A Year-End Reflection

Honoring How Far You Have Come

The end of the year is always a natural time of reflection for me.

Yes, with the passage of time, it marks another year without Steve. That reality is always there. And yet, it is not where my mind tends to linger. What draws my attention more now is something that once felt impossible to imagine. How far I have come.

I still remember the blur of that first year without him. The fog. The exhaustion. The sense that I was moving through life without solid ground beneath my feet. Decisions felt overwhelming. The future felt uncertain. And while that initial shock softened with time, the heaviness of grief stayed with me for many years after.

This year marks eleven years since Steve died. And I can say with honesty that I am in a very different place.

Not because grief disappeared. It did not.

But because I grew around it.

Today, I feel deep gratitude and pride when I look at my life. Our daughters are now 26, 23 and 20, and watching them move into adulthood has been one of the greatest gifts of my life. They are kind, capable, thoughtful women who continue to teach me more than they realize. There were many moments along the way when I wondered if I was doing enough or doing it right. Looking at them now, I can finally take in how much we have navigated together.

Another source of reflection for me this year is the work I have been called to do. The work of supporting widows and the broader grief community is now five years old. I feel incredibly fortunate to walk alongside people during some of their most difficult moments. It is sacred work. It has shaped me just as much as I hope it has helped others. I never set out to build this path, but grief has a way of revealing purpose when we least expect it.

As this year comes to a close, my hope for you is simple.

I hope you allow yourself a few quiet moments to reflect on how far you have come in your own loss journey.

Not what you still struggle with.

Not what feels unfinished.

But what you have survived.

What you have learned.

What you have carried and continue to carry.

Growth after loss is often subtle. It shows up in ways we do not always recognize. Maybe you asked for help when you once stayed silent. Maybe you set a boundary that protected your energy. Maybe you found yourself laughing again, even briefly. These moments matter.

As we step into a new year, I encourage you to think of resolutions not as demands or pressure, but as gentle intentions. Widow resolutions might look like this:

Giving yourself permission to grieve in your own way, without comparison.

Making space for rest without guilt.

Letting joy exist alongside sadness.

Reaching out for support instead of doing it all alone.

Honoring both who you were and who you are becoming.

There is no right pace. No finish line. No timeline you need to meet.

If this season feels heavy, you are not failing.If this season feels lighter than you expected, you are not betraying your love.

You are simply living.

As this year closes, I hope you can offer yourself compassion and acknowledgment. You are still here. And that, in itself, is something worth honoring.