I only began to understand the loneliness and challenge of being a widow when my husband died. At first, the meals flood in, the cards and calls are meaningful, but eventually, it all stops. The assumption is that once you are back to work or in worship, you pick up right where you stopped. You look the same, you serve the same but truly nothing is the same.
It took six years after my husband died for me to realize that I couldn’t be the...
