7 gift ideas to help widows feel seen on Valentines Day.

valentines day is very hard for most widows - here are 7 ideas to help her feel seen, loved and understood.

The world celebrates love loudly on Valentine’s Day.
Hearts fill storefronts. Couples fill restaurants. Messages of romance and togetherness fill the air.

Meanwhile, widows carry the deep weight of loss — and the love that still remains.

Their love didn’t disappear when their spouse died. It didn’t diminish or fade. It continues, woven into daily life, memory, and the body itself. On a day designed to spotlight romantic love, that absence can feel excruciating and extra lonely.

Valentine’s Day can be one of the hardest days of the year for widows — not because love is gone, but because it is everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

Yet even when the day itself hurts, love can still be shown.
Not loudly. Not awkwardly. But wisely and gently — in ways that help widows feel understood, held, loved, and seen.

7 Meaningful Valentine’s Day Gift Ideas for Widows

What each gift quietly says: “I understand your grief.”

These are not gifts meant to cheer someone up or move them forward.
They are gestures that say, I’m not afraid of your grief. I know love didn’t end.

A heart locket can honor the love a widow still carries, even on a day that highlights absence.

1. A Heart Locket (With a Photo Inside)

What this gift says:
“I understand that your love didn’t end — and I’m not asking you to hide it.”

Widows often feel the world expects them to loosen their bond, to hold their love more privately. A heart locket does the opposite. It honors continued connection.

Why it helps:
Grief research affirms that maintaining a continuing bond with a loved one is healthy and stabilizing. Carrying a photo close can be grounding on days when absence feels sharp and disorienting.

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Peace Lily Gift for Widows - great air purifier in the home reminding her to breathe.

2. A Living Plant (Peace Lily or Prayer Plant)

What this gift says:
“I understand that care needs to be gentle — and ongoing.”

A peace lily symbolizes quiet endurance and peace. A prayer plant folds its leaves at night, resembling hands in prayer — opening and closing in a daily rhythm that mirrors grief itself.

Why it helps:
Living plants communicate ongoing care without urgency. Many also improve indoor air quality and humidity, subtly supporting breathing and comfort. They offer continuity when life feels fractured.

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such a beautiful reminder for a widow that many tears are expected with this kind of loss and they are okay.

3. A Tear Bottle or Tear Jar

What this gift says:
“I understand that your tears matter — and don’t need to be fixed.”

The image of a tear bottle comes from Psalm 56:8:
“You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle.”

In Scripture, tears are not dismissed or rushed. They are seen, gathered, and remembered.

Why it helps:
Grief grows heavier when tears feel inconvenient or unsafe. A tear jar gives sorrow a place — a quiet witness when words are unavailable. Crying can help release built-up stress and support emotional regulation in the body.

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Valentines day gift idea for widows with written words of truth reminding them throughout they day their level of grief is understood.

4. A Framed Word or Short Verse

What this gift says:
“I understand that some days words are hard — so I’m not giving you many.”

A single word like Loved or Held, or a short verse, doesn’t demand reflection or response. It simply rests in the room.

Why it helps:
Grief can overwhelm cognition. Visual anchors reduce mental load and offer reassurance without requiring effort — especially on emotionally heavy days.

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a cozy wrap for a widow to feel held in the depths of her grief.

5. A Cozy Wrap

What this gift says:
“I understand that grief lives in your body, not just your heart.”

Many widows describe feeling physically unsettled or exposed, especially on days that amplify absence.

Why it helps:
Warmth and gentle pressure signal safety to the nervous system. A wrap offers containment when emotions feel uncontained — comfort without conversation.

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a calendar, organizer, and small topical notebooks to keep a very simple and organized system to help with grief brain fog.

6. A Leather Traveler’s Notebook

What this gift says:
“I understand your mind is carrying too much — and you need one place to put it.”

Grief fragments attention. Thoughts, tasks, reminders, questions — everything floats.

Why it helps:
A traveler’s notebook acts as a second brain: one place to organize thoughts, lists, plans, and reminders. Sections are easy to find, reference, and later transfer into calendars or daily plans — reducing stress during grief fog.

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a diffuser with essential oils or a candle to bring fresh scent and peaceful calm into the home, when life feels lonely for widows.

7. A Diffuser or Candle

What this gift says:
“I understand that your emotions arrive before words do.”

Valentine’s Day can feel loud — emotionally and sensorially.

Why it helps:
Scent and soft light reach the limbic system, the part of the brain involved in emotion and memory. Calming scents can regulate breathing, lower anxiety, and offer steadiness when feelings rise quickly.

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What Matters Most

Valentine’s Day doesn’t need to be avoided with widows.
It needs to be handled gently.

The most meaningful gifts don’t try to make grief smaller or quieter.
They acknowledge love, honor loss, and offer care without expectation.

Sometimes the greatest gift is simply this — letting them know:

You are seen.
Your love still matters.
You don’t have to carry it alone.

valentines day ideas to help see a widow where her pain exists on valentines day.

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Valentine’s Day can be especially difficult for widows because it highlights what has been lost while the love itself remains deeply present. While the world celebrates romance and togetherness, many widows carry both enduring love and profound absence at the same time. Images like these reflect that quiet reality — the stillness, the weight, the longing — without needing words. They help name what is often unseen: that a widow’s grief is not about a lack of love, but about loving fully in a world that no longer knows where to place it.

Grief fog, emotional whiplash, and nervous system protection

why “I was okay… and then I wasn’t” is normal

One of the most unsettling parts of grief isn’t the pain.

It’s the sudden shifts.

You wake up and feel almost steady. You answer an email. You make a plan. For a moment, life feels manageable.

And then — without warning — the floor drops out.

Your chest tightens. Tears come fast. Everything feels heavy and unreal again.

The swing is so abrupt it can make you wonder:

Was that calm fake?
Am I going backward?
Why can’t I stay in one place emotionally?

What you’re experiencing is not instability.

It’s protection.

Grief fog is not confusion — it’s a buffering system

Grief fog often feels like:

• mental slowness

• difficulty concentrating

• feeling detached or distant

• trouble tracking conversations

• a sense of unreality

This can be frightening, especially if you’ve always been clear-minded or high-functioning.

But grief fog isn’t your brain failing.

It’s your nervous system reducing input when the emotional load is too high.

When loss overwhelms the system:

• attention narrows

• sensory detail softens

• emotional distance increases

This is the brain saying,
We cannot take all of this in at once.

Fog is not avoidance.
It’s mercy.

Why calm can appear suddenly — and disappear just as fast

Many widows feel ashamed when moments of calm appear.

They wonder if it means:

• they’re “doing grief wrong”

• they’re forgetting

• they’re minimizing the loss

But calm doesn’t mean grief is gone.

It means a different part of the brain has come back online.

Grief involves rapid switching between brain systems:

• attachment and threat networks activate during pain

• the prefrontal cortex (reasoning, grounding) re-engages during calm

These shifts can happen quickly — sometimes within minutes.

So the experience of:
“I was okay… and then I wasn’t”

is not regression.

It’s the nervous system cycling between states.

This back-and-forth is how the brain prevents overwhelm.

Emotional whiplash is common — especially in early grief

In widowhood, emotional whiplash can feel extreme because every area of life has been touched by the loss.

Home.
Identity.
Future.
Security.
Belonging.

When everything is connected to the same absence, the system doesn’t get clear breaks.

So the brain alternates:

• immersion in grief

• temporary reprieve

Again and again.

This oscillation is known in grief science as dual-process coping — the natural movement between:

• loss-oriented states (pain, yearning, tears)

• restorative states (neutral focus, small moments of functioning)

You are not supposed to stay in one state.

You are supposed to move.

Why fog often lifts before the sadness does

Many widows notice something strange:

• the fog clears

• thinking sharpens

• orientation returns

But the sadness remains.

This can feel confusing.

But it makes sense physiologically.

As the stress response settles:

• oxygen and carbon dioxide balance improves

• muscle tension decreases

• the brain regains clarity

Emotion lingers longer than confusion.

So when you feel clearer but still sad, nothing has gone wrong.

Your body simply completed one part of the stress cycle.

Gentle ways to work with fog and whiplash

You don’t need to fight these states.

You can support them.

• Name what’s happening
  “This is fog.” “This is a shift.” Naming reduces fear.

• Lower expectations during fog
  This is not the time for decisions or deep conversations.

• Orient gently when clarity returns
  Notice where you are. What feels solid. Let yourself re-enter slowly.

• Trust the rhythm
  Calm does not mean forgetting. Pain does not mean failure.

No forcing.
No fixing.

Just cooperation.

What your nervous system is really doing

When grief swings between fog, pain, and brief calm, your body is not betraying you.

It’s pacing the loss.

It’s protecting you from carrying the full weight all at once.

It’s keeping you alive inside a world that no longer matches the one you knew.

A sentence to return to when the shifts feel scary

The movement between fog, pain, and calm is not instability — it is the nervous system protecting you from overwhelm as you grieve.

You are not broken because you change throughout the day.

You are surviving something that changed everything.

Closing the series

Grief is not one feeling.
It is a process moving through a body.

Waves rise and settle.
Tears release pressure.
Fog buffers what’s too much.
Calm returns — not as closure, but as breath.

None of this means the loss mattered less.

It means your body is doing what it was designed to do:
carry love, survive rupture, and bring you back to yourself — again and again.

Why crying helps the body release grief and why holding it in makes it harder

For many widows, crying feels dangerous.

Not emotionally — physically.

There’s a fear that once tears start, something will break open that can’t be contained. That the body will spiral. That the wave will grow instead of pass.

So many widows learn to do this instead:

• swallow hard

• tighten the jaw

• distract

• hold their breath

• wait it out

It looks like strength.

But inside the body, something else is happening.

Crying is not a loss of control — it’s a nervous system response

Emotional crying is not the same as panic or emotional collapse.

It’s a biological response that involves multiple systems working together:

• emotion processing

• breath

• facial muscles

• tear glands

• autonomic nervous system regulation

When grief rises, the sympathetic nervous system activates — heart rate increases, muscles tighten, breath shortens.

Crying often appears near the peak of that activation.

Not as a failure — but as a signal that the body has reached its limit and is beginning to release.

What research shows about crying and time

Studies on emotional crying consistently show:

• most crying episodes last 5–20 minutes

• intense crying rarely sustains beyond 30 minutes unless re-triggered

• after crying, many people report:

  • calmer breathing

  • reduced tension

  • emotional softening

  • a sense of release

This doesn’t mean people feel “better.”

It means the stress response has begun to complete its cycle.

The grief remains.
The intensity shifts.

Why holding back tears often prolongs distress

Suppressing tears doesn’t stop the wave.

It interrupts the body’s attempt to regulate.

When tears are held back:

• muscle tension stays high

• breath remains shallow

• stress hormones linger longer

• emotional pressure builds internally

This is why widows often say:
“I didn’t cry — but I felt worse afterward.”

The wave had nowhere to go.

Crying isn’t what overwhelms the body.
Unreleased activation does.

The moment tears come is often the turning point

Many widows notice a pattern they’ve never been told to trust:

• intensity builds

• pressure peaks

• tears come

• breath loosens

• fog begins to thin

Crying doesn’t end grief.

But it often marks the crest of the wave — the point where the nervous system begins to downshift.

The storm hasn’t passed.
But the worst of the wind has moved through.

When crying feels frightening or out of control

Some widows experience crying that feels panicky, breathless, or destabilizing.

This usually happens when:

• grief is layered with trauma

• the body is already exhausted

• the nervous system has been in high alert for too long

• tears are mixed with fear of the tears

In these moments, crying isn’t the problem.

The fear around the crying is.

Supporting the body — rather than stopping the tears — is what helps.

Gentle ways to support crying without forcing it

This is not about “letting it all out.”

It’s about staying with the body while it releases.

You might try:

• placing a hand on your chest or stomach

• allowing your breath to lengthen naturally after a sob

• sitting or lying down so the body doesn’t have to hold itself up

• letting your face soften instead of clenching

Nothing dramatic.
Nothing performative.

Just support.

What crying is actually saying

Crying is not saying:
“I can’t handle this.”

It’s saying:

• This matters.

• This hurts.

• I need release.

Tears are not regression.
They are communication.

They are the body speaking when words are insufficient.

A sentence to hold when tears come

Crying often marks the peak of a grief wave, and allowing it can help the nervous system begin to settle rather than prolong distress.

You are not unraveling when you cry.
You are releasing what your body can no longer carry silently.

Coming next

In the next post, we’ll talk about grief fog, sudden calm, and emotional whiplash — and why going from “I’m okay” to “this is unbearable” and back again is not instability, but protection.

Because once widows understand that, they stop judging themselves for surviving.

Want to learn more and find some practical helps? You can purchase The Impact of Grief Ebook

This article explains why crying during grief can help the nervous system release stress rather than make grief worse. It explores emotional crying, stress hormones, and parasympathetic regulation in widowhood, showing how tears often mark the peak of a grief wave and help the body settle. This science-informed grief education helps widows understand their tears, reduce fear around crying, and trust their body’s natural responses to loss.

How long grief waves last and why they feel endless when you're in them

One of the most fear-inducing parts of grief isn’t the pain itself.

It’s the fear that it won’t stop.

A wave hits and your body tightens. Your breath shortens. Your chest aches. Tears come fast or not at all. Thinking narrows until everything feels urgent and unbearable.

And somewhere inside, a quiet panic forms:

What if this never settles?

That fear makes grief harder than it needs to be.

So let’s talk honestly — and accurately — about what’s happening inside the body when a grief wave hits.

Acute grief waves have a biological time course

When grief surges, the body enters an acute stress response.

This involves:

• activation of the sympathetic nervous system

• release of stress hormones like adrenaline and cortisol

• narrowing of attention and heightened emotional intensity

This state feels all-consuming — but it is not infinite.

Across stress-response and affective neuroscience research, there is a consistent finding:

The body cannot maintain peak physiological arousal indefinitely.

In most people:

• acute emotional surges peak and begin to resolve within about 10–30 minutes

• even very intense waves usually soften within 20–45 minutes

• longer episodes often involve re-triggering, not a single uninterrupted wave

This doesn’t mean the sadness disappears.
It means the intensity begins to shift.

The wave moves.

Why grief feels endless while it’s happening

If grief waves are time-limited, why do they feel infinite?

Because during high emotional arousal, the brain’s sense of time changes.

When the stress response is active:

• the prefrontal cortex (reasoning, time awareness) goes partially offline

• the brain shifts into threat-based processing

• the present moment expands and stretches

This is why:

• five minutes can feel like an hour

• you lose track of time while crying

• you feel trapped inside the moment

This isn’t imagination or exaggeration.
It’s how the brain works under stress.

So when a widow says, “It felt like it would never end,” she’s telling the truth — about the experience, not the biology.

Crying often marks the crest of the wave

Many people worry that crying is what keeps a grief wave going.

In reality, emotional crying often happens near the peak of the stress response.

Studies on crying show that:

• most crying episodes last 5–20 minutes

• crying can activate parasympathetic (calming) pathways

• after crying, many people report some degree of relief or settling

Crying doesn’t end grief.
But it often helps the body complete a stress cycle.

Tears are not the wave getting worse.
They are often the wave turning.

Why waves repeat throughout the day

Grief rarely comes as one long, steady experience.

Instead, it moves in cycles.

This is explained by what grief researchers call dual-process coping — the natural oscillation between:

• loss-oriented states (pain, yearning, tears)

• restorative states (neutral focus, functioning, brief calm)

Your brain cannot stay fully immersed in loss all day.

So it moves you in and out.

In early widowhood, this can happen:

• multiple times an hour

• dozens of times a day

This isn’t emotional instability.
It’s neurobiological protection.

The body is dosing the pain.

When waves last longer — what that usually means

Sometimes grief waves feel longer, heavier, or harder to come out of.

This usually isn’t because the grief itself is “stronger.”

Common reasons include:

• exhaustion or sleep deprivation

• hunger or dehydration

• cumulative stress

• repeated memory activation or rumination

• lack of any settling input (rest, support, grounding)

In these cases, waves may:

• stack back-to-back

• feel like one long surge

• take longer to soften

This is nervous system overload, not failure.

And it’s addressable.

Gentle practices that can help a wave move through

Nothing here is about stopping grief.
These practices simply help the body do what it already knows how to do: settle after a surge.

You don’t need to do all of these.
Even one is enough.

• Name the wave
  Quietly saying, “This is a wave,” can reduce panic and help the body stay with the experience.

• Support the breath without forcing it
  Let your breath lengthen naturally. Even placing a hand on your chest can signal safety.

• Reduce stimulation
  Lower lights. Sit or lie down. Fewer inputs help the nervous system exit high alert.

• Allow the tears
  If they come, let them come. Resisting often prolongs distress.

• Orient gently when the fog lifts
  Notice where you are. What you can see. What feels solid. This helps the brain re-anchor.

These are not fixes.
They are permissions.

A sentence to return to mid-wave

Most grief waves rise and begin to settle within minutes, even when the pain feels endless — because the nervous system is designed to crest and fall, not stay in peak distress.

You are not failing because it hurts this much.
You are surviving something that hurts this much.

Coming next

In the next post, we’ll look closely at why crying helps instead of harms, what’s happening in the nervous system during tears, and how to stop fearing the moment emotion breaks through.

Because understanding that changes everything for widows who’ve learned to hold it all in.

Why grief can feel like a storm and what your body is actually telling you.

Grief rarely arrives as something gentle.

It comes like weather — sudden, disorienting, and powerful enough to change the landscape of your inner world without asking permission.

One moment you are functioning.
The next, your chest tightens, your breath shortens, your thoughts scatter, and something inside you braces as if danger has entered the room.

This is why grief so often feels like a storm.

Not because you are dramatic.
Not because you are unstable.
But because your body is responding to loss exactly the way it is designed to respond to threat.

A sudden loss creates a pressure shift inside the body

In a physical storm, the air pressure changes before the rain ever falls. The body senses it first.

Grief works the same way.

When someone you love is suddenly absent, your nervous system does not interpret that as “sad news.” It interprets it as a rupture in safety and attachment.

So the body responds:

• Heart rate increases

• Breathing becomes shallow or tight

• Muscles brace

• Thinking narrows

• Emotions surge quickly and intensely

This is not emotional weakness.
It is the acute stress response activating to protect you.

Your body is trying to survive a world that no longer makes sense.

Grief moves in waves because the body cannot hold everything at once

One of the most confusing parts of grief is how it comes and goes.

You may feel relatively okay one moment — and then suddenly overwhelmed the next. The shift can be fast enough to make you wonder if something is wrong with you.

What’s actually happening is this:

The nervous system cannot stay at peak intensity indefinitely.

When grief surges, the body enters a high-alert state. Stress hormones rise. Attention narrows. Emotion intensifies.

But that state is not sustainable.

So the body does what it is designed to do:
it crests — and then begins to settle.

Within a single day, grief often moves in waves:

• rising suddenly

• peaking intensely

• then easing enough for breath, clarity, or orientation to return

The loss does not disappear.
But the wave passes.

This cycling is not instability.
It is protection.

Crying is often part of the release, not the problem

Many people fear the moment tears arrive.

“If I start crying, I won’t stop.”
“If I let this out, I’ll fall apart.”

But emotional crying is not usually what prolongs a grief wave. In many cases, it signals that the body has reached the crest of the stress response.

Crying activates calming pathways in the nervous system. It can help shift the body out of high alert and toward settling.

The tears do not mean the storm is getting worse.
They often mean pressure is being released.

The fog is not failure — it’s protection

Alongside the waves, many people experience fog.

Thinking feels slow.
Words don’t land.
The world feels distant or unreal.

This fog is not confusion or denial.

When the nervous system is overloaded, clarity is often the first thing to go. Narrowing awareness helps protect the brain from taking in more than it can handle.

As the wave settles, many people notice:

• the fog thinning

• orientation returning

• the ability to engage coming back online

This does not mean the grief is gone.
It means the body found its way back to you again.

What your body is actually saying

When grief feels like a storm, your body is not saying,
“Something is wrong with you.”

It is saying:

• This loss matters.

• I am trying to keep you safe.

• We cannot carry all of this at once.

The waves, the tears, the fog, the sudden quiet — these are not signs of failure.

They are signs of a nervous system working hard to survive love that was torn away.

A sentence to return to when the wind picks up

Grief moves through the body in waves, and while the loss remains, the nervous system is designed to rise, crest, and settle — even when the storm feels overwhelming.

You don’t have to control the storm.
You don’t have to rush the calm.

You could try saying this out loud as a reminder:

“This wave will move.
My body knows how to come back.”

Telling yourself this often will remind your brain and body of these simple truths and help regulate you, and build trust with your process.

I hope this help!

Sending yo uso much love,

Kimber

Coming next in this series

In the next posts, we’ll slow this down and look more closely at what’s happening inside the body — including:

• how long grief waves typically last and why they feel endless

• why crying often helps complete the stress cycle

• and what to do when waves don’t seem to settle at all

Understanding the body doesn’t take the pain away.
But it does remove the fear — and fear is often what makes grief harder than it already is.

Grief often feels like a storm because it moves through the body in waves. In this post, I explain what happens in the nervous system after the loss of a spouse — including grief surges, emotional fog, crying, and sudden shifts between calm and overwhelm. This grief education is designed specifically for widows who feel confused by their body’s responses and want a science-informed, compassionate understanding of why grief comes and goes. Understanding how grief waves work can reduce fear, normalize physical symptoms of grief, and help widows trust their body during acute grief.

why widows need body-based support | grief impact + natural options

Why widowhood feels so physically hard, and how somatic support can help you carry it

When your husband dies, it isn’t only your heart that breaks.

It’s your whole life that seems to crack open.

Your co-parent.
Your partner in decisions.
Your shared income.
Your witness.
Your future.
Your person who helped you breathe through hard days.

And somehow — impossibly — life keeps moving forward.
Decisions still need to be made.
Questions still get asked.
Systems don’t pause.
And your body is required to keep showing up, even when everything inside has been shattered.

If you’ve ever wondered why widowhood feels so physical — why your body reacts like you’re living in an emergency — there is a reason.

Not a “something is wrong” reason.
A nervous-system that is protecting you reason.

Because grief doesn’t live only in the heart.

It lives in the body that had to survive the loss.

Widowhood Is Grief Under Load

Widowhood isn’t just missing someone.

It’s missing him while still having to:

• make every decision alone

• keep the house running

• carry the parenting weight

• manage money stress

• show up to work

• answer questions you don’t even have words for

• keep going when you don’t feel like you can

So the grief doesn’t “settle.”

It stacks.

And the body responds the way bodies respond when the load is too much for too long.

What Grief Can Feel Like in the Nervous System

During my husband’s cancer journey — including a failed bone marrow transplant — my body learned to brace itself

I lived depleted.

And after he died in 2019, that bracing didn’t dissipate.
The stress didn’t end.
It shifted into a new kind of constant that felt even more heavy laden.

I’ve known:

• uncontrollable hyperventilating

• panic that rises out of nowhere

• night sweats

• sleep that won’t come — or won’t stay

• a nervous system that never fully powers down

If you’ve lived anything like this, I want you to hear this clearly:

This isn’t you being dramatic.
This isn’t you being “too sensitive.”
This isn’t a lack of faith.

This is your body carrying what love and loss demanded.

Bereavement research shows that grief can affect multiple systems at once — stress regulation, immune and inflammatory pathways, sleep cycles, cognition, and autonomic nervous system rhythms (fight/flight and rest/digest).
In other words: grief shows up in the body because you’re human, not because you’re broken.

Why Words Don’t Help — and “Just Relax” Feels Cruel

Some advice sounds harmless until you’re the one living it.

“Try to relax.”
“You just need to sleep.”
“Choose joy.”

But widowhood is a major life rupture.

And your nervous system isn’t malfunctioning — it’s doing exactly what it was designed to do when safety is disrupted and responsibility is relentless.

What widows need isn’t pressure to feel better, or to perform.

It’s support to feel grounded so we can keep moving on one step at a time.

how your sense of smell can help When Grief Is in the Body

This is where gentle sensory support — especially scent — becomes something more than “nice.”

A 2025 review published in Plants and available through PubMed Central describes aromatherapy and essential oils as complementary approaches that may support wellbeing related to stress, sleep, mood, and fatigue.

Here’s the part that matters for widows:

Inhaled aromatic compounds interact with the olfactory system, which is directly connected to brain regions involved in emotion, memory, and stress regulation — the same regions grief impacts most deeply.

This is why scent can feel immediate.
Why it bypasses logic.
Why it lands in the body before words do.

This isn’t about erasing grief.

It’s about giving your body a cue of steadiness inside the grief.

A few minutes of an encouraging or grounding scent paired with breath can become a sensory anchor — something your body recognizes as:

Right now, I can breathe.

Not because life feels normal again, or you have temporarily forgotten your pain.
But because you are being supported inside of your new reality.

Somatic Support: Helping the Body Carry What the Heart Is Carrying

Grief is not only something we think about. Or that happens to us.

It’s something we hold.

That’s why body-based practices are often kinder than mindset shifts.
They don’t demand positivity.
They don’t rush acceptance. They see what has happened and recognize it’s impact.

They offer the nervous system a different experience.

Try This When the Wave Hits

The Long Exhale Reset

• Put both feet on the floor

• One hand on your chest, one on your belly

• Inhale through the nose for 4

• Exhale slowly for 6–8

• Repeat 6 times

If you want, pair it with a scent you associate with steadiness.

You’re not denying grief.
You’re telling your body it doesn’t have to brace quite so hard for the next minute.

Widow-Specific Aromatic Support Rhythms

(Simple. Doable. No pressure.)

These are not prescriptions.
They are rhythms many widows naturally resonate with when the body is wired, exhausted, or overwhelmed.

For Sleep When Your Body Won’t Land

• Oils: Lavender + Cedarwood

• Practice: Long exhales in bed

• Breath prayer:
  Inhale: “God, you are with me.”
  Exhale: “You will never leave.”

For Mornings When Dread Hits First

• Oils: Orange or Grapefruit

• Practice: Open curtains, sip warm water, breathe before screens

• Anchor phrase: “I am here. God is here.”

For Decision-Making When Panic Rises

• Oils: Bergamot or Vetiver

• Practice: Box breathing (4-4-4-4) before the call, errand, or appointment

For Grounding When You Feel Unreal or Unsteady

• Oils: Frankincense or Vetiver

• Practice: Press feet into the floor. Name 5 things you can see.

• Ask gently: What is one next right thing?

Writing + breathing: How Widows Process Without Being Overwhelmed

This pairing matters more than most people realize.

Writing helps the brain integrate experience — giving grief somewhere to go instead of spinning endlessly inside the body.

When you add the benefits of essential oils, you give your nervous system a cue of safety + emotional support while you write.

That combination often makes it possible to stay present without getting swallowed.

The Gratefuls Practice

Use a comforting essential oil while you write.

12 small gratefuls (last 24 hours):

• hot water in the shower

• a text that didn’t demand anything

• a moment your shoulders dropped

• a song that felt like company

• a meal you didn’t have to think too hard about

3 large gratefuls:

• God’s presence

• Survival through an unwanted season

• A life that still holds meaning, even with pain

This doesn’t deny grief.

It widens the nervous system’s capacity to hold more than one truth at once.

Why I Personally Believe in This Support

I don’t share this as theory.

I share it because my body reached places words could not express.

Essential oils didn’t fix my grief.
They didn’t remove my loss.

But they gave my nervous system something steady to lean into and hold onto when everything else felt unsteady.

They helped me breathe when panic wanted to take over.
Sleep when my body wouldn’t land.
Stay present when the weight felt unbearable.

And over time, that really mattered and made a tremendous difference.

A Gentle Next Step (If You Feel Yourself Here)

If you’re reading this and thinking:

“I don’t need another thing — but I do need support,”

I understand.

I’ve put together some simple options for widows to find and explore using essential oils for nervous-system support.

You will find:

• which oils I personally use and recommend for widows or those grieving

• ways to use them simply (no overwhelm)

• why these matter to me and how I use them

👉 [Explore essential oils for widowhood / grief support here]

A Closing Word for Widows

If your body still feels on edge, it doesn’t mean you’re failing.

It means you loved.
It means you lost.
It means you are still adjusting to the weight of carrying these two things at once.

And there are gentle, natural supports that can help you carry it — breath, body, scent, writing, prayer — small anchors that remind your nervous system:

You are not alone in this.

Research Referenced

• Seiler et al., The Psychobiology of Bereavement — impacts on stress, immune, and autonomic pathways.

• Caballero-Gallardo et al. (2025), Aromatherapy and Essential Oils as Complementary Wellbeing Support, Plants.

Widowhood grief affects more than emotions — it impacts the nervous system, sleep, stress regulation, cognition, and the body itself. Many widows experience physical symptoms of grief such as anxiety, panic, exhaustion, disrupted sleep, and nervous system overload following the loss of a spouse. Research in bereavement psychology and psychobiology shows that prolonged grief and caregiving stress can influence autonomic nervous system rhythms, immune and inflammatory pathways, and overall wellbeing. Gentle, body-based support — including somatic practices, breathwork, journaling, prayer, and sensory tools like essential oils — may help widows support nervous system regulation and carry grief with steadiness. This post offers grief-informed, natural support options for widows seeking holistic, faith-rooted ways to care for their bodies while navigating loss.

Evergreen Grief: Why Widowhood Doesn’t “Move On” — and Why That Matters

There is a kind of grief that doesn’t fade with time.
It doesn’t resolve neatly.
It doesn’t follow the rules people expect.

For widows, grief often becomes something else entirely — not something to get through, but something we learn to live with.

I’ve come to call this evergreen grief.

Evergreen grief doesn’t mean constant sorrow.
It means lasting presence.
It means love that doesn’t disappear just because life keeps moving.

And for many widows, this reality can feel confusing — even isolating — especially when the world expects healing to look like closure.

Widowhood Grief Is Different

Widowhood isn’t just the loss of a person.
It’s the loss of a shared life, shared rhythms, shared future assumptions.

It affects:

• identity

• nervous system regulation

• memory and meaning

• daily orientation to the world

Widows often carry multiple forms of grief at once — acute grief, cumulative grief, ambiguous loss, relational grief, and secondary losses layered over time. That’s why widowhood grief doesn’t move in a straight line.

It stays.
It shifts.
It grows alongside you.

Like an evergreen forest.

The Walk No One Prepared You For

After loss, many widows describe feeling like they’ve stepped into unfamiliar terrain.

The path behind them is still visible — sometimes painfully close.
The path ahead feels unclear, uneven, or quietly lonely.
And the life they once walked alongside their husband no longer exists in the same way.

This isn’t failure.
It’s not a lack of faith.
It’s not being “stuck.”

It’s learning how to walk a new path that veered unexpectedly.

Why Language Matters for Widows

When grief doesn’t fit the models we’re given, we often turn that confusion inward.

Widows begin to wonder:

• Why does this still feel so close?

• Why hasn’t time fixed this?

• Why do I feel both strength and exhaustion?

• Why does love still ache?

click to purchase

Naming evergreen grief gives widows permission to stop questioning their own experience.

It offers language where there was only self-doubt.

A Walk Through the Forest

This is why I wrote A Walk Through the Forest: The Evergreen Grief of a Widow.

Not to explain grief.
Not to hurry healing.
Not to offer a formula.

But to walk with widows through the terrain they’re already navigating.

This book uses forest imagery, reflection, and grief-informed understanding to help widows:

• recognize the permanence and presence of love

• understand why grief stays close

• feel less alone in their experience

• move gently, without pressure, toward meaning and life again

It’s not a map.
It’s a walk.

For the Widow Reading This

If you’ve ever felt like your grief didn’t fit the timelines or expectations around you —
If you’ve wondered whether you’re doing this wrong —
If you’ve carried both sorrow and life at the same time and didn’t know how to explain it —

You’re not broken.
You’re not behind.
You’re not failing.

You are walking evergreen ground.

And every step matters.

Explore the Ebook

A Walk Through the Forest: The Evergreen Grief of a Widow is now available in the Essentially Loved Resource Store.

This gentle, grief-informed Christian ebook is written for widows who need language, companionship, and understanding — not pressure or platitudes.

→ [Explore the ebook here]

7 Goals That Actually Matter for Widows in 2026

Losing your husband is disorienting.
There’s no easing into it. Grief doesn’t arrive gently—it takes you out. It knocks you flat on your face.

You try to get up, but the energy it takes just to stand leaves your legs shaky. The thought of walking forward—of moving into a life shaped by this kind of loss—feels beyond exhausting. Overwhelming in ways you didn’t know were possible.

Over time, you find a rhythm.
You learn how to get through the days. How to function. How to survive.

And for a while, survival feels like enough.

But somewhere along the way, a quieter question starts to surface—one you might not even say out loud:

Is survival really all there is now?

What if God has more for you than just surviving the death of your husband?
What if He honestly has more than just getting you through the day?

What about a life that still holds meaning?
What about purpose that doesn’t feel forced or fake?
What about moments that actually feel life-giving—the kind that settle your body, soften your thoughts, and remind you there is still goodness to be found, even here?

Because losing a spouse doesn’t just break your heart.

It changes how your brain works.
It changes how your body carries stress, fatigue, and emotion.
And it can quietly shift how you experience God, leaving Him feeling distant, muted, or harder to reach than He used to be.

Widowhood takes so much.
And yet… it also asks something new of us.

Not to move on.
Not to rush healing.

But to find a different rhythm—one that goes beyond survival and slowly opens space for life again.

That’s what these seven goals are about.

Not resolutions.
Not pressure.
Just what actually matters for widows stepping into 2026.

7 goals to help a widow move out of survival mode in 2026

1. create a heart space for your grief

Grief needs to be felt and processed to move.

So many widows carry the load internally—processing in their heads, over and over again. Ruminating. Over time, that kind of carrying becomes exhausting.

Making a heart space is about permission.

Permission to pause.
Permission to feel.
Permission to be honest.

This might look like creating a physical Grief Nook—a cozy chair, a journal, a wrap, a few meaningful objects. And time, time to be intentional. Time set aside where grief is allowed to exist without interruption.

Grief moves differently, more freely, when it knows it has a safe place to land and process.
And so do you. Having a physical space designed specifically to hold you well as you try new ways of processing the loss you carry with you — helps you to feel safe, seen, held and free to release.

2. Help your body feel safe

Grief doesn’t only live in the heart—it lives in the body.

After loss, the nervous system often stays on high alert. Sleep changes. Startle responses increase. Rest feels shallow or unreachable.

You can’t think your way out of that. Ruminating won’t resolve this.

Helping your body feel safe again might look like gentle grounding techniques, breath prayers, sensory awareness, or stillness. Small, repeated practices matter more than big efforts.

Science tells us that consistency helps the nervous system relearn safety. But even without knowing the science, most widows feel it when their body finds ways to exhale.

This isn’t about fixing the loss… because we can’t.
It’s about caring for yourself, and reminding yourself you are still safe and held in the midst of the ache.

3. Finding new ways to Sit with Jesus in your grief

Grief changes faith.

Prayer time shifts.
Scripture lands differently.
God can feel quieter—distant.

Many widows carry this unspoken thought:
”I don’t know how to be with God like I used to. I’m just not feeling it.”

God hasn’t changed but our ability to be present, connect, and feel safe in this world has..
This leads us to an invitation.

Sitting with Jesus in your grief and building authentic connection can look and feel very different after an extreme loss. Sometimes it looks like silence. Sometimes brutal honesty. Sometimes it’s a creative process. Often it is by engaging the imagination differently.

Jesus isn’t waiting for you to be “better.”
He’s already here. Right in the midst. He understands + loves you in the most tender way.

He sees you.

4. Practice gratitude without pretending

Gratitude after loss can feel very complicated.

It’s often mistaken for denial or forced positivity—and that’s not what this is about. At all.

This isn’t about slapping a grateful face on a broken heart or convincing yourself things are okay when they’re not.

And yet… there’s something important here.

Consistent gratitude practices are known to support the brain and nervous system, especially after trauma. They don’t erase pain—but they do help the mind notice moments of safety and goodness alongside grief, not instead of it.

That matters.

Because grief keeps the brain on high alert. And gratitude, practiced gently and honestly, can help soften anxiety and bring the nervous system out of constant bracing.

One simple rhythm many widows find supportive looks like this:

• noticing small, everyday moments that don’t hurt

• returning to a few big anchors that have carried you over time

Noticing doesn’t mean celebrating.
It just means allowing your brain to register something neutral or good without arguing with it.

Over time, this kind of practice helps different parts of the brain work together more smoothly. It creates small shifts—less looping, a little more breath, a little more space.

This isn’t about pretending life is okay.
It’s about helping your brain remember that goodness still exists in the middle of grief.

And sometimes, that’s enough for today.

GOAL 4 - Try listing 12 small gratefuls from the last 24 hours — little things you are thankful fo. And list 3 BIG gratefuls over the span of your life. Make a daily practice of this.

5. Move in ways that help grief move

Grief lives in the body.

Unprocessed emotion often shows up as tension, fatigue, pain, illness or restlessness. Thoughts loop. Emotions and experiences get stuck.

And surprisingly, movement doesn’t have to be an intense workout to be effective.

Walking. Stretching. Dancing. A gentle rhythm. Breathing while moving.

Somatic practices help emotions complete their cycle instead of lodging inside the body. Over time, movement can soften anxiety, bring clarity, and help your system release what it’s been holding.

In 2026, let movement be about listening, relaxing + releasing—not pushing.

6. Connection of the heart

Grief isolates in quiet ways.

Not always because people leave—but because it becomes harder to know how to share what’s real. You don’t want to overwhelm anyone. You don’t want to manage their reactions. Sometimes you don’t even know where to start.

Connection doesn’t have to mean a crowd.

It might be one trusted friend.
It might be a small grief group.
It might be intentional conversation where honesty is welcome and fixing or resolving is not the goal.

Grief moves differently when it’s witnessed. When it is held with care and kindness.

This is the heart behind The Widow’s Table Challenge—a six-week invitation into intentional, grief-informed conversation for widows and the friends who want to love them well.

No platitudes.
No pressure.
Just space to speak and be heard.

If you want more information on this sign up for the newsletter below. It will be coming out in January.

7. Letting your love go somewhere again

One of the quieter, less recognized, losses in widowhood is this:
your love suddenly has nowhere to go.

Your encouragement.
Your care.
Your tenderness.

Many widows unconsciously tuck this away, believing it’s safer not to offer too much of themselves. Or believing they don’t have the energy or will to offer it.

But we were created to love others. Love that has nowhere to go doesn’t disappear—it turns inward and grows heavy.

Letting your love go somewhere again doesn’t mean getting into a romantic relationship, or over-giving, or rescuing. It simply means allowing the gift of you, or something you have to offer, to be shared in a way that feels safe and life-giving.

Love is still a part of who you are. What you still carry and still have to offer.
And someone, somewhere, in this broken world needs what God has given you to offer.

Something thoughtful, something small, or big. A kind word, a thoughtful card, a meal…

2026 Goal - make a weekly pattern of giving some love and encouragement from your heart to another.

A word about time - Schedule it, write it down.

Grief has a way of distorting time.

Days blur.
Weeks slip by.
Months pass and you wonder where they went. And change can be hard.

This is where writing things down can be quietly powerful—not to track progress, but to help your brain light up. What fires together, wires together.

Journaling your grief experiences, recording your daily gratefuls, planning your weekly gives, or simply recording small rhythms can help anchor meaning in a season that often feels scattered.

This mattered.
I mattered.
This moment counted.

A gentle invitation

If this resonated, recognize that you’re not behind.
You noticed, you’re paying attention, and you are headed into new areas.

Through my newsletter, I share:

• Grief Nook setup ideas

• Somatic practices for nervous system care

• Journal rhythms that don’t add pressure

• Science-informed grief support

• Details about The Widow’s Table Challenge

No fixing.
No rushing.
Just thoughtful + kind care for yourself in the wake of deep loss.

You are so welcome here. Just as you are.
And you’re welcome at the table.

Widows, do you need help moving beyond survival mode? Here are 7 steps you can make a priority in 2026.

Widowhood impacts the brain, body, faith, and relationships in profound ways that often go unseen. This grief-informed reflection offers widows practical and compassionate guidance for life after the loss of a husband, including nervous system support, somatic grief practices, spiritual connection with Jesus, honest relationships, and community care. Written for widows seeking meaning beyond survival, this article explores holistic grief support, faith after loss, and relational healing through intentional practices and safe connection. Additional resources, including grief journaling, Grief Nook setup, somatic tools, and the Widow’s Table Challenge, are available through ongoing support shared by the author.

Essential Oils & Practices for Grief Support for Widows | Supporting the body, brain, breath, and heart.

Grief isn’t just emotional…

For widows, it lives in the nervous system, the gut, the immune response, the muscles, memory, and the breath.

Sleep is disrupted.
Pain increases.
Appetite changes.
The body stays on alert.
The mind feels foggy or overwhelmed.

This is not happening because you are weak.
It is grief doing what grief does.

Because grief lives in the body, it helps to have practices that support the body—with honesty. care, patience, and love.

Essential oils work by engaging these systems through scent, skin, and internal pathways, helping the body settle enough to process what the heart is carrying. Paired with embodied practices—breath prayer, writing, stillness, gratitude—they become loving companions in widowhood.

Not to avoid or repress grief.
But to help you stay present while you carry it.

How Oils + Practices Support Grief

Scent communicates directly with the limbic system—the part of the brain connected to emotion, memory, and safety. Writing engages both sides of the brain, allowing emotion and meaning to work together. Breath anchors the nervous system in the present moment.

Together, these practices:

• support nervous system regulation

• soften chronic stress responses

• help integrate memory and emotion

• create space for prayerful presence

They don’t erase sorrow.
They hold space for it.

1. Sleep

Settling the nervous system into rest

What it supports

• Parasympathetic (rest-and-restore) activation

• Reduced nighttime stimulation + alertness

• Deeper, more consistent sleep rhythms

Why it works
Certain plant compounds influence GABA activity, limbic calm, and cortisol rhythms—all essential for sleep.

Use

Aromatic
Lavender • Roman Chamomile • Cedarwood (diffuse before bed)

Topical
Lavender + carrier oil on feet, chest, or back of neck

Internal
Lavender in warm tea or honey before sleep

Practice
Breath prayer in bed:
Inhale: “I am safe.”
Exhale: “I can rest.”

2. Waking Up — Uplifting & Hopeful

Gently re-engaging

What it supports

• Dopamine and serotonin signaling

• Mental clarity and motivation

• Emotional release without overstimulation

Why it works
Citrus and herbal oils stimulate alertness centers and mood pathways while supporting oxygen flow to the brain.

Use

Aromatic
Orange • Grapefruit • Rosemary

Topical
Orange + rosemary on wrists or back of neck

Internal
Lemon or orange in warm water on waking

Practice

• Open curtains

• Speak one hopeful truth aloud while inhaling

3. Calming While Taking Action

Steady focus without panic

What it supports

• Balanced nervous system tone

• Reduced cortisol during decision-making

• Calm energy for tasks that must be done

Why it works
These oils help regulate the stress response while maintaining mental clarity.

Use

Aromatic
Bergamot • Lavender • Vetiver

Topical
Roller on wrists before meetings, errands, or calls

Internal
Bergamot in tea before stressful tasks

Practice
Box breathing: inhale 4 / hold 4 / exhale 4 / hold 4

4. Grounding When You Feel Unstable

Re-anchoring when emotions feel shaky

What it supports

• Sensory orientation

• Vagal tone

• Emotional presence and embodiment

Why it works
Resinous and earthy oils connect sensory input to emotional regulation and physical awareness.

Use

Aromatic
Frankincense • Vetiver • Patchouli

Topical
Diluted oil on feet or along spine

Internal
Frankincense in capsule or drop under tongue

Practice

• Feet flat on the floor

• Name what you feel in your body while breathing

5. Anti-Inflammatory Support

Easing the physical toll of prolonged stress

What it supports

• Immune balance

• Reduced inflammatory signaling

• Tissue repair and recovery

Why it works
Many plant compounds influence inflammatory pathways and oxidative stress.

Use

Topical
Helichrysum • Ginger • Frankincense in carrier oil

Internal
Turmeric or frankincense blends with meals

Practice

• Gentle warmth (compress or blanket)

• Stillness afterward.

6. Pain Relief

Releasing tension and guarding

What it supports

• Circulation

• Muscle relaxation

• Pain perception modulation

Why it works
Cooling and calming oils influence nerve signaling and muscle response.

Use

Topical
Peppermint • Lavender • Eucalyptus (massage slowly)

Internal
Ginger or turmeric

Practice

• Long exhale breathing during massage

7. Digestion & Appetite

Restoring the gut–brain conversation

What it supports

• Digestive signaling

• Appetite awareness

• Reduced nausea and tightness

Why it works
The gut and nervous system are deeply connected; these oils support vagal tone and digestive comfort.

Use

Aromatic
Peppermint • Ginger • Lemon

Topical
Clockwise abdominal massage (diluted)

Internal
Peppermint or ginger tea
Lemon in water before meals

Practice

• Hand on belly

• Slow breaths before eating

8. Forgiveness & Emotional Softening

Letting go without bypassing

What it supports

• Emotional regulation

• Heart-centered processing

• Reduced emotional reactivity

Why it works
Floral oils engage emotional memory and parasympathetic response, supporting tenderness rather than defense.

Use

Aromatic
Rose • Bergamot • Ylang-ylang

Topical
Over the heart during reflection

Practice

• Write what hurts

• Then write what you’re releasing

9. Breath Prayers

Deepening connection through breath

What it supports

• Vagus nerve activation

• Emotional safety

• Prayerful presence

Why it works
Breath and scent together slow heart rate and anchor attention.

Use

Aromatic
Frankincense or lavender

Topical
Chest or palms before prayer

Practice

• Inhale 4 / Exhale 6–8

• Pair with sacred phrases

10. Journaling & Gratitude

Opening the mind and heart

What it supports

• Emotional integration

• Memory processing

• Creative expression

Why it works
Scent supports emotional safety while writing integrates brain hemispheres—bringing emotion and meaning back into conversation.

Use

Aromatic
Lavender • Rose • Bergamot

Topical
Roller on wrists while writing

Internal
Warm tea with citrus oil

Practice

• Write freely

• No fixing, no filtering

Gratefuls Practice

• Write 12 small gratefuls from the last 24 hours

• Write 3 large gratefuls across your lifetime

This practice helps the nervous system notice safety again and preserves what grief fog often tries to erase.

11. Emotional Regulation

When feelings come in waves

Supports

• Hormonal balance

• Nervous system steadiness

Blend
Clary Sage • Bergamot • Lavender

Practice

• Hand on chest

• Gentle rocking or swaying

12. Creative Clarity & Discernment

When grief fog dulls insight

Supports

• Focus

• Memory

• Inspired thinking

Blend
Basil • Rosemary • Lemon

Practice

• Use during creative journaling or prayerful listening

The Big Picture

Essential oils support grief by helping the body feel safe enough to:

• rest

• breathe

• digest

• soften

• feel

• and stay present

They don’t replace the work of grief.
They hold the body steady while the heart does it.

If you are a widow reading this, know this:
You are allowed to be supported.
Your body matters in your grief.
And gentle care is not a luxury—it is part of how you stay healthy and keep moving step by step.

natural ways to come alongside your grief and help it to become integrated within your body, mind and life as you move forward as a widow.

This article explores essential oils and embodied practices for grief support in widowhood, focusing on how grief affects the nervous system, body, brain, breath, digestion, sleep, pain, and emotional regulation. It offers holistic grief support for widows through essential oils used aromatically, topically, and internally, alongside practices such as breath prayer, journaling, gratitude, and nervous system regulation. This resource is designed for widows seeking gentle, faith-informed, body-based grief care that honors loss while supporting presence, integration, and daily life after death.

Why Christmas Hits Widows So Hard (And What Your Body Is Actually Experiencing)

Christmas is supposed to feel warm, right?

Cheery.
Hopeful.
Connected.

But for many widows, Christmas feels like the opposite.

It feels loud. Exposing.
Heavy in ways that don’t make sense until you realize this truth:

Christmas grief isn’t just emotional.
It’s physiological + physiological.

And once you understand what’s happening in the body and brain, a lot of the guilt starts to lift.

Grief Doesn’t Go on Holiday - Your Nervous System Knows That

Grief doesn’t live only in the heart. It lives in the nervous system.
In memory.
In muscle tension and breath and exhaustion.

Christmas brings a perfect storm of triggers:

• Familiar songs

• Traditions tied to someone who is gone

• Smells, places, routines

• Social expectations to “be okay”

Your brain doesn’t interpret these as neutral reminders.

It interprets them as threat cues.

So even if you want to enjoy Christmas, your body may already be bracing itself.

That’s a built in response intended to strengthen and protect your body, not weakness.
That’s biology.

The Science Behind Christmas Grief for Widows

This matters, because so many widows blame themselves or feel guilty for how hard the holidays feel.

Here’s what’s actually happening inside of you.

1. Grief Elevates Stress Hormones - Especially During the Holidays

Grief increases cortisol, the body’s primary stress hormone.
Holidays intensify this response because they activate memory, loss, and expectation all at once.

High cortisol can cause:

• Fatigue

• Brain fog

• Emotional numbness or overwhelm

• Heightened anxiety

Which explains why Christmas tasks that once felt simple now feel exhausting.

2. Your Brain Can’t Tell Past Loss from Present Danger

When grief is triggered, the brain responds as if the loss is happening now.

That’s why Christmas doesn’t just remind widows of who is missing —
it makes the absence feel immediate and visceral.

Your body reacts before your logic can catch up.

3. Loneliness Peaks During the Holidays — Even When You’re Not Alone

Widows are statistically more likely to experience loneliness during holidays, even when surrounded by people.

Togetherness can highlight absence.
Celebration can amplify grief.

Being invited doesn’t always equal feeling seen.

And that disconnect hurts.

4. Grief Impacts Focus, Memory, and Decision-Making

Widows often struggle with concentration during the holidays.

Not because they’re “stuck” - but because grief places a cognitive load on the brain.

Planning, organizing, responding, and socializing all require more effort than before.

Your brain is working harder than people realize.

Why Many Widows Pull Back at Christmas

This part often gets misunderstood.

Widows don’t withdraw because they don’t care.
They withdraw because they’re trying to regulate.

They are managing:

• Emotional exposure

• Social pressure

• Invisible grief

• The weight of missing someone in public

Sometimes staying home isn’t avoidance.

It’s self-protection.

You Are Not Failing Christmas

Let me say this clearly.

If Christmas feels heavy:

• You are not doing it wrong

• You are not spiritually immature

• You are not ungrateful

You are grieving.

And grief changes how the body experiences joy, noise, connection, and memory.

Even the Christmas story itself begins in vulnerability:
Displacement.
Fear.
Uncertainty.
A birth surrounded by instability.

Jesus did not arrive in a world of comfort.

He arrived in a world that was already aching.

Permission for holiday self care.

If you are a widow reading this, you are allowed to:

• Change traditions

• Say no without explanation

• Leave early

• Celebrate quietly

• Or not celebrate at all

God does not ask you to perform or to fake joy.

Scripture tells us:

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.” (Psalm 34:18)

Close.
Not corrective.
Not disappointed.
Not expecting you to feel better, do better.

Just to be present + honest.

One Last Thing I Want You to Know

Your grief doesn’t mean love is gone.
It means love still has weight.

And your body is carrying it the best way it knows how.

You are not broken beyond repair. Not at all.
You are responding to loss.

You are holding a love that hurts.

And you don’t have to carry it alone. God is truly with you. Right in the middle of the ache.

Christmas grief for widows is not just emotional—it is neurological and physiological. This article explains why the holidays intensify grief after the loss of a spouse, including how the brain processes memory, how the nervous system responds to holiday triggers, and why widows often feel exhausted, overwhelmed, or disconnected during Christmas. Written from a grief-informed and faith-centered perspective, this reflection helps widows understand the science behind holiday grief, release guilt, and find compassionate permission for self-care, altered traditions, and honest presence with God after loss.

When Grief Makes Your World Small: The Healing That Happens When You See Someone Else’s Story

There’s something I don’t think most people understand about grief — especially the kind that comes after losing your person.

It makes your world small.
Tight.
Closed in.

You don’t do it on purpose.
You’re not trying to shut people out.
It just… happens.

Your body is trying to survive.
Your mind is trying to make sense of a life that seemed to break down overnight.
And your spirit is trying to remember how to breathe in a world that suddenly feels unsafe.

So you fold inward.
You get quiet.
You stay in your head.
You live inside this awful ache because that’s the only place that feels real anymore.

But here’s the thing — and this is the part I wish I could sit across from every single widow and share:

There is something deeply healing that happens when you step outside your own story long enough to see someone else’s.

Not with effort.
Not with “I should.”
Not with pretending your grief isn’t heavy.

But with honesty… and a little courage… and the tiniest willingness to look up.

When I was drowning in my own grief — truly drowning — the only thing that helped me keep moving forward was entering into someone else’s story. Sitting with their pain. Seeing their grief truths. Letting God's love move through me even when I felt like I had nothing left.

And it’s wild, honestly… because it shouldn’t make sense.

How can pouring out love when you feel empty bring healing?
How can holding space for someone else while you’re shattered do anything but drain you?

But it doesn’t drain you.
Not when it’s real.
Not when you’re not forcing anything.
Not when it’s done in response to Jesus.

It actually ignites something.

I’ve felt it happen in real time — that quiet spark in my chest, that soft reminder that my story is not done, that God is somehow using my brokenness to breathe life into someone else.

That’s the Holy Spirit.
That’s love in action.
That’s what happens when grief meets compassion.

And there’s real science behind this, which honestly still amazes me.

When we enter someone else’s story with empathy — especially in shared suffering — the brain releases oxytocin. This is the “bonding” hormone. The “you’re safe with me” hormone. The “you’re not alone” signal our bodies desperately need.

It lowers cortisol — that stress hormone that grief sends skyrocketing.
It softens the nervous system.
It opens the heart and you begin to breathe again.

It reminds you that you still have feelings.
Still have love.
Still have the ability to give something meaningful even when you feel emptied out.

And this part is important:

This isn’t bypassing your own grief.
This isn’t minimizing your pain.
This isn’t trying to pretend you’re okay.

It’s the opposite.

It’s God meeting you in the raw center of your sorrow and saying, “Watch what we can do…”

Because when you step into someone else’s story — even for a moment — you’re not abandoning your own.
You’re letting Jesus shine a bit of His love through the cracks that have felt useless or unworthy.

And scripture backs this.
John tells us that perfect love casts out fear — not your strength, not your resilience, not your best attempts to be okay… love.

God’s love through you.
God’s love toward you.
God’s love weaving stories so no one has to sit in the dark alone.

I used to think I needed to “heal first” before I had anything to offer.
But that was a BIG FAT lie — a straight-up lie from the enemy.

The truth is this:
Love doesn’t stop, get bruised, or pause for you to be healed in order to flow through you.
God doesn’t wait for your story to be tidy and neat before He uses it.
And grief doesn’t disqualify you from being someone who brings light into the world.

In fact… your grief might make you more tender, more aware, more present than you ever were before.

You don’t have to feel whole to offer love.
You just have to be willing.

And even that willingness?
He gives that too.

The Sacred Work of Bearing Witness

One of the most powerful things I’ve learned in grief is this:

You don’t have to fix someone to love them.
You just have to witness them.

Bearing witness is holy ground.

It’s looking at someone else’s pain without trying to tidy it.
It’s listening without offering answers.
It’s saying, with your presence, “I see you. You’re not alone in this moment.”

And something surprising happens when you do this — even while you’re grieving yourself:

You remember that your heart still works.
You remember that God is still moving.
You remember that tenderness still lives inside you, even on the days you feel numb.

Bearing witness isn’t about giving out what you don’t have.
It’s about letting your story sit beside someone else’s story and trusting that God will do the weaving.

Because grief convinces us that we’re useless.
That we’re too broken to show up for anyone else.
That our pain disqualifies us from offering comfort.

But the truth?

Grief has trained your heart to recognize suffering.
You see it differently now.
More clearly.
More honestly.
More compassionately.

Your presence carries weight — not because you’ve healed, but because you understand.

And when two hurting hearts sit side by side, Jesus sits with them.
Not to erase the grief, but to breathe life into the space between.

That’s bearing witness.
And it is both a gift to others and a healing balm for you.

5 Practical Ways to Enter Someone Else’s Story Without Overwhelming Yourself

These are gentle, grief-friendly ways to show up without abandoning your own emotional limits.

These are the steps I lived.
The ones that kept me soft when life seemed determined to harden everything.

1. Offer Presence, Not Solutions
   You don’t need answers.
   You don’t need wisdom.
   You don’t need to say the right thing.
   Just offer a moment of presence.
   “I’m here. You don’t have to walk this alone.”
   Presence heals what explanations never will.

2. Let Your Listening Be Slow and Unrushed
   When someone shares their pain, don’t sprint to the ending.
   Sit with them in the middle.
   Slow listening says, “Your story matters. You don’t need to be faster for me.”

3. Share Only From Your Scars, Not Your Open Wounds
   You don’t have to match their pain with your own.
   But a gentle “I understand some of this” offers solidarity instead of comparison.

4. Keep It Small, Simple, and Honest
   Showing up doesn’t have to be big.
   A voice memo.
   A five-minute conversation.
   A text that asks for nothing in return.
   Small acts carry big presence.

5. Let Jesus Fill the Space You Don’t Have Words For
   Whisper, “Jesus, be here.”
   He fills what you cannot.
   He holds what neither of you can carry alone.

Here’s the beauty widows rarely hear:

Showing up for someone else in small, honest, grief-soft ways doesn’t empty you…

It grounds you.
It connects you.
It reminds you that your life still holds purpose.
That your love is still needed.
That God is still moving through your tired, hurting heart.

You are not useless.
You are not too broken.
You still carry something sacred to give — even now.
Especially now.

If You Want to Step Into Another Story With Me

One of the things that surprised me most in grief was how healing it was to enter into stories far beyond my own — especially the stories of widows in Kenya and Tanzania who carry both unimaginable weight and remarkable strength.

Their lives, their resilience, their faith… it changed something in me.
It opened my world back up when grief had made everything so small and tight.

If you’ve ever felt the nudge to step into someone else’s story — gently, slowly, in a way that brings life to both of you — I want you to know there’s room for you inside the work we do with Pamoja Love.

Through our Widow Project, we come alongside widows who are navigating heartbreak, cultural pressure, spiritual resilience, and the daily struggle to keep their families fed and safe.
And every time we stand with them, something holy happens:

Their story touches ours.
Our story touches theirs.
And God moves in the middle.

It’s not charity.
It’s not “helping the needy.”
It’s story joining — grief with grief, strength with strength, hope with hope.

If your heart is longing for a way to feel connected again…
If you want to witness courage that awakens something inside you…
If you want to know that your story still has something sacred to give…

You’re invited to join us.

Whether it’s praying for a widow by name, helping provide food for her children, supporting leadership training, or simply learning more about her world — you are stepping into a place where love, empathy, and healing move both directions.

And maybe… just maybe…
God will use their story to breathe a little life into yours, the same way He did for me.

If you want to learn more, you can visit: Pamoja Love Nonprofit
www.pamoja.love
and explore the Widow Project.

There is room for you here too.
Your grief.
Your tenderness.
Your story.
All welcome.

Ideas for when grief makes your world feel small.

This post explores grief, widowhood, empathy, nervous system healing, Christian faith, and the emotional and physiological impact of bearing witness to someone else’s story. It includes grief science, widow support, oxytocin and cortisol explanation, faith-based grief encouragement, and practical tools for healing. For widows searching for understanding, Christian grief resources, grief community, nervous system support in grief, or how to navigate sorrow with Jesus, this article provides compassionate guidance, trauma-informed wisdom, and spiritual grounding.

Widow Life: The Distance Found in the Holiday Mist of Cheer.

For the widow who feels flat, forgotten, or unsure if she still belongs.

If you’re reading this, I want you to know something from the start—you’re not ALONE.

There is a distance that can settle in this time of year. You can feel it before you can give it words—somewhere between the first Christmas commercial and the neighbor hanging lights. The whole world shifts into a season of wonder and expectation, and somehow, it creates a widening gap between you and everyone else.

The holidays permeate everything with “magic” and “joy.”

And grief—your grief—seems to move in the opposite direction. Holiday grief hits in ways you can’t prepare for. Christmas grief has its own weight, its own sting, its own silence.

It leaves you feeling isolated. Detached. And if you’re anything like me… sometimes flat.

Not bubbling over with emotion. Not tender and sentimental. Just… less. Less feeling, not more. Less capacity, not more. Less sparkle, less warmth, less of whatever you think you “should” be bringing to this season.

In a world shouting MORE—more family, more events, more decorating, more expectations, more giving, more love on display—you become painfully aware that you have MUCH less to offer. And it makes you start to wonder if you’re even wanted as you currently are.

And if any of this is describing you, breathe. You are not the only widow feeling this way during the holidays. This season awakens a specific kind of ache that deserves to be named, understood, and honored—not hidden.

Because here’s the truth many widows silently carry: for the first time, you wonder if you even belong in your own family anymore. Nothing fits the way it used to. Nothing feels familiar. Part of you is missing, and the part of you that balanced the whole room isn’t there anymore.

Grief has a way of making you feel like you’ve slipped outside the frame of your own life. You watch everyone else move forward while you’re learning how to live with a permanent tear in the fabric of your world. And I know how lonely that place can feel.

So let me say some of the things you may not have words for yet—things widows often feel but rarely speak.

Five Real Thoughts Widows Carry About Not Fitting Anymore

Being a widow brings a lot of thoughts and feelings with it. Navigating the truth and the holidays is possible.

1. “I feel like the heavy one now.”
   Like your presence shifts the room and everyone can feel the ache you try so hard to tuck away.

2. “I worry I suck the joy out of everything.”
   You don’t want to. You don’t mean to. But you see the energy change and you blame yourself.

3. “I’m not the same without him… and I don’t know who I am now.”
   He was your balance, your grounding, your mirror. Without him, everything feels off-center.

4. “I don’t feel like I fit in my own family anymore.”
   Not because they’ve rejected you—but because the dynamic changed when half of you went missing.

5. “I feel too much and not enough at the exact same time.”
   Too emotional. Too quiet. Too exhausted. Not joyful enough. Not okay enough. Just… wrong somehow.

If any of that sounds like you, friend… I see you. Truly.

And here is what I need you to hear with your whole heart: none of these thoughts make you weak. None of these feelings make you a burden. They make you human. They make you real. They make you a woman who loved deeply and lost profoundly.

But hear me: that tear in your life doesn’t disqualify you from love.
It doesn’t exile you from your future story.
It doesn’t erase your place at the table.

You’re still here.
And your presence still carries weight—sacred weight the world doesn’t always understand.

Because the way you hold love and loss at the same time?
That is holy ground.

You may feel on the outside looking in, unsure where you fit or how to step into spaces you once entered so naturally. But you are not lost. You are not forgotten. You are not too broken to belong.

You don’t have to perform your way back into the room.
You don’t have to decorate the ache.
You don’t have to twist yourself into something lighter or easier.

Honesty is enough.
Your presence—even tired, quiet, or undone—is enough.

You belong. You are still breathing, still loving, still showing up inside a life you never asked for. That is not weakness. That is sacred strength.

And even if this season feels fractured and unfamiliar, there is still room for you—your truth, your sorrow, your tenderness, your whole story—right here, right now.

Just as you are. Always.

Five Ideas for Navigating the Holidays When You’re Grieving

If you’re looking for ways to move through the next few weeks with honesty, meaning, and supportive connection, here are five quiet and doable ideas. They don’t require you to pretend or perform. They don’t require energy you don’t have. They’re simply small invitations toward real and raw comfort and safety.

1. Choose one friend from your Circle of Support and ask for a moment for real talk.
   Maybe just one true sentence: “This is how I’m doing / feeling today.” Ask if they’d sit with you for a moment this week. No fixing. No pressure. Just presence. Sometimes being witnessed is the deepest relief.

2. Create a small, meaningful ritual at home—just for you.
   Light a candle. Say his name. Whisper a memory. Invite Jesus into the quiet. Even two minutes of time like this can soften the deep ache enough to release some grief tension and keep you going.

3. Give yourself an “opt-in” holiday moment.
   Skip the big gatherings if you need to. Choose something small—a drive to see lights, a warm drink with someone safe, a slow walk. Give yourself permission to leave early or change your mind if your heart shifts.

4. Release your mental load onto paper.
   Your brain is carrying silent weight. Write down every worry, fear, and trigger. This helps both sides of your brain to work together and process more fully. Let it become your prayer: “Jesus, be here with me.” - maybe you want to hold it with care in your journal or maybe you want to toss it in the fire and release it.

5. Create meaning, not performance.
   You don’t need a whole tree or a whole house decorated. Choose one grounding thing: a single ornament that represents something meaningful, a Scripture, a song, a cup of hot chocolate. Meaning does not require intensity. Sometimes sitting in softness is the bravest choice you can make.

Know this, I am praying for you. Wherever you are, whatever you are feeling: hope-filled, weary, nervous, numb… begin by recognizing it. Allow it to be recognized and respected. Grief is hard. Carrying love and loss is hard. Take small steps of bravery to allow your natural process. I know God is with you in this chapter and the ones yet to come. He is writing something beautiful now, and in the days ahead.

Sending you so much love,

Kimber

If you’re navigating grief during the holidays, especially as a widow or someone who has lost a spouse, you’re not alone. Many women experience a deep sense of loneliness, disorientation, and not belonging during Christmas and the winter season. This post offers honest support for holiday grief, Christmas sadness, widowhood, and the quiet ache that shows up when family gatherings and traditions look different after loss. If you’re looking for help with feeling out of place, grieving at Christmas, missing your person, or finding gentle ways to care for yourself during the holidays, you’ll find guidance, grounding practices, and compassionate encouragement here. These reflections are written for widows, grievers, and anyone carrying loss into December—offering language, validation, and hope for the season you’re in.

The Widow’s Holiday Cry — What She Wishes Everyone Understood

Raw truths widows need to know to get through Christmas.

“I’m trying. I really am. But Christmas hits places inside me I can’t explain. My whole body feels the absence — the silence at the table, the vacant chair, the empty side of the bed, the traditions that now feel like a wound. I want people to know I’m not being dramatic. I’m not avoiding joy. I’m just trying to survive something my heart, my mind, and my nervous system never learned how to carry.”

Christmas after loss is heavy.
Not just emotionally — but in your mind, your nervous system, your routines, and your body.

If this is your first Christmas without your person… or your tenth… the holidays have a way of pressing into the bruise. The world moves into celebration; widows often move into survival mode.

This isn’t weakness.
It’s grief.
It’s love.
It’s biology.
It’s the story you’re carrying.

And there are real truths that can help you get through this season with tenderness, capacity, and compassion for your whole self.

Before we get to those truths, here’s the part widows almost never say — but deeply wish others understood.

What Widows Wish Everyone Understood at Christmas — But Rarely Say Out Loud

“I won’t tell you this because I don’t want to ruin your holidays… but I am barely holding myself together.”

“The decorations, the music, the gatherings — they all carry landmines. I never know which one will break me open.”

“I wish I could explain how exhausting it is to look ‘fine’ when inside, I’m either numb or on the edge.”

“I don’t want pity. I don’t need you to fix anything. I just want to be seen without being pushed.”

“If I’m quieter, it’s not because I don’t care. It’s because my nervous system is overloaded.”

“I’m terrified of being ‘too much’ — too emotional, too fragile, too complicated. So I stay silent.”

“It takes courage to show up to anything this month.”

“I want to be invited, even if I can’t say yes. And I want my no, or avoidance to be okay.”

“I still talk to him in my head. I still imagine what he would say. December brings all of that closer.”

“I’m not choosing sadness over joy — I’m choosing honesty over avoiding”

“Your love helps… but nothing fills the space where he should be.”

“Most days, I’m surviving something invisible — but nearly unbearable. It touches everything.”

“I just need someone who lets me be real. Someone who doesn’t rush me. Someone who understands that this isn’t just a season… it’s a whole-body ache I’m learning to live with.”

These are the truths widows live in — silently, bravely — during the holidays.

And here are the truths you need to know to get through them.

9 Truths Widows Need to Know to Get Through Christmas

1. You’re not “doing the holidays wrong.” Your brain is grieving.

Holiday grief isn’t just emotional — it’s neurological.
Widowhood rewires your threat system, your memory pathways, and your emotional regulation. The sights, smells, and sounds of Christmas can activate the deepest parts of loss.

There is nothing wrong with you.
Your brain is trying to protect you.

2. Overwhelm is your body asking for safety.

That tight chest, the sudden exhaustion, the dizziness in crowded rooms…
This is somatic grief.

Your nervous system is overloaded, not broken.

Small grounding moments help:

• slower, extended exhale

• step outside

• hand on your heart

• unclench your jaw

Your body needs presence, not pressure.

3. You’re allowed to make Christmas smaller this year.

Widowhood changes capacity.

You can choose:

• simple traditions

• quiet mornings

• new plans

• rest over pressure

• “not this year”

Your worth is not measured by how well you perform holiday joy.

4. Loneliness during the holidays is not failure.

Holiday loneliness for widows is not about being alone.
It’s about missing the one person who was your witness, your safe place, your home.

Feeling that ache is not weakness — it’s love with nowhere to land.

5. December uses more emotional energy than any other month.

Widows carry:

• increased cortisol

• impaired sleep

• grief-triggered memories

• decreased capacity for decision-making

• social burnout

Lower your expectations.
Give yourself margin.
Rest is not avoidance — it’s survival.

6. You need a circle of support — even if it feels vulnerable.

Widows hesitate to ask for help.
But connection literally reduces grief’s load on your nervous system.

Ask for:

• someone to sit with you

• someone to check in

• someone to pray

• someone to help with tasks

You’re not meant to carry December alone.

7. Your body remembers anniversaries before your mind does.

If your spouse died in winter, or if the holidays were complicated, your body holds that timeline.

That heaviness you feel early in December?
It’s memory stored in your nervous system.

8. Honoring your person is allowed — and healing.

Pick one meaningful thing:
light a candle, make their favorite food, write their name, tell their story.

This isn’t about moving on.
It’s about continuing love in a new form.

9. You do not have to navigate holiday grief alone.

Most widows feel invisible in December.
That’s why I created the Widows Support Letter — a free, gentle, grief-informed newsletter offering:

• nervous system tools

• somatic practices

• spiritual grounding

• circle of support helps

• grief education

• compassionate guidance

• reminders you’re not walking this alone

It’s support that meets you in the ache — not above it.

If you're facing the holidays without your person, this is your safe place to land.

You don’t need to be strong.
You don’t need to perform.
You don’t need to pretend you’re okay.

You just need to be held — even for a moment — in a world that doesn’t understand how deep this goes.

👉 Sign up for the free Widows Support Letter below:
Real support. Real stories. Real presence. Especially when the holidays are too much.

Christmas is one of the hardest seasons for widows because grief affects the whole body—mind, nervous system, routines, somatic stress patterns, and emotional capacity. Widows often experience holiday triggers, overwhelm, loneliness, sensory overload, and deep nervous system fatigue. This post offers practical support for widows facing Christmas after loss, including somatic grounding tools, emotional regulation strategies, spiritual support, grief education, and ways to create a circle of support. It explains why holiday grief feels heavier, why the body reacts, and what widows truly wish others understood. This article is written for widows looking for real, compassionate guidance and includes an invitation to join a free Widows Support Letter for ongoing grief support. Keywords: widow holiday grief, Christmas without my husband, surviving Christmas as a widow, grief and nervous system, somatic grief support, holiday grief triggers.

Why It’s Hard to Be Friends with a Widow (and How to Stay Anyway)

When my husband died, I expected grief to change me — I didn’t, however, expect it to change the bulk of my friendships too.

Grief reshaped relationships in ways no one prepared me for. In fact, nobody was talking about it. One day I was sharing everyday life with friends; the next, I was standing awkwardly unsure of how to connect at all.

One day we were swapping stories about dinner plans, the kids, and weekend trips. The next, I was sitting across from familiar faces, feeling like I no longer fit inside the same world. I laughed at the right moments, nodded along, but inside something ached. I was the same — and I was definitely not. I felt as if I was betraying myself by pretending.

For me, the world grew quieter, out of sync, and unknown. For my friends, it grew awkward. Both sides ached for connection, but neither knew how to bridge the gap.

The Rift You Don’t See Coming

No one warned me that loss wouldn’t just take my person — it would rearrange absolutely everything and leave me wondering where I belonged now. Where would I not feel alone?

Our worlds no longer matched.

My world had split in two. Theirs hadn’t. It wasn’t their fault, but it left me suspended between who I had been and who I was becoming. I had no idea what it would take to find my way back — or to wherever I was going. And I certainly had no idea who would stay long enough to walk with me while I tried. I knew my process of finding out was going to be messy.

Triggers hid in the ordinary.

Dinner invites, anniversary posts, a casual mention of “we” — everything that once felt normal began to set off alarms inside of me. Grief didn’t announce it was entering; it simply stormed in, loud and uninvited, right in the middle of simple moments and everyday life.

My brain didn’t work the same.

I retold stories, processes, experiences. I forgot what I had said and to whom I’d already said it. Sometimes I held back because I didn’t want to be “too much,” and other times everything just poured out wildly. Either way, I felt exposed, raw and vulnerable. The inside of me was a garbled mess and any words that came out would be sure to reveal that truth.

Silence filled the gap.

Some friends stopped calling or messaging — I don’t believe it had to do with them being uncaring but much more because they didn’t know how to. The fear of saying the wrong thing kept them quiet, yet the silence hurt more than awkward words would have. Because awkward was my new grieving norm anyway.

My capacity changed without warning.

Some days I wanted company. Other days I couldn’t breathe around people. It wasn’t rejection — it was survival. It was my way of trying to process the uneven weight that grief so abrasively dumps on you.

How to Stay Anyway

If you love a widow, it will feel uncomfortable.
You’ll second-guess your words. You’ll worry about saying too much or doing too little.
But staying matters more than getting it right.

Here’s what I’ve learned from both sides of this fragile space:

1. Show up, even when it’s awkward.

Don’t wait for the perfect words or timing — they don’t exist. Presence is the healing language of grief. Send the text. Sit in the silence. Drop off the coffee even if she doesn’t open the door.

2. Say what’s real.

“I don’t know what to say, but I’m here.”
That kind of honesty builds trust faster than any forced encouragement ever could.

3. Let the friendship change.

It won’t look like it used to — and that’s okay. Grief isn’t going anywhere.
This version will be quieter, slower, more intentional. That’s how love rebuilds itself after loss.

4. Offer small, steady gestures.

Grief drains decision-making and emotional energy. It makes the body tired. A consistent rhythm of small care says, “You’re still seen.” And consistency shows you plan on sticking around.

5. Learn the language of grief.

Listen more than you speak. Ask what helps, what feels heavy, what she misses most.
Let her story be the teacher.

Posture. Presence. Patience.

Over time, I’ve learned these three are what every grieving heart — and every lasting friendship — needs.

Posture: Come as a learner. Listen before you speak. Ask thoughtful questions. Let empathy lead. Hold fewer opinions, give less advice, and make more room for her story.

Presence: Be near. Stay steady when she withdraws, cries, or changes the subject. Your quiet consistency will mean more than you realize.

Patience: Grief takes time to find it’s way, and it’s not linear. Let her move at her own pace. There’s no “before” to return to — only a new kind of life to walk together.

These three — posture, presence, patience — rebuild safety in a world that feels unsafe. They whisper, You’re not too much. I’m not going anywhere.

For the Ones Who Want to Stay

If you’re walking through loss — or walking beside someone who is — I created something for you.
It isn’t a checklist or a script. It’s a way to stay close when things feel uneasy.

Staying Close: What to Say + How to Show Up

A free, practical resource that gives language to the widow and tools to her circle of support —helping both sides find their way to stay connected.

Because the truth is, friendship after loss isn’t ever about saying the right thing.
It’s about standing close enough to feel and engage with what really matters.

Enter your email below to have this helpful information sent to your inbox.

Where Love Still Lives | A Modern Lament of Loss + Remembering

Where Love Still Lives

A Modern Lament

Before You Read

I want you to lean in and listen to this…

Love does not die when we lose our person. And in ways our person doesn’t either.
I know that may sound a bit strange, but let’s think about it for a minute. We do indeed stop physically living beside the person we love, but in our mind and hearts we keep living with them — through memory, story, laughter, faith, and the everyday ways their love still lingers in who we are and the memories that have shaped us.

When I first started writing again, I wasn’t trying to create something beautiful. I was trying to release, process, leak out my emotions…. survive basically.

There were feelings that words couldn’t hold and silence that felt unbearable. Writing became a way to speak when my heart didn’t have language yet — to honor what was, to name what still was, and to remember that love hadn’t gone anywhere.

And even now, as I write this, six years later… I am still finding a beautiful release in the writing of raw words — today it was the unfolding of my modern lament.

It’s honest. It’s messy. It’s love and loss braided together.
And I share it with you because maybe you’ve felt that too — the strange ache of loving someone who isn’t here, yet still is. Here we go:

Where Love Still Lives

My modern lament of loss + remembering.

One minute we were laughing,
planning out our days.
And then suddenly we were sitting behind a curtain —
so many questions,
so many tests.

It was the beginning of pain I’d never known before.
 Pain that reached down deep and rearranged everything.

Fourteen months.
They flew by and dragged on all at once.
 Hope. Fear. Love. Torment. 
All tangled up together,
twisting through the same days.

The deepest kind of love I’ve ever felt —
the kind that digs into your soul,
planting memories you don’t want to forget,
even as you’re watching the leaves of your family tree start to wither.

I wanted to hold on tight —
to every moment, every breath, every look.
Because I knew the end of us was coming.
And the knowing stole my air.

There were days I had to run outside,
just to see the world going on,
but at the same time everything in me wanted it to stop.
Because I knew the faster it moved the sooner we would end.

I would try to imagine myself walking without you —
living on without you
 but I couldn’t. The thought of it made my body shut down.


Sometimes I’d start gasping for air,
other times dry heaving —
that’s the ugly, beautiful truth of love that hurts.
It takes your breath even when you’re trying to hold it.

And yet, here I am today.
Still breathing.
Still holding you — maybe tighter than ever.
You’re here, just differently now.
Not beside me,
but within me. You live in my heart and in my mind,
woven into the threads of my being.

People say time heals,
but I don’t believe that.
Time doesn’t erase love —
Neither does death —
it just changes its form.
The ache stays,
but so does the gift of you.
The way you loved.
The way you gave.
The way you taught me what it means to stay.

I still see you.
I see you in the way our children love others,
serve others,
show kindness and generosity.
You taught them that.

I still hear you —
in their laughter,
their morals,
their love for Jesus.
I remember how you looked right at them —
steady eyes, a firm resolve —
and you asked,
“Do actions speak louder than words?”

They answered,
and you smiled.
You said,
“That’s right… love well.”

And that’s what we’re here still trying to do.
To love well.
To live like you did —
with faith,
with courage,
with kindness.

Your life mattered.
And your love carries on.
We hold it dear.
In the same space as the ache of missing you.
Love still lives here.
Right here.
Inside all that remains.

Why This Matters

I think we forget sometimes that grief is love — still living, still reaching, still remembering.
Writing a lament like this doesn’t make the pain go away, but it gives it somewhere to rest — to be valued, and recognized.
It allows us to see that even in the cracks of heartbreak, love keeps growing.

If you’ve lost someone you love, try writing your own Modern Lament.
It doesn’t have to sound poetic or polished — it just needs to sound like you.
It’s a sacred way to tell your story of loss, to remember what you are still carrying, and to let God meet you in the ache.

You can start with a few simple questions:

• What did I go through?

• Where do I still feel their presence in my life today?

• What did they give me that I still carry?

• What do I want to remember about the love we shared?

Write it for you.
Not to move on, but to move with.
Because love doesn’t end when life does — it carries on, with us.
And sometimes, naming that love is how we keep breathing.

Write Your Own Modern Lament

A Guided Reflection for the Ones Still Learning to Live with the Love That Remains

If something in you stirred while reading this — that ache, that knowing — maybe it’s time to put words to your own story.
To honor your journey and let your heart speak what it’s been carrying.
This is how we begin to live with love in a new way — not gone, but woven in.

I’ve created a gentle guide to help you start.
Inside, you’ll find prompts and simple steps to help you hold what still hurts while remembering what still matters.

→ Get the free guide: Write Your Own Modern Lament
(It will arrive in your inbox with other valuable information about walking with grief.)

Because love still lives here — even in the midst of the ache.
And sometimes the most sacred thing we can do
is let it speak.

Widow, Grief & Brain Fog: How Deep Rest Activates Your Brain’s Cleaning Crew

When Rest Feels impossible

There’s a kind of exhaustion that grief brings.

The kind that doesn’t seem to lift with a nap or the evenings of attempted sleep.

It sits behind your eyes, in your chest, in the middle of your thoughts - heavy, hazy, unrelenting.

If you’ve lost your person, you know this kind of tired. It’s not just sadness. It’s bone-deep survival.

Even when your body is still, your brain is working overtime - trying to make sense of loss, trying to keep you safe.

And when that happens, your brain’s healing rhythm—the glymphatic system—has a hard time doing its job.

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The Brain’s Cleaning Crew: What the Glymphatic System Does

While you get good quality sleep, your brain runs a built-in detox system called the glymphatic system.

Think of it as your brain’s night-shift janitor.

During deep, slow-wave sleep, your brain floods with cerebrospinal fluid, which washes away toxins, stress chemicals, and waste proteins from the day.

This process clears what you’ve felt, processed, and held—all the invisible buildup of living, thinking, and surviving.

When this system flows well, you wake clearer, lighter, steadier.

But when sleep is disrupted—as it so often is in grief—the glymphatic “cleaning crew” can’t clock in. The result is what many widows describe as grief fog: forgetfulness, emotional swings, irritability, and a feeling that your brain just can’t keep up.

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Why Grief Interrupts Deep Sleep

Grief activates your stress response system—the part of your brain wired to protect you from danger.

Your body releases cortisol, your heart rate rises, and your brain stays on alert, even when you want rest.

It’s common to fall asleep from sheer exhaustion and wake again in the dark hours with your mind racing.

The very rest you need most becomes the hardest to find.

Without those deep, slow-wave cycles, your glymphatic system can’t finish its nightly cleanup—and your brain starts carrying yesterday’s emotional and physical waste into today.

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Signs Your Brain’s Cleaning System Is Overloaded

• Foggy or sluggish thinking

• Forgetting what you were about to do

• Emotional swings that come out of nowhere

• Physical heaviness or pressure behind your eyes

• Difficulty concentrating or praying

• Feeling “off” but not sure why

Of course, losing your spouse brings many of these issues.

Your brain is burdened with double-duty, empty spaces, new tasks, etc. — and this all brings a state of overwhelm and spinning thoughts. But also, understanding that there is a physical detox process your sleep can offer you each night to help with these things can bring a real sense of hope.

Let’s talk about some tangible ways to help find deeper sleep in the midst of your grief…

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How to Support Deep Rest (and Help Your Brain HeaL

You can’t force sleep—but you can help to create the space where rest becomes possible again.

1. Create calm before bed.

Turn off screens an hour before sleep. Blue light signals your brain that it’s still daytime and suppresses melatonin. Choose quiet light, soft music, or a gentle prayer rhythm instead.

2. Hydrate often.

Your glymphatic system depends on fluid to flow. Keep a glass of water nearby throughout the day and sip before bed.

3. Try the “widow’s brain dump.”

Write down what’s looping in your mind—memories, to-dos, what-ifs, fears. You’re telling your brain: You don’t have to hold it all tonight.

4. Ease physical tension.

Apply a warm compress or massage your shoulders, neck, or jaw with a drop of lavender or copaiba blended in a carrier oil. These help calm the nervous system and release stored tension.

5. Avoid overstimulation.

Skip caffeine after 2 p.m. and heavy meals or alcohol within two hours of sleep. Both interrupt the deep-sleep cycles where brain cleansing happens.

6. Position for flow.

If comfortable, sleep on your side (especially the left)—studies show this helps cerebrospinal fluid drain more efficiently through the brain’s channels.

These practices can really help to ground your body and open it up to better sleep.

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Natural Tools That Help the Body Remember Rest

Essential oils are a natural option that can help create the calm conditions your body and mind depend on: deep breathing, slower heart rate, and relaxed muscles.

To Release Tension

• Lavender – eases muscle tightness and lowers stress hormones.

• Copaiba – supports calm through the body’s endocannabinoid system.

• Frankincense – deepens breathing and grounds emotional overwhelm.

To Promote Deep Rest

• Cedarwood – encourages melatonin release and stability.

• Roman Chamomile – quiets restless thoughts.

• Vetiver – deeply grounding; helps your body drop into restorative sleep.

How to use:

Diffuse 3–5 drops of lavender, cedarwood, or chamomile 30 minutes before bed, or add a few drops to an evening bath with Epsom salt.

For topical use, dilute 2 drops of any combination in a teaspoon of carrier oil and apply to neck, shoulders, or over the heart.

For my very favorite set and diffuser, you can grab it here: Essential oil kit + diffuser

If you would like to learn more about how essential oils work with emotions, click here

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Things to Avoid (and Why They Matter)

• Caffeine after 2 p.m. — Blocks adenosine, delaying sleep onset for up to 10 hours.

• Blue-light screens — Suppress melatonin and keep your brain alert.

• Alcohol close to bed — Fragments sleep and prevents deep, restorative cycles.

• Late-night sugar or heavy meals — Keep your body metabolically active when it needs to be still.

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Circle of Support TIPS: Helping a Widow FIND Rest

If you love someone who’s grieving, you can’t fix her sleepless nights—but you can help to make rest more possible.

• Lighten her load. Do one small thing she doesn’t have energy for—laundry, groceries, or a meal.

• Create a “rest basket.” Add herbal tea, a journal, magnesium lotion, a soft blanket, and a note: “Please care for your heart, mind and body by allowing yourself time to rest.”

• Check in with curiosity, not pressure. Ask, “What’s been spinning in your thoughts?” or “What’s weighing heavier tonight?” Allowing space for your friend to release some of the mental tension she is experiencing.

• Be still with her. Quiet companionship lowers stress hormones and helps her body feel safe enough to rest.

• Pray peace. Short, simple prayers like “God, hold her mind steady while You keep watch” can calm both body and spirit.

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A Gentle Reminder for the Weary

If your mind feels overhwelmed and your emotions keep spinning, it doesn’t mean you’re failing.

It means your brain has been working without rest, doing its best to carry what feels un-carryable.

Your body is wise.

Your brain knows how to restore you when given space and kindness.

Even here, my body is still working to protect me.

Even here, my brain remembers how to restore me.

Even here, I am being held.

What Not to Say to a Widow (and What to Say Instead)

The worst thing you can say to a widow is a phrase that minimizes her pain, compares her grief, or tries to fix what can’t be fixed. The best thing you can do is offer presence, honesty, and compassion.

When I was newly widowed, I heard words that stung more than silence. People meant well, but their attempts left me feeling more abandoned. This guide is for anyone who wants to love widows well — to bring comfort instead of clichés.

What Not to Say to a Widow

Here are some common phrases widows hear that wound instead of help:

• “At least he’s in a better place.”

• “Everything happens for a reason.”

• “You’ll find someone else.”

• “God won’t give you more than you can handle.”

• “I know exactly how you feel.”

• “You should be moving on by now.”
  

Why These Words Hurt

• They minimize the depth of loss.

• They add guilt or shame when grief doesn’t fit a timeline.

• They shift focus to fixing instead of being present.

• They ignore the uniqueness of every widow’s story.
  

Grief is not a problem to solve — it’s a story to honor.

What to Say Instead

Here are phrases that bring comfort without pressure:

• “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine the weight you’re carrying.”

• “Your love story mattered — and still matters.”

• “I don’t have words, but I’m here with you.”

• “Can I sit with you?”

• “What feels hardest today?”

• “Would you like to share a memory?”

Presence-filled words go further than advice ever could.

Gentle Practices for Speaking to a Widow

• Pause before you speak. Ask: Will this bring comfort or create distance?

• Offer more presence than words. Silence can be holy.

• Listen without fixing. A widow’s story matters more than your answer.

• Remember important dates. A note or call on anniversaries means everything.

If you’re here because you want to love a widow well, thank you. Your presence matters more. When you choose compassion over clichés, you remind her she’s not abandoned in the hardest season of her life.

Common Questions

“Q: What is the worst thing to say to a widow?
A: Phrases like “At least he’s in a better place” or “You’ll move on soon” often feel minimizing or dismissive.

Q: What words bring comfort to a widow?
A: Honest, compassionate words like “I’m so sorry” or “I’m here with you”.

Q: How can I support a widow without saying the wrong thing?
A: Focus on presence, avoid clichés, and acknowledge their loss directly.
”

Grief isn't an emotion, it's a lived experience.

Grief isn’t just something you feel.

It’s something you live.

It doesn’t pass through or pass by over time. It settles in your chest, changes your pace, reshapes your thoughts, and carves its way into your everyday choices. Grief becomes part of how you breathe. How you think. How you carry love forward into a world that no longer looks like it once did.

It is not a moment or a stage.
It’s a recalibration - of what feels like, absolutely everything.

And the truth is, it matters.

Grief has VALUE

Grief matters because love matters.

Grief is not a sign that something went wrong. It’s a sign that something beautiful existed - something irreplaceable, something sacred.

It’s the shadow love casts when the person is gone, but the heartprint and wired in memories remain.

And that’s where things get confusing.
Because the relationship doesn’t stop.
The love doesn’t go away.
The memories don’t leave, even when the person does.

That’s the tension.
The friction of holding what’s still current in your soul… but not physcially true in your presence.

You still hear their voice.
You wait for their sound.

You remember the feeling of them right there beside you.
You brain has them wired into every moment of your future plans - and you have to wiggle through every single one of those as they come, working through them with your new reality.

It’s what I call a, holy ache: the presence of what was, still alive inside the absence of what is.

The Cost of Calling Grief “Just” an Emotion

Too often, the world will treat grief like a feeling.
Something that will pass. Something to be managed.
Something people expect you to "get over.", “get past”, “work through”, “come to terms with”.

But grief is not that simple.

When we minimize it to an emotion, we rush people through it.
We silence their voices with platitudes.

We dismiss their pain with timelines.
We shame them for the impact of loss that still remains or lingers.

But the truth is, grief doesn’t just touch the heart - it touches the brain. The body. The mind. The soul.

It disrupts thought patterns and memories. It changes your physical rhythms - your appetite, your sleep, your immune system. It alters how safe or unsafe the world feels. It reroutes every automatic thing you once knew.

This is not weakness. In fact, it takes tremendous strength.
It’s the cost of re-learning an entirely new life after loss.

This Is What Grief Looks Like

You have to reimagine every part of your day.
The person who once helped you decide things, calm your fears, make you laugh - they’re not here. And now it’s all up to you.

That’s not just painful.
That’s exhausting.

This is grief:
Trying to remember passwords.

Forgetting what day it is.
Staring into space.
Crying in the car.
Making a simple decision and feeling shattered by it.

Not because you’re broken.
But because your mind, body, and soul are doing the hard work of loving still, even in the absence. And that takes a strength that no one can see, or understand, unless they have sat in it.

And Yet, We Keep Going

Somehow, we show up.
Not always polished.
Not always okay.
But honest. Present. Carrying more than most people know.

We find ways to have grace for those who miss the mark on what this journey is about. Or what it should look like.

And slowly - over time - we realize something:

This grief has changed us. We have learned much in the process of it.

We have done extremely hard work carrying this love with us.

And we always will …

For the rest of our days we will carry the memories, the aches, and the gratitude.

You’re Not Meant to Carry This Alone

If you’re in this place - where your grief feels misunderstood - I want you to know something:

You're not alone.
And grief is not too much.

You’re not stuck.

You’re grieving.
And that’s holy.
It deserves time, tenderness, and space to be understood - not silenced.

As a grief coach and spiritual director, I walk with women navigating this ache - helping them find gentle ground beneath their feet again. Not rushing them. Not fixing them. But listening deeply and helping them carry this with honesty, presence, and dignity.

Grief and faith can walk together.
Tears and hope can live in the same body.
And even now - especially now - you are worth walking with.

A Gentle Invitation

If you're walking through deep loss and want someone beside you who understands both the neuroscience and the spiritual ache of grief, I’d be honored to walk with you.

You don’t have to figure this out alone.

Learn More About Grief Coaching + Spiritual Direction

We’ll move gently.
We’ll listen for what still matters.
And we’ll carry it forward - with kindness.

You can click below to set up a consult if you would like to see about walking together in your grief.

Immunity Building Fire Cider Recipes + Benefits

Grief and stress can wear your immune system down quickly. Fire Cider provides tremendous health benefits to your immune system and it is really easy to make. Below you will find a simple how-to for making the Fire Cider with different options for using it: salad dressings, stir fry sauce, red curry and some delish golden milk.

3 uncommon truths about stored grief.

Grief is more than thoughts, or feelings, it is a full body experience. It impacts our entire bodies. Which means what we do with our grief can make a tremendous difference. Whether we stuff it, store it, reserve it, repress it - or we allow it, feel it, work through it, honor it, finding our unique ways to move it and respect it the way it deserves.

Recently I heard that the loss of a love is like a rock. We can stick it in our pocket, we can hold it up to view it, we can stick it in a bag we are carrying, we can hold it to our heart… but we are carrying it from now until forever. HOW we carry it can change, where we carry it can change, how we and when we choose to. look at it may change. But the weight and size of it won’t diminish. But, in carrying that rock, we will develop new techniques, muscles, and balance. We will learn, we will adapt.

One of the best parts of walking through grief with someone is finding the beautifully bittersweet ways of allowing, honoring and working through the hard spaces of adjusting to this added weight of grief. This is where we find hope.

Hope is not sticking a bandaid of words or ideas over pain, it is in hearing, feeling, sharing, and processing stories, memories, and current grief impact on our hearts, minds, bodies and relationships. Grief isn’t about letting go but about carrying it with. That idea has some discomfort that comes with because who wants to feel loss forever, and it brings a sense of relief with permission to be vulnerably raw about the truth of what you are feeling today.

I’m rooting for you in the space of this. I’m praying God is meeting you right where you are, showing you it is okay, all the feelings. He is not disappointed, or distant, he is ever-presently in this with you. Just as you are. And maybe the hardest part is feeling that or believing it. But I pray you do. I pray you know that you know, that God has never walked away, or taken his eyes off of you, he has been holding you all along. All you need to do right now is find ways to rest in that truth.

If you would like to book an appointment with me to discover some ways to move through your grief, you can set up a consult appointment here.