November 6, 2026
As a gardener, I’ve learned that every plant has its own ways.
Some seem to have an off year, barely doing anything while everything around them flourishes. Then, just when I’ve lowered my expectations, they come back bigger and more beautiful than before. Others are strong year after year, dependable old friends in the garden. Still others, like our November Roses, bloom when the autumn frosts should have stopped them cold.
And then, there’s always the one that simply dies, leaving a space I wasn’t prepared to see empty.
I’ve learned to look carefully before giving up. A plant that seems beyond hope may still have life in it. A little water, some attention, and time can reveal something I couldn’t see.
During my own journey through grief, I’ve recognized a little of myself in that garden.
Some days I stood strong; other days I had almost nothing to give. Long stretches passed when getting through the day took every bit of energy I had. Whatever might be growing in me was too small to notice.
Six years have given me a different view.
I can look back now and see friendships taking root, faith growing deeper, and courage appearing in places where I once felt only fear. While I was busy trying to survive, life still lived in me.
Friendship has been one of the sweetest surprises.
It’s true that you can’t make old friends. Shared history takes time. There is something precious about a person who remembers an earlier version of you, someone who can begin a story with, “Do you remember when?” and take you right back there.
New friendships have their own treasures. A new friend meets the woman you are today. She learns your stories, shares a few of her own, and gradually becomes part of the life you’re building. Before long, familiar chairs sit at the table, and you look forward to the conversations.
I’ve learned that a great friendship can begin at any time in life. I’m grateful I didn’t miss the ones waiting for me.
Faith has changed my life, too.
My baptism on December 12, 2021 marked something deeply personal in my journey. Listening to the Bible and the eyewitness accounts of those who walked with Jesus has changed the way I see life. As my relationship with Him has grown, I realize He carried me through moments when I knew I couldn’t take another step alone.
Looking back, I recognize His presence throughout my life.
He was there long before I understood how to look for Him. It took me some time to recognize Him, and I am still learning. That relationship has become a source of strength I treasure every day.
What did my journey take?
In the first days, it took food, shelter, and clothing. Water. Sleep. The things I needed to get through another morning.
Then it took patience. Faith. Hope. Courage. Love. Resilience. Vision. Belief in myself.
I didn’t gather all those things at once. Some days, patience was the hardest thing to find. On others, courage meant making a decision I wished someone else could make for me. Learning to believe in myself took practice, especially when I was tired and afraid.
There were tears along the way. So many tears.
There was also adventure. There was fun. Some moments, laughter came easily again, and I was glad I had said yes. Those became part of my story, too.
And of course, one last great love, in growing a new life with my husband, HHH. God saved something very sweet for the autumn of our lives. We are truly blessed.
Through it all, I came home to myself.
The woman who had been there all along.
The me who still has things to learn, places to go, flowers to plant, and stories to tell. The me who will build friendships and cherish love. The me whose life still holds so many possibilities. And, so, so many more pages to write.
I never want to lose that me again.
Now, I’ve written a book.
Widow: A Journey Toward Life will be available on November 11, 2026, in hardback, paperback, and e-book. As publication day approaches, I keep coming back to what I wanted from this project.
To be helpful.
I hope someone finds a familiar feeling in those pages. Perhaps a little comfort, a reason to reach out to a friend, or enough encouragement to consider one small adventure of their own. Maybe a chance to say, “She didn’t” …. and then smile a bit when you find that indeed I did.
I wanted to share what happened to me honestly, including the difficult days and the unexpected good that followed. Both can belong to the same life.
So much has grown out of grief here at Winterpast. Friendship. Faith. Writing. Love.
Grief is awful.
Together, maybe we can make it a little less so.
Please Click on the banner below to pre-order your E-copy.
