words might be the exact thing another hurting heart needs to read today.
Grief Isn’t Just the Loss of a Person
One of the hardest lessons grief has taught me is this:
Even when the loss is a death, what we grieve is so much more than the absence of a body.
When I lost Q, I didn’t just lose my husband.
I lost:
- The life I thought we were building
- The future plans we talked about late at night
- The way I used to see myself
- The sense of safety that came with “we” instead of “me”
- The version of motherhood I imagined raising kids alongside him
Grief is layered.
And it shows up in ways we don’t always expect.
That’s why I want to say this clearly: grief doesn’t require a funeral.
You can grieve:
- A divorce
- A diagnosis
- A child leaving home
- A dream that died quietly
- A friendship that changed
- A season that will never come back
If that resonates with you, you belong here too.
And if you feel comfortable, I’d love for you to comment:
👉 What are you grieving as this new year begins?
Naming it matters.
Carrying On Doesn’t Mean Carrying It Alone
In that first year without Q, I learned that “carrying on” isn’t about being strong or pretending you’re okay.
It’s about finding small, faithful ways to keep showing up—sometimes hour by hour—while allowing God to meet you right in the middle of your brokenness.
As we step into a new year, especially for those of us navigating widowhood or deep loss, I want to share three tangible ways to move forward gently, intentionally, and with grace.
Not as rules.
Not as pressure.
But as anchors.
1. Choose Gratitude—Even When It Feels Impossible
(The Most Transformative Practice in Grief)
Let me be honest.
Gratitude in grief can feel offensive at first.
When everything has been taken from you, being told to “be thankful” can feel like salt in a wound. I wrestled with this deeply. But over time, I realized something powerful:
Gratitude doesn’t deny pain—it keeps pain from defining everything.
Gratitude is not pretending things are okay.
It’s choosing to notice what still is.
Some days, gratitude looked like:
- The kids laughing at the dinner table
- A warm cup of coffee I didn’t have to rush through
- The fact that I got out of bed
- A text from someone who remembered my loss
- God’s presence when words failed
Scripture reminds us:
“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”
— 1 Thessalonians 5:18
Notice it doesn’t say for all circumstances.
It says in them.
Gratitude became the practice that slowly softened the sharp edges of my grief. It didn’t remove the ache—but it made room for light to coexist with sorrow.
One practical way I’ve leaned into this is through daily gratitude journaling, which is why I created my grief journal. It’s not about filling pages with positivity—it’s about giving your heart a safe place to land. You can grab a “ROOTED IN HIM” journal HERE. It isn't just for death it is for grief.
If you’re reading this and thinking, I don’t even know what I’m grateful for right now, start small.
Gratitude can sound like:
- “I survived today.”
- “God carried me when I couldn’t carry myself.”
- “I felt seen.”
If this resonates, I’d love for you to comment with one thing you’re grateful for today—no matter how small. Your words may help someone else find theirs.
2. Give Yourself Permission to Grieve the Loss of Who You Were
THIS ONE IS HARD!!
This one took me longer to recognize.
Grief didn’t just change my life—it changed me.
I had to mourn:
- The wife I was
- The woman who assumed tomorrow was promised
- The version of myself who felt secure in her future
And here’s the truth we don’t talk about enough:
You are allowed to grieve the person you were before loss.
Scripture speaks to this transformation:
“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing!”
— Isaiah 43:18–19
This verse doesn’t mean erasing the past.
It means honoring it without being trapped there.
In the new year, I stopped asking myself, “Why am I not who I used to be?”
And started asking, “Who is God shaping me into now?”
Practically, this looked like:
- Letting go of expectations I could no longer meet
- Redefining success in smaller, gentler ways
- Giving myself grace on days I felt undone
If you’re struggling with the version of yourself you see now, please hear this:
You are not broken. You are becoming.
If you feel led, comment below with one thing you’re learning about yourself in this season. Growth often comes wrapped in grief.
3. Invite God Into the Ordinary Moments
In grief, the big spiritual moments can feel distant. But God met me most powerfully in the ordinary.
In making dinner.
In folding laundry alone.
In sitting in silence.
Scripture promises:
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
— Psalm 34:18
God didn’t ask me to have it all figured out.
He just asked me to keep showing up.
In this new year, I stopped waiting to feel “whole” before leaning into faith. I invited God into the mess.
Practically, this looked like:
- Whispered prayers instead of perfect ones
- Scripture written on sticky notes
- Letting my grief journal become a place of conversation with God
- Allowing faith to coexist with doubt
If prayer feels hard right now, you’re not alone. Even a simple, “God, I need You,” is enough.
If this spoke to you, consider commenting “me too.” Sometimes solidarity is the strongest prayer.
As You Step Into This New Year…
You don’t need a resolution.
You don’t need a five-year plan.
You don’t need to rush healing.
You only need permission to take this season one breath at a time.
Grief will look different this year than it did last year—and that doesn’t mean you’re moving backward. It means you’re moving through.
If you haven’t yet, I encourage you to read “A Full Year Without Q: Grief, Growth, and the Sacred Work of Carrying On.” It holds space for milestones, setbacks, and the sacred work of surviving when life doesn’t make sense.
And if you’re looking for a gentle companion on your journey, my grief journal was created for hearts just like yours—raw, honest, and still hoping.
Before you go, I’d love to hear from you.
👉 What is one thing you’re carrying into this new year—and one thing you’re hoping to lay down?
Your story matters.
Your voice matters.
And when you share, you remind others they are not alone.
I’m so glad you’re here.
And I’m walking this road with you. 💛 You are NOT Alone!
Lori you’re an inspiration. Thank you for sharing your story. It resonates with me in so many ways. I’ve been disconnected with God and honestly a bit mad that he took my love away. I’ve been trying one day at a time. I’ve lost Randy but also lost myself. I don’t smile the same, I don’t have the same sparkle in my eyes. I’m lost and sad. This new year does not have the word “happy” in it.
Thank you for sharing this so honestly. Losing your husband and losing pieces of yourself at the same time is such a heavy place to be. Feeling disconnected from God—or even angry—doesn’t disqualify your faith; it reflects how deeply you loved.
Taking it one day at a time is enough right now. You don’t have to force happiness into this new year. Some seasons aren’t about joy or sparkle—they’re about getting through. Please know you’re not alone in feeling lost and sad. 🤍
I lost the love of my life October 14, 2025 from deadly cancer diagnosis day to death in six weeks. I’ve always been a faith believing person with Jesus in my heart since I was a young girl, this just blew my faith up, just like my whole world. Somehow I saw your posts. I’m not a big Facebook user but somehow I know Jesus showed me your posts. They have been the one thing I wake up for. You have been so raw so honest so real. I look for your words to get me through each day. I’m hanging onto your words and your faith in Jesus working through you so that I can make it through another day. I don’t know what the future holds for me and right now. I’m not sure I really trust God in it. We had a beautiful life, a beautiful marriage and I just really don’t understand why he took that away. We always prayed for health for protection, we just believed God was gonna be with us through our plans of retirement our plans with family and growing old together and loving each other every day. I understand every word you say, every feeling you feel. I have lost everything. My whole world is upside down and I’m not sure how I’m going to survive this. I just wanna thank you for your honesty, your outreach and for God using you to help other women. This is just so unbearable, sometimes I just don’t wanna be here myself. I really don’t see God‘s plan right now. I don’t understand it at all but someday maybe my faith will return and I will see the plan, but I just don’t understand taking away what was so beautiful that there is a better plan? How on earth could this be. I went from a thriving couple with amazing retirement plans to the most painful loneliness ever imaginable. I need so much help! It’s been 2 1/2 months and everyday it seems to get worse. I never knew hurt like this in my life.
I have had a lot of losses in my world
But nothing compares to THE LOVE OF MY LIFE.
Thank you,
S
Thank you for trusting me with something so raw. I am so deeply sorry for the loss of your husband. Six weeks from diagnosis to death is a shock no heart is prepared for, and the questions, loneliness, and shaken faith you’re describing are a very real part of grief.
It’s okay to admit you don’t understand God right now. Faith can be shaken and still be faith. Holding onto words, truth, or anything that helps you get through the day isn’t weakness—it’s survival. At two and a half months in, this pain is still very new.
I’m grateful my words have helped in some small way, and I want you to know you don’t have to carry this alone. You are not broken for feeling this way, and your life still matters even when the plan feels impossible to see.
You are seen, loved, and not alone. 🤍
So going into 2026 with having to it my house on the market. What I thought was going to be a fresh start for myself, my daughter and my husband. Our forever home. Close to my family and involved in a good church. After the first year things were great, some financial growing pains of not knowing exactly what all went with owning a house we had always leased in the past. But it was something that was very important to my Mom and so with my inheritance from her passing I bought our house. It was 1 of 3 I found online that I liked as we were moving from Tyler, TX to Frisco, TX. I walked in to look at this house first and told the realtor this is my house. My niece asked me didn’t I want to see more than the entry hall to make that decision. I laughed and said of course but this is my house I felt it when I walked through the door. After my husband got out of rehab which was the other thing she wanted me to make happen, I had already packed our stuff in Tyler, while still working full time and getting my daughter finished up with school, and moved it to the new house and had. Most things put away and all fixed up. Things were perfect for a year until they weren’t. He decided he loved alcohol more that me and his daughter. So we divorced. I have been able to hang onto this house for 9 years by myself and keep it going but the property and school taxes are just getting to be too much. I love this house, but it’s time. All the different reasons I have used for keeping it are no longer valid. It’s time. For a new season and I new chapter. But it kinda feels like letting go of Mom all over again. This is one of the last big tangible things that remind me of her. As silly as it sounds I can feel and hear she and my Dad in this house and there is a part of me that fears letting go of the house I’ll be letting go of them and not able to have that anymore. So it’s hard even though it’s time. I have also put myself back out on the dating scene for the first time in 31years and it’s scary out there. I didn’t like it the first time around I like it even less now. Lol So now you know a big piece of my story. I can 100% relate to your kids are what they are going through I was Kale’s age when my Dad suddenly passed away no warning no nothing I went to bed one night to wake up the next morning to the preacher, my mother, my brother and my god father all walking into the house. My situation with my husband is different because mine was by choice, and we never had the awesome relationship and marriage that you and Quinton had. Still grief but just not nearly as deep as yours. I watched my Mom walk through the grief hour walking through. She and my Dad were HS sweethearts and would have celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary the year he passed. But you are such and inspiration and encouragement to so many that are walking through what you are. Many that may never let you know it. But just opening up and being so raw and vulnerable every step even when some posted ugly things. Those few comments which I know were huge to you, in the grand full picture were just such a small # compared to all that you have helped!!! If you or the kids ever need a no judgement place to reach out and vent you always have me!!! Love you guys !! ❤️❤️
Thank you for trusting me with so much of your story. What you shared is not silly at all—it makes so much sense. Letting go of a home that holds your parents’ presence, your hope, your sacrifice… that’s real grief. Even when it’s time, it can still hurt deeply.
Stepping into a new season—selling the house, dating again, opening yourself to change—takes courage, especially after all you’ve carried. I admire your honesty and your strength more than you know.
Thank you for your kindness, your encouragement, and for seeing my kids with such empathy. It means the world. And truly—thank you for the open-hearted offer of support. That kind of grace matters. 🤍
Me too 😥
You are an incredible inspiration. I am not grieving death. I am not the person I expected to be during this season of my life. Thank you.
Thank you for sharing this so honestly. Grief shows up in many forms, and mourning the person you thought you’d be is very real. I’m glad my words met you where you are in this season. You’re not alone. 🤍
Thank you for this! It really encouraged me and I am grateful for you for sharing your journey. My Mom died in Nov. 2025 and this has been hard and unexpected. Grief has been a struggle so I am glad I am not alone.
Thank you for sharing this. I’m so sorry about the loss of your mom—unexpected grief is especially hard to carry. I’m glad the post encouraged you and reminded you that you’re not alone in this. Thank you for being here and for your kind words. 🤍
me too
15 months into this grief journey after sudden brain cancer diagnosis and death of my high school sweetheart husband of 44 years. The journey is so erratic and unpredictable. One day I’m fine and the next I’m really not fine at all. Thank you Lori for being here and sharing, it helps.
Thank you for sharing this. After forty-four years together, it makes sense that grief feels erratic and unpredictable. There’s no straight line through it—being “fine” one day and not at all the next is part of the journey.
I’m grateful my sharing has helped in some small way. You’re not alone in this, even on the days that feel especially hard. 🤍
I am a widow of 6.5 months … I am taking my late husband into the new year with me … I can’t leave him behind in 2025 . He was my soulmate almost 40 years marriage . Most days unbearable … I am definately not the same person
Thank you for sharing this. You don’t leave someone behind just because the calendar changes. Carrying him with you into the new year is love, not weakness. After almost forty years together, of course you’re not the same person—grief reshapes us.
Most days being unbearable doesn’t mean you’re failing; it means you loved deeply. You’re allowed to move forward while still holding him close. 🤍
In Oct 2024 I lost my 15year old grandson to epilepsy, Nov 2024 I lost his father, my son-in-law and Dec 13th 2024 my dear husband of 43 years passed. it has been a hard year and we just got through all the year anniversaries and Christmas and New Year. I am numb. So sad.
I am so sorry. That is an unimaginable amount of loss in such a short time, and it makes sense that you feel numb and deeply sad. Anyone would. Grief stacked on grief can leave the heart overwhelmed and exhausted.
Thank you for sharing something so painful. Please know you are not alone in this, even in the numbness. I’m holding you in my prayers and sending you so much compassion as you take this one moment at a time. 🤍
Its been 4 holidays without my husband.Each one has been different. The old traditions do not feel the same so trying new things , sharing the hosting with my adult children. Today took down all my decorations Just felt “0ver it”’it was tradition to
Keep it all
Up
Until Jan6th, my birthday. I had to put Christmas away. I am a spiritual person but do not feel connected to God now. Lori, I enjoy your sharing and your raw pain. Not sure what I have to look forward to. When my husband passed I had two dogs , my 6 year old passed in March and my now 12 year old is going into CHF. I am living in fear of losing him now. God bless you
Thank you for sharing this so honestly. Four holidays in can still feel heavy, especially when traditions no longer bring the comfort they once did. It’s okay that you put Christmas away when you needed to—grief doesn’t follow the calendar.
Feeling disconnected from God can happen in seasons like this, and it doesn’t mean He’s gone or that your faith is failing. Carrying the fear of more loss, especially with your sweet dog, is so hard on a tender heart.
I’m grateful you’re here and reading along, even in the uncertainty. You’re not alone in these feelings, and I’m holding you in my prayers. 🤍
The biggest thing when walking with grief is you never know when it will hit. it has been six months since my wife passed and I have been asking God to write my journey to end quickly so that I can be with her again. I have 3 kids and two are out of the house and the youngest will be a senior next year. Everyone says that you need to be strong for them but I know if something happens to me I have created a Will that they will be taken care of. I want to be with her so bad but trying to be as strong as I can for my kids, which is quite tough especially when we both we at home together 24/7. Both of us worked from home and she homeschooled our kids for 16 years. I would get her coffee ready either that night or the next morning when I took out our dogs. not having her there everyday along side me is even worse. I have gotten into a routine that before she passed I would go out to our In-Law suite where she worked at 5:00 PM to see how her day went. now I go out to visit her grave everyday between 5:00 and 6:00 to visit. that has become a normal routine and I have put up a lot of pictures of her and I as well as with the kids to keep her spirit alive within the house.
Thank you for sharing this so honestly. The way grief comes in waves—without warning—is something so many of us learn the hard way. Missing her presence beside you every day, especially after a life so intertwined, is an ache that runs deep.
What you’re doing for your kids, even when it’s exhausting, matters more than you know. Strength doesn’t mean hiding the pain—it means continuing to show up, one day at a time. The routines you’ve kept, the way you honor her memory, the love you surround your home with… that is love still at work.
Please know you’re not alone in this, even when it feels unbearably quiet. Thank you for trusting me with your story. 🤍
I don’t know if you see what we see but the amount of pop up ads makes it hard to concentrate and follow your blog. Is there a way to skip them?
Anyway I came here to say:
I lost my husband 6 months ago. We met when I was 14. Best friends first, then boyfriend & girlfriend. Married 53 years. I am now 70. I just experienced all the firsts without him, his birthday, our wedding anniversary, the birth of a great grand daughter and Christmas. I am overwhelmed by the loss and loneliness. We were best friends, we did everything together, we were enjoying retirement and family. Now I don’t even want to get out of bed. I do because I have to, but I don’t enjoy anything anymore.
We accepted the Lord together when we were very young, I worked at our Church for 15 years. I am confident that we will be together when I die, but that is not easing my pain.
Any tips you can give me to navigate these early days would be much appreciated.
Thank you for sharing this with me. I am so sorry for the loss of your husband and for the weight of all those firsts you’ve had to carry. After fifty-three years together, the loneliness and lack of joy you’re feeling makes so much sense.
Faith doesn’t take away the pain of missing him here, and that doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong. In these early days, getting out of bed is enough. Be gentle with yourself, stay connected where you can, and allow the grief to take the space it needs.
You’re not alone. 🤍
Me too. I miss “us”. I miss my forever boyfriend, the love of my life, my date. “One day at a time” became our motto, but I know God has a purpose for my life. I just miss him every day.
Thank you for sharing this. Missing us—the life, the love, the everyday togetherness—is such a real part of grief. One day at a time is sometimes all we can hold onto, even while trusting that God still has purpose ahead. Missing him doesn’t mean you lack faith—it means you loved deeply. 🤍
Me too. Nine months in and I still can’t quite wrap my head around having to do this life without him. God has definitely been with me. I wondered how I could be excited about Christmas and when the accident happened in April, I remember thinking we will just go away for Christmas like we could escape it. But home felt like the best place to be with his memory surrounding us. Then thinking Christmas is not about our family. It is about our savior the gift of him to us. How could I not find joy in that?! Thinking on baby Jesus coming to be with us in the mess and accompanying us in the dirty stable when things aren’t going right, and there’s not room at the inn. People died the day baby Jesus was born. People were grieving, and he came to be with them. Pretty grateful for God at the same time as I feel weighted down with this unimaginable loss. Thank you for doing the work you do to help all of us grieving.
Thank you for sharing this so thoughtfully. Nine months in is still so tender, and what you wrote about Christmas, home, and remembering what the season is truly about is beautiful. Holding gratitude for God while still feeling the weight of loss is such a real place to be.
I’m honored my words could walk alongside you in this season. Thank you for taking the time to share and for your encouragement. 🤍
This is so encouraging, My husband passed from Covid 10/25/21- 3 agonizing weeks of not being able to be with in the hospital, he was intubated & sedated so FaceTime was all we could do, but it was better than nothing. Your post of unexpectedly losing your soulmate has been such an encouragement for me. You are so right in saying grief doesn’t go away, but God guiding us thru it. Finding those moments to praise him even when we don’t feel like it. Just showing up, when you want to throw the covers over your head and stay in bed. May the Lord continue to bless and guide you as you continue to share and encourage others
Thank you so much for sharing this. I’m so sorry for the way you lost your husband—those weeks of distance and uncertainty are such a heavy burden to carry. I’m grateful my words brought some encouragement and reminded you that even when grief stays, God faithfully walks us through it.
Showing up, even when it’s hard, truly matters. Thank you for your kindness and your prayers. May the Lord continue to comfort and strengthen you as well. 🤍
I lost my husband a year and a half ago in a similar way you lost Q..I woke up to him passing away slowly in his sleep, and I was there in our bed when he took his last breath. JD was only 35. I am grateful for my friend sharing your page with me this blog in particular with going into the new year has really helped. I’m going to lean into finding things that I’m grateful for such as having a roof over my head, friends that do anything for me and having parents that have been supporting me all the meanwhile grieving JD. I appreciate you reminding us We are also grieving our former selves. You become someone that you may recognize in a mirror, but you don’t act or feel the same. I noticed I have become more quiet and it basically feels like I am in survival mode every day. We had plans to start a family the year he passed we purchased a large home and everything to get ready, but for whatever reason i suppose God had other plans. It’s hard for me to even write this small message so I can’t thank you enough for sharing your experience and more so helping us with going through this. You are so appreciated.
Thank you for sharing this. I’m so sorry about JD and for all you’ve had to carry at such a young age. What you said about grieving your former self and living in survival mode really resonates.
I’m glad the blog helped and that you’re leaning into gratitude where you can. Thank you for taking the energy to write this—it means more than you know. You are truly appreciated. 🤍
I struggle to get through every day but I see every day as a day closer to being in Heaven
Thank you for sharing this so honestly. Some days are about endurance, not answers. The hope of Heaven can be a quiet anchor when everything here feels heavy. Until that day, we keep showing up one day at a time, trusting God to meet us right where we are. You’re not alone. 🤍
Me too. I’m 2.5 years widowed and still evolving. Thank you for putting into words what I’ve often try to convey. After 22 yrs of marriage, I’m still figuring out who I am without him. We dont have children, but I’m no longer a wife, the other half, the lone decision maker, the lone bill payer, the lone fixer of things, the lone pet mama.
I also celebrate “wins”. I fixed the toilet. I cut a dog door out by myself. I’ve kept the funeral plants alive. And I can always find some kind of comedy in the craziest of circumstances.
A quote we used for any situation, especially the mistakes, something went wrong, unplanned ordeals is, “This will make a great story!”.
Internet hugs to you and appreciation medals to your insightful postings.
* PS. If you’ve never read “A Prayer for Owen Meany” I highly recommend it. After loss, it really hits in a different way- even if you’ve seen the movie or read the book previous to loss.
Thank you for sharing this. What you wrote is so real, and I feel every word of it. Losing who you were with someone is a grief all its own, and learning to carry all the roles alone takes so much strength—often more than we give ourselves credit for.
I love that you celebrate the wins. Those matter. And yes… finding humor where we can is sometimes what keeps us standing. “This will make a great story” is a phrase I may need to borrow.
Thank you for the encouragement and the book recommendation—I’ll add it to my list. Sending a big hug right back. 🤍
Dear sister in Christ, this is the very first comment I have ever left to anyone I have/am following. I came across your blog today and I know it was God who placed you on my feed. My mother lost her husband 2yrs ago and I have watched her grieve so deeply it is into her bones. You have been a true inspiration to me this morning and I so appreciate your openness and your love for the Lord and your family. I am going to invite her to follow you. I know you will help her. God is surely using you to help heal others.
I will keep you and your children in my prayers.
On a side note I am going to be bold and tell you of a Christian man who lives in Flushing, MI. and loves the Lord and has helped my mother and myself with his posts. His name is Dan Hays and is on FB. He last his wife a couple years ago. I do not personally know him but he too has helped us through this grieving process. Maybe his writings could help you as well. God has given him a gift of writing.
Thank you dear sister and God bless you with peace and comfort.
Thank you for taking the time to write this. I don’t take it lightly, especially knowing this was the first comment you’ve ever left. I truly believe God connects us at the right moments.
My heart goes out to your mother. Walking alongside someone in deep grief is heavy, and I’m honored you’d invite her to follow along. Thank you for your prayers for my children and me—they mean more than you know.
I also appreciate the recommendation of Dan Hays and will look him up. Thank you again for the encouragement. 🤍
I just recently found you and your blog. We are neighbors, I live on our farm outside Cole Camp. My husband was called home April 3rd of last year. I am currently walking through all the “firsts”. Still have his birthday in February and anniversary of his passing yet to live through. So many things you wrote above resonated with me. We were together 38 years, married 36. I will continue to read more of your blogs and appreciate your willingness to share. God Bless you and your family this New Year! ❤️
Oh friend, thank you so much for sharing this with me. 🤍 I am deeply sorry for the loss of your husband. Thirty-eight years together is a lifetime, and walking through all the firsts after that is so incredibly heavy.
I’m grateful my words resonated with you and honored you’re here. Please know you are not alone, and I’m praying for you as you face the days ahead—especially those tender milestones still to come. God is near, even in the hardest moments.
Sending love to you this New Year. ❤️