Learning To Live Again: How I Found Myself In Widowhood

When you lose your person—your partner, your love, your safe place—it doesn’t just break your heart. It shatters your identity.

For so long, I was “his wife”.

I was part of a unit, a team, a love story that people looked up to. My younger cousin still tells me “La, y’all were marriage goals.”

And then, in one moment, I wasn’t.

I was a widow.

A single mother.

A woman trying to figure out who she was in the silence that followed loss.

At first, I didn’t want to learn to live again.

I wanted to rewind. I wanted to pause. I wanted to stay in the version of life where he still existed.

But grief doesn’t offer that option.

It only gives you one path: forward.

And so, little by little, I began the work of finding myself—not in the life I planned, but in the life I had left.

I Didn’t Know Who I Was Without Him

He had been there through everything—my strength, my safe space, my sounding board.

And suddenly, I had to navigate motherhood, trauma, and healing without him.

I had to make decisions alone.

I had to show up for our kids without backup.

I had to process grief while making sure theirs didn’t swallow them whole.

In the early months, I didn’t recognize myself.

I was tired.

Numb.

Empty.

Going through the motions, holding it together in public, unraveling in private.

But even in that fog, I knew one thing: He wouldn’t want me to stay lost.

He knew who he married. “Superwoman” is what he had the entire hospital staff call me. I just had to remember who I was.

The Small Steps That Brought Me Back To Life

I didn’t have one big moment of clarity. I had a hundred tiny ones.

• The first time I made a decision confidently.

• The first time I laughed without guilt.

• The first time I went out and didn’t feel like a ghost.

• The first time I looked in the mirror and thought, “I’m still here”.

Widowhood didn’t erase me—it revealed me.

It forced me to look at who I really was underneath the titles.

Underneath “wife”.

Underneath “mom”.

Underneath “caregiver”.

It brought me face-to-face with the woman I had forgotten—and gave me a chance to reintroduce myself to her.

If you’re in this space, you don’t have to do it alone. Resources like Modern Loss and Option B are places that helped me feel seen when I couldn’t find the words myself.

Grief Changed Me—But It Didn’t End Me

I’m not the same woman I was before he died.

And I never will be.

But I’m also not broken.

I’m not stuck.

And I’m not just surviving anymore.

I’ve learned how to carry grief and growth at the same time.

I’ve learned that joy doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten him—it means I’m still honoring the life we built by continuing to live mine.

I’ve learned that letting go of the pain doesn’t mean letting go of the love.

To Anyone Trying To Find Themselves Again After Loss

You don’t have to rush it.

You don’t have to force it.

And you don’t have to have it all figured out today.

But you do have permission to keep going.

To rediscover who you are.

To step into joy, healing, softness, and strength —even while carrying heartbreak.

You’re not betraying their memory by living.

You’re honoring it.

Because love like that never truly dies—it just becomes part of who you are as you learn to live again.

Want more encouragement as you rediscover yourself through grief? Subscribe to my newsletter for stories, resources, and reminders that you’re not alone on this journey.

La 💙