They don’t tell you this part about grief.
Yes, you’ll feel heartbreak. Yes, you’ll cry. Yes, you’ll miss them every single day.
But what no one really talks about is the fact that grief doesn’t just take the person you love — it takes pieces of you, too.
And there comes a moment, whether it’s weeks, months, or years later, when you realize:
There are two stages of grief.
Who you were before.
Just 5 days before Quintin passed away...
And who you became after.
Year One: The Crushing Fog of Denial
When I look back at the first year after losing my husband, I barely recognize myself.
I was moving through life in a fog — functioning, but not really living.
The denial was so heavy it almost felt protective.
Like my heart couldn’t possibly take in the reality all at once, so my mind kept me in survival mode.
You wake up and for half a second, you forget.
Then the wave hits again.
And again.
And again.
People tell you, “You’re so strong,” but they don’t see the nights you crumble on the bathroom floor. They don’t hear the prayers you whisper through tears: Lord, please just let this be a nightmare.
Year one is filled with “firsts” you never wanted — the first birthday without them, the first holiday without their laugh, the first time you realize their side of the bed has gone cold.
And yet, in all of that, you’re still almost… numb.
Like your soul knows it has to keep some distance from the pain or you might not make it through.
Year Two: The Ache That Cuts Deeper
If year one was denial, year two is when the fog lifts — and the raw ache sets in.
This year is harder in ways I never imagined.
The reality of my loss feels heavier, not lighter.
The distractions and chaos of “just getting through” are gone, and I’m left face-to-face with the emptiness.
People stop checking in.
The texts that used to come every week now barely come at all.
The “call me anytime” invitations fade.
It’s not that people are bad or unloving — it’s just that life moves on for them.
But for you? Life has changed forever.
I’ve learned that grief can be deeply isolating.
It’s easier to put up walls than to say out loud, “I wish you were still here for me. I thought you’d stick around.”
Fighting the Version of Me I Don’t Want to Become
Here’s my truth:
I miss who I was before.
Before grief made me cautious.
Before I started overthinking every conversation.
Before I had to guard my heart like it was made of fragile glass.
They say grief can morph into darker emotions — anger, anxiety, bitterness.
And I can feel them creeping in sometimes.
I hate that.
I don’t want to be this version of me.
Some days I want to scream.
Some days I feel like I’m holding everything in because the only person who fully understood me… is no longer here.
The Loneliness No One Talks About
Year one, you’re surrounded by people.
Year two, you can hear your own footsteps in the silence.
No one talks about how lonely it feels when the world keeps spinning but you’re stuck in a place you never wanted to be.
No one tells you how exhausting it is to keep pretending you’re okay when you’re anything but.
I’ve learned that loneliness doesn’t always mean you’re physically alone.
Sometimes it means you’re in a crowded room but no one can truly see the storm inside your soul.
What I Wish I Could Tell the Me From Before
If I could go back and talk to the me before grief, I’d say:
- Love deeper. Hug longer.
- Say the things that feel awkward to say, because you might not get another chance.
- Don’t sweat the small stuff — in the end, none of it matters.
I’d tell her to cherish the normal days, the ones she thought were boring.
Because one day she’d give anything to have them back.
Finding Glimmers in the Dark
Even in the heaviness, I’ve found little moments that remind me I’m still here.
The smell of fresh coffee in the morning.
A song on the radio that makes me smile through tears.
A sunset that paints the sky in colors so beautiful, I can’t help but think, he would have loved this.
Those glimmers don’t erase the grief.
But they remind me there’s still life to be lived.
If You’re Here Too…
If you’ve lost someone you love and you’re reading this thinking, Yes. This is exactly where I am, please hear me:
You are not alone.
Your feelings are valid.
You don’t have to “be strong” every day.
It’s okay to miss who you were before.
It’s okay to be tired of fighting.
It’s okay to admit that this hurts more than you thought possible.
And it’s okay to hold onto hope — even if right now it feels like a whisper.
Faith in the Middle of the Mess
I wish I could say my faith has made grief easy.
It hasn’t.
But it has been the anchor when the waves hit.
When I’m tempted to believe I’m completely alone, I remember:
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” – Psalm 34:18
That verse doesn’t promise an easy road, but it promises His nearness.
And some days, that’s the only thing that keeps me putting one foot in front of the other. That along with the blessing of my children.
Let’s Talk About It
One of the hardest parts of grief is feeling like you have to carry it silently.
But I believe there’s healing in sharing our stories — even the messy, unfiltered parts.
So I want to open up my little corner of the internet — right here on this blog — as a safe space for those of us walking through loss.
I’d love for you to share in the comments:
- What stage of grief are you in?
- What has surprised you most about the journey?
- What’s one thing you wish people understood about what you’re going through?
Whether you’ve been in this season for weeks or decades, your story matters.
Your voice matters.
And you never know who might read your words and feel a little less alone.
Final Thoughts
Grief will change you.
There’s no way around that.
But maybe — just maybe — we can walk through it together and remind each other that even in the pain, there can still be connection.
If you’re here today missing who you were before, please know:
I see you.
I’m with you.
And I believe there’s still purpose for your life, even in this new version of you. If you are looking for resources, I would love to share NEVER ALONE it is a community of amazing women and moms who have also weathered the storm of widowhood. I will continue to try to update with resources as I find them helpful in my own journey. So please bookmark my CrazyBusyMama blog as it is more than just recipes, it is my prayer that it offers hope in the midst of your storm.
🖤 Share your thoughts below. I read every comment. Let’s lift each other up in this space. –
Much Love – Lori
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I feel this so deeply. The 3rd anniversary of my husband’s death is coming up October 22 and I don’t know how to feel about it. It still seems so surreal. My husband’s death was very similar to yours- suddenly and right in front of my face. The loneliness is crushing. The jealousy of friends who still have their husbands. The wish to wake up and find that it was a nightmare. Everyone thinks I’m so strong. But I don’t want to be!! I want to have my companion and love of 34 years back here to lean on, to support me, to aggravate me, to love me. I wish I knew how to find the before me again but I don’t think that is possible.
Hi Lori,
Your words are so genuine and authentic. I relate on so many levels. I lost my husband of 26 years suddenly April 2024, so being in the second year I feel exactly how you feel. My husband was out with a friend and collapsed with a heart attack. The police came to our house and my 3 young adult children (19, 20, 23) were all there to hear what had happened. It’s a strange place to be. Now my two oldest are getting married next year and the youngest has decided he is going to travel for the next year. It’s not how life was supposed to be. Thank you for putting into words exactly how I feel these days!
Hi. Thank you for your wonderful blog. It has made me realise that I am not alone, or going mad.
My husband of 18 years died six months ago next week. He had been sick for a few months, in and out of hospital. In the end it was so quick. The night before he refused further treatment and died the following morning. The moment of his death haunts me. I don’t sleep because of the nightmares. The family didn’t get to say goodbye, but worst of all for me, as a nurse, if I had had an inclin of how quickly it was going to happen, I would have taken him home and nurses him. Instead, he died on a public ward, surrounded by people, with no dignity or privacy afforded to this wonderful man. I always maintained that there was more to his condition than a chest infection and an autopsy revealed cancer. They looked for it and never found it.
The grief is immeasurable. I have literally been from suicidal to Australia in my efforts to get away from it, but nothing works. The silence is deafening and it upsets me greatly that I have forgotten the sound of his laughter – and there was so much of that.
The firsts have been awful. My son’s wedding in May. The empty chair with his photo. The wedding reception in the same venue as his wake.My birthday. His.
I am not able to be home alone so I am giving up my home to live with my son and his family. I am packing and keep coming across his things sometimes I turn over in the night and reach for him and then remember all over again.
Nothing will bring him back. I know that. Already people are drifting away but for me, the passing of time makes it worse.
If next year is worse, I can’t bear to think about it.
Someone asked me the other week how long I was going to wear my rings for and would I go back to my maiden name, the thoughtlessness of people is staggering.
I thought we had our forever. I was his but sadly my forever goes on without him.
One step at a time… talk to someone to help you get out of your head. Talk about those feelings with a trust source who can point you to the ultimate truth and deliverer! Keep on stepping!
Reading this post was like reading my own thoughts. So much of what you said resonated and reflected exactly what I’ve been experiencing. My husband of 19 years passed away 5 years ago. He had been sick on and off for years but had always pulled through. In my mind, I thought I was prepared. I never realized how my mind and my heart were so misaligned. Year one was hard, just like everyone says it is, with all of the firsts and all of the busy work that you do to get things in order. Year two was debilitating, but we were in the middle of Covid and in some weird way that made it not feel real. For me, years three and four were the worst. Those were the years that I really felt the loss, the loneliness, the guilty and anxiety that never knew existed in me. I was trying so hard to not be that person – you know the one that people whisper “she lost her husband, poor girl, I just can’t imagine”. They were right, I did, and no, they could never imagine nor would I want them to have to. The invites came to help keep me busy, but being surrounded by people that were able to live their life the same as they always had while I was constantly struggling to find a new normal was such a challenge. I didn’t want to be angry with them, they were trying to help, but there was so much that they couldn’t see. They could never understand how hard it was to watch them continue living when such a huge piece of me had died with him. They could never know what it felt like to watch them interact in such simple ways that I no longer could. It was the little things.. like being out with a friend when their spouse called just to check in, or having their husband bring them lunch to work on a random Tuesday. The things that I knew I would never experience again. Then there were the emotions that I hadn’t expected – fear, anxiety, indecision. I didn’t know who I was anymore and I had no idea how to figure that out. Thankfully, I have a strong faith and I’ve pushed through. I’m never going to be the same person that I was but I’m slowly learning how to rebuild a version of me that I’m happy with. I hate that we are all in this club that we never signed up for, but I’m thankful for messages like this that help to feel like I’m not alone. Peace and love to you all.
<3 thank you for sharing. May GOd keep you and bless you
It’s coming upon one year that I lost my husband. August 17, 2024 is a date I’ll never forget. We were high school sweethearts. Well actually grade school, because I told my mom in the 5th grade that I was going to marry him some day. We were in the same class at school. Started dating at 15, we graduated high school in May and married in November of that year. He passed away 2 1/2 months before our 50th wedding anniversary. A day that we were so looking forward to. A couple of months before he passed away he gave me a gift and said this is for our 50th Anniversary. I said why are you giving me this now? He said because I just want to. Maybe something was telling him he wouldn’t be here for our 50th. This past year has been hard. I made it through all the firsts, with help from my Lord above and my family and friends. Now to make it through the second year.
Praying for you as this date is right around the corner. <3 May you be filled with the most incredible memories that you can hold dear. Hugs
We had 57 years, and his death was not unexpected. He had battled prostate cancer for seven years but, all but the last few months, were gifts from God!! Actually, those months were too. We came face to face with some facts, made as much peace as we could with reality and had some serious talks! At least we had that! During one of those talks, less than a week before he died, he said, “It is going to be soon. The thing I hate the most is leaving you alone!” He knew me well! I assured him I would be fine. We even talked about some of the things I would do, activities I could get involved with again. But I am not fine, not yet maybe never.
For the last five months I feel I have been trying to swim through Jell-O. I stumbled through the forest of legal stuff we thought we had prepared for. As a goal-oriented person, I was lost with no goals in mind, no desire to make any and was overwhelmed with the feeling that goals were useless anyway!! Who would notice! Two times I just laid my head on my desk and yelled, “I just can’t do this alone!” Immediately, I could hear him in the back of my head reminding me I was not alone!!! We had often quoted Deuteronomy 31:8 during those seven years. “The Lord is the One who will go before you! He will be with you. He will not leave you or forsake you. Do not be discouraged and do not be afraid!”
I understand when you say we lose not just our loved one but also a part of ourselves. Part of my identity is gone. I feel awkward saying “OUR children or WE love you!” Then there are the little things like asking him to put this medicine on that place on my back, or asking what you want for dinner, hearing him say “I love you most”, all the conversations that were not noticed before. It’s the emptiness that surprises me.
Definitely I am in the “Me after stage” and I don’t have a clear view of what that is supposed to look like. We moved through the denial stage together thinking surely God will use his healing as a witness knowing the whole time that sometimes God uses the opposite outcome as well. I have been angry, not at God but at the country who betrayed him and then denied the connection until it was too late. I know there is no bargaining with God, so I did not waste my time on that stage. It is appointed unto every man to die. Depression sometimes grips me, but I know I cannot live there. The only acceptance I have I find in the words of the song “The thought that makes me smile now, even as the tears fall down is that the only scars in Heaven are on the hands that hold you now.”
I wish people understood that not crying in public doesn’t mean you are strong but the only way they can understand is to experience it themselves so I would not wish that for anyone! However, I know even in my grief, the depth of my grief was matched by the love we shared and I would never want to give that up!!
Thank you for stepping out of your comfort zone of privacy and letting us know we are not alone. Thank you for your questions and the healing that thinking them through have brought me.
It is Well with my Soul!
The club none of us wanted to join, yet here we are. My husband has been gone 7 years. Absolutely year 2 was the worst for all the reasons you mention. People from the outside just never get how hard this is and how losing him changed everything in my life. My financial situation changed, I am not the sole person responsible for my household. My friendships changed, I am now the person who doesn’t always get invited because I am no longer a “couple”. The way I eat my meals has changed, what’s the point of cooking for 1? After a hard day at the office, I come home to a lonely, quiet home. Nobody to listen to me, nobody to talk to. My friends say “you can call me” it isn’t the same. I lost my person….the one who always had my back, every time! My plus 1 is missing. I must attend an event on Saturday, alone. I do not have my best friend with me holding my hand. Yes, my friends say I could find another husband, I’m only 58. I don’t want a “new” person. I want “my” person. The pain is always here, sometimes it comes to the surface and other days I can smile through it, but it is always here, I am just learning how to live with it. I enjoy your posts and am truly sorry for the pain and struggle you are going through. I wish I had some great advice for you. I’m sorry I do not. Just keep plugging along, one day at a time!
Aside from my husband, my son has always been my best friend. Losing him to illness at 37 was the most painful thing that there is no Richter scale for it. Year four is upon me and it is a crushing blow to hang onto any expectations I have for the way people will respond to me.
It is Faith that sees us through. It is Faith that helps us to breathe. It is the only hope that we have that what others advise us will stand true, that the pain will lessen and perhaps I could serve other people someday again.
I am shamed how I stopped everything and it took me years to be able to go to the grocery store again and not watch church online.
Even though I saw my son often and he called daily, I still can’t remember the sound of his voice without playing a recording.
It’s scary to imagine that the battle is real when I think of heaven and it now holds the joy of seeing our son. It is supposed to be all about Him, the one who trusted me with that soul to raise to know and love Jesus.
I have never been so lonely in my whole life. Everyone in my family seems to be doing so much better than I am. I’m glad. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.
I do wish they knew that I needed to talk about our son. Nobody ever brings him up in conversation ever and it makes the pain thick like a fog, blinding, unstable and never ending. It’s always surprising when God blows away the deep fog that turns to a mist that leads to a clear day.
There is no way to know where I have gone, but this person that I am now is not who I signed up to be. God has been so kind to me to help me get to know myself better that I might be more productive for Him.
Every smile, laugh or joy experienced is very personal between me and God now, and I do not take it for granted, which was so easy to do before. So for now, I just keep in mind that God just requires me to trust Him and breathe. Trust Him and breathe.
I lost my husband of 36 years five years ago. Every day feels like it was yesterday, while some days feel like it was forever. The first year was hard, getting used to being alone, our children are grown, and have busy lives of their own. The second year was harsh reality. This year, is the realization that he is not coming back. But I have the promise of seeing him again one day, and I believe that will be soon. I know that grief is deep because I loved him so deeply. I hold onto my faith and know that God is ever near and dear to me, and will not leave my side, as long as I let HIM walk with me. Keep those memories alive, they help. Keep the few friends that have stood by you close, they help. Keep your eyes focused on HIM, it helps. I wished I could reach out and give you the biggest hug, it helps too!!!
It was meant to be that I came across your blog last year. I lost my husband 3 days after you lost Quin. He had been ill, and we knew he would be called soon, but that morning was not expected and I know it wasn’t from his illness that he left us. He was called and chose to go with our Lord in peace.
As I read these words about this second year, I realize that I am feeling and going through all that you say. I’ve been so busy trying to keep up with things around the house that I haven’t thought about my own feelings and dealing with my new life. One of the first things that I did realize was that I am not the same me as I once was. Half of me is gone, and I miss that part so much every day. It’s been one thing after another, and another adds to it that needs to be fixed and done around the house. I feel I need to complete these tasks because its what my husband would be doing, so I do it for him.
I too feel the loss of calls, and notes from friends from the first year. It hurts a bit more when the loss is from family members. Just the other evening a friend asked me how I was doing in my grieving. I was touched that she, of many people, would ask me this. (It had been 10 years since the loss of her husband). We hugged and had a good conversation.
I turn to our Lord for comfort, peace and strength to continue each day. Your words and strength are of support to me. May our Lord continue to hold you in his arms as you continue on the road ahead. Our children are true Blessings to us, as they put that light in us to keep going. Peace.
My Steve was a great man! He was loved by so many. He would literally give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. His kids and I were his world and we all knew it! We felt it everyday! He passed sudden almost 14 months ago. He said he felt a little sick, took a shower, laid down and told me he thought he felt better right before he took his last breath. It was instant. My daughter and her husband administered CPR, but he was already with Jesus I am quite certain.
My struggle is, I feel so selfish in my grief. I know he is in a better place and I am thankful he is not hurting and is free from this world, but I am still so sad! I miss him and I miss me. I really feel our two spirits were intertwined and now I’m missing the part that made me who I was. The part of me that was fun, silly, joyful! I will never be that person again and this is such a lonely road. You have said ever bit of what I feel! I am so sorry for your loss!
Lori, I still remember the numbness more than anything when I lost my Dad in 2009 Dec 13th, no less. Before Christmas. He was the first to go in our immediate family so like you, it was such a pain and shock. A year and half later, Mom went. It wasn’t as difficult because Dad was waiting for her on the other side. When I lost my sister, who is a year older than me on July 31, 2016, that same numbness that I felt with Dad was there. She is my best friend, my constant companion when my husband didn’t want to go somewhere, she was part of me and my husband 3 Musketeers. We’d invite her over all the time and we’d all 3 go out to eat as well. She never married so I shared my 2 grandchildren and my 2 daughters with her. I still grieve her and am crying right now remembering her. Missing her. Still loving her. Cancer stole her from me and my family in a big way. And yes. The hardest thing is not remembering who I was before these 3 losses in my life and the fact that the world keeps moving but we are stuck in the world of loss and grief. I don’t know when it’s gonna end, but I’ve heard, when you love someone so deeply, your grief lasts so long. Yes. We keep walking and make ourselves move forward and try to live our new normal as best we can. But oh, those birthdays, holidays and new celebrations of sorts make you miss them extra. Hang in there and know in you sharing your grief, I and many others feel seen. Feel heard. Hugs. 😘♥️🙏
My heart absolutely is crushed for you. I know the depth of pain that you are feeling … my belief is that, until you have lost someone who was such a part of your soul that part of you left with them, you have no idea the emptiness, the anguish, the questions, the anger … all of the emotions. Your mind knows you must go on, there will be happy days but your heart doesn’t buy it. I’m so-o unbelievably sorry for what you and Dan are experiencing ….. It’s gutwrenching, it’s just so-o empty and lonely …. I’m just so-o sorry that this happened to all of you.
Almost 4 years in without my person I expected to spend the rest of my days with. I finally felt love and safety with the love of my life. Sadly he died by suicide during covid. He worked to keep his busy brain busy. It’s a hard path. Ii have hard moments that will bring me to my knees. I still struggle at times but am happy in a new relationship. It took me 3 years to be open to dating and ongosh it was scary. And it had its own set of challenges. He is sweet and understanding. There is hope and a possibility of new beginnings when you are ready.
So hard… Love you <3 Keep stepping!!
I cannot imagine what you must be going through every day, but your words were so touching and real. You are beyond brave to open yourself up and share your grief. God bless you.
<3 It helps me to fine purpose in all the pain.
I lost my “bonus dad,” Eddie, on July 7 in a motorcycle accident. My husband was riding just behind him when Eddie took a turn too fast and lost control. When the ambulance arrived, he was still awake—still himself—telling my husband to stay with his bike. I was told to go straight to the hospital.
When I walked through those doors, the chaplain met me and gently led me to the family room. Then the doctor came in and spoke the words no one should ever have to hear. In that moment, my world cracked open.
Every day since has felt hollow. I miss his voice on the phone, his quick texts, his easy laugh, and the nickname he saved just for me. I can’t begin to imagine two years without him—one month has already felt unbearable. This pain is deeper than anything I’ve ever known.
Thank you for sharing your words even in the midst of your own grief. I will be holding your heart in my prayers.
Such a heart break…Holding you in my heart and prayers as you navigate as well!