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 Unexpected in Widowhood: Learning to trust.

My mornings are such a mix these days. They range from waking with head pressure, sometimes angst, maybe a song, all the way to out and out enthusiasm. But I am not so far away from the brutal slap of widowed reality + gasp for oxygen mornings, sleepless nights, to forget their sting. They were my unwelcomed morning ritual for, well, far too long to count. I will say they were there long enough, they were consistent enough for me to be able rise and recognize the feeling of freedom without their presence. And today it has brought to me a place of such deep gratefulness.

Today was one of those days. This morning I woke up with words of thanks spouting from my lips. I found myself standing up + speaking out loud from my heart:

“God, I LOVE you. Thank you for that. Thank you for loving me and for helping me to know you. Like really, KNOW you and TRUST you. Thank you for having a plan for my life. A good plan. Thank you for the people you have put around me in my life, to help remind me and to spur me on. Thank you that you are teaching me that I can trust myself .“ SCREECHING HALT…. ummmmm, wait … WHAT did I just claim? And when did that happen?

See, since Dave passed away this sneaky little distrust in myself began to grow. As time continued to separate me from the life I had lived with my husband I found myself questioning more and more of my abilities: my decision-making processes, my feelings, the filters I run info through, my ability to show up. I began to feel this weird weight of scrutiny pressing on me. And I found myself wondering just where did this mental onslaught stem from? Because I was pretty sure a lot of it was in my head.

Through time + much thought, I have come to the conclusion that there were some key voices that spoke into the spaces of my falsely held beliefs.

1- Well-intentioned people questioning my process.

2- The void where his voice once spoke to bring balancing opinions + thoughts.

3- History. All the voices of my past failures magnified by the risk of facing future ones alone.

4- The whispers of the enemy, “You can’t do it.”

The sheer volume of these voices spinning on repeat in my head would hit me at different times throughout the day, although I will say this… I think they were probably on constant replay. I think I was just busy putting every ounce of my subconscious mental energy into drowning them out. However, it took its toll + somewhere between 2-4pm my brain would just want to shut off with my body closely wanting to follow. About that time the nerves would fire up to keep me in motion until bedtime. And throughout the evening and upon rising I would have a spontaneous electrical dance responding to those voices until I stood up to drown them out that following morning. And repeat.

But somehow scattered here and there I found space to sit with Jesus,

even when I didn’t feel like I had a drop of energy to personally show up. My sordid past had already proven His immense love for me + I knew I could trust him to show up even when I couldn’t muster much strength. I just needed a willing heart to try.

And as I started to implement some simple steps with my Being Known time I would find Jesus asking me morning after morning… “I know you don’t trust yourself, but DO YOU TRUST ME?” Yes, Jesus, I do, completely.” And in my journey with him this last year He has shown me SO MUCH about the voices I was tipping my head to, the things that were holding my gaze. It matters much. And with his simple questions + his deep love, my mind has been able to identify some of the faulty wiring + naturally I am beginning to respond out of more of his truth.

In the course of that, I have fallen SO deeply in love with Jesus, right in the thick of my painful process. The very thing that took a swing at me with the intention of taking me out resulted in shifting my position + opening my view to THE ONE who would steady my stance by wrapping his loving arms around me, holding me tightly, looking straight into my eyes, while asking me the question over and over again until I believed it to my very core:

“Kim, do you trust me?”

I do. If ever I trust anything, it is YOU!

My journey is still long. I have much to still discover BUT for today I am so grateful to recognize that although I won’t ever have all the right answers on my own, I do know the ONE who does. And we are tight, like really tight. In fact, he adores me.

This song:

LOVE YOURSELF

by Justin Bieber + modified lyrics by Tanner Townsend, it gets me every single time I listen to it. Close your eyes + wrap the words around your heart and mind.

“For all the times that you feel so alone
And when you don't know where to turn or to go
You think you're too far gone, you've made your last mistake
You think I'm lying test me, kneel down and pray

'Cause Gods got a plan for you
Listen to the spirit there's too many
Different voices, block out all the noises
I'm singing that I know it's true
And if you think you're worthless, I just want to help you know that
You're still good, don't look back

And the Father loves you, and he loves everyone
And I'd invite you to pray through His Son
We get so caught up in our day, we forget to kneel and pray
Yes I know that you are never on your own

If you could see the way He sees your soul
Then maybe you could learn to love yourself
And if you start to hear the still small voice
Then maybe you could go and trust yourself

And if you start to feel that all your hope is lost
Remember Jesus died on Calvary's Cross
He suffered all the pains and hopelessness you'll see
So you can break the chains and start to be free

'Cause Gods got a plan for you
Listen to the spirit there's too many
Different voices, block out all the noises
I'm singing that I know it's true
And if you think you're worthless, I just want to help you know that
You're still good, don't look back

And the Father loves you, and he loves everyone
And I'd invite you to pray through His Son
We get so caught up in our day, we forget to kneel and pray
Yes I know that you are never on your own

If you could see the way He sees your soul
Then maybe you could learn to love yourself
And if you start to hear the still small voice
Then maybe you should go and trust yourself

For all the times that I know, you feel small
Just take His hand, and He will help you stand tall
And if you hold fast to the rod and don't lose sight
Then you can know that it will end up alright

And the Father loves you, and he loves everyone
And I'd invite you to pray through His Son
We get so caught up in our day, we forget to kneel and pray
Yes I know, that you are never on your own

If you could see the way He sees your soul
Then maybe you could learn to love yourself
And if you start to hear the still small voice
Maybe you should learn to love yourself”