A WidowRISE Reflection
One week ago, on International Widows Day, I quietly hit “publish” on something that has lived in my heart for years: WidowRISE.

It’s not just a website. It’s not just a project. It’s a piece of my story—woven from loss, love, and longing for purpose after devastation.

The response has been beautiful. People have shared, commented, sent love. But if I’m being honest, this past week has brought what Brené Brown so aptly named: a vulnerability hangover.

Putting yourself out there is hard.
Launching something deeply personal is hard.
Doing it as a widow, without the one who would have been your biggest cheerleader? That’s a different kind of ache.

The Truth About Resilience

We talk about resilience like it’s a ribbon you earn after a marathon. But I’ve learned something different:

Resilience isn’t loud.
It’s not always confident.
And it definitely doesn’t mean “easy peasy.”

Resilience is getting back up—on the hard days, the quiet days, the cheering days, the lonely days.
It’s showing up in a world that doesn’t always know what to do with grief or with widows.

What’s Helped Me Keep Rising

Over the past three years of widowhood, I’ve found a few gentle anchors that help me keep rising—not perfectly, but purposefully:

– A Morning Gratitude Prayer: Not to erase grief, but to let gratitude coexist with it. Both can hold space in a single heart.
– Practicing a Smile: Even when I don’t feel like it. Somehow, that small act has helped shift the trajectory of my day.
– Writing and Journaling: Putting words to what’s swirling in my heart has been healing.
– Reaching Out: The feeling of being a burden is so real—but it’s a feeling, not a truth. Letting someone in is strength, not weakness.

A Quiet Invitation

If you’re walking through widowhood, or walking with someone who is—I see you.
WidowRISE was made for you.

Not as a promise to fix anything.
But as a reminder: you’re not invisible.
You’re not alone.
You’re still becoming.