Where my Story began
This is not a story about grief ending. It is a story about learning to carry it — and still set the table.
I was fifty-five when my husband died. I remember thinking, in those first hollow weeks, that I would never feel like myself again. I was right — but not in the way I feared.
The woman who emerged from that year was quieter, more deliberate. She noticed things she had rushed past before. She cried at small kindnesses. She learned, slowly, to be her own company.
The day everything changed. ♥
On August 17th, 2019, our lives changed forever when my husband was struck by a truck while riding his bicycle. The accident left him a quadriplegic with a traumatic brain injury, beginning a journey through hospitals, unimaginable challenges, and unwavering faith. Though the road was often overwhelming, God faithfully carried us through every step, reminding us that even in our darkest moments, He was never far away.
The days we were given.
In January 2020, just before the COVID-19 shutdown, I brought my husband home. For the next few years, we faced each day together with faith, perseverance, and God's unfailing grace. Through every victory and setback, He taught us that true healing isn't always physical—it is found in love that endures, hope that remains, and the faithful presence of God. After two years and two months at home, my husband went to be with the Lord.
More than My Story.
This is not a tidy story or just the story of a tragic accident. It doesn't have a clean ending. It is a testimony of God's faithfulness, the power of love, the strength found in surrender, and the miracles that can be found even in the middle of unimaginable pain. This is my story. More importantly, it is a story of God's unfailing love. I'm sharing it because I think you might recognize yourself in it.
You don't have to walk alone.
Rebuilding is not linear. There were months of progress followed by weeks of falling back. I took long walks. I started writing. I let myself laugh without guilt, and then felt the guilt anyway, and learned to sit with it. If you are walking through a difficult journey, carrying the weight of heartbreaking grief, or simply need hope and encouragement, I invite you to join us at The Widows Table. Together, we can share our stories, strengthen one another, and be reminded that even in our darkest moments, God is Faithful, and no one has to walk this road alone.
"I did not find myself again. I found someone new — someone who had walked through fire and still wanted to cook dinner."
This table is still set.
I started this site because I needed somewhere to put all of it — the grief, the recipes, the hard-won wisdom, the small joys. I wanted to reach the person who is where I was: sitting alone at a table that feels too big, wondering if she will ever feel at home in her own life again.
She will. You will. And until then — pull up a chair. There is always room at this table.