When your spouse dies, your life immediately changes. But, like most of us, we long for the life and the only life we know. “This is what I know, this is how we’ve always done it!” But over the days, months, and sometimes even years, that life we knew starts slowly fading to a remembrance, but changes in our day-to-day actions. And for the first time, we must slowly step forward into this new life, a different life from the one we knew.

It’s okay that your life is different. It’s okay to learn something new, to meet someone new, to travel and learn something new, to desire something different, to cook something different, to take a different route, shop at a different store, and see the world differently. It’s okay.

Jesus endured being treated or mistreated by his own creation. Tried in an unjust court, he was represented or looked upon by the religious world as a common criminal, enemy of the state, enemy number one. But this was all part of God’s plan. Jesus died so we could live. He took the sins of the world of all of humanity, past, present, and future, to that shameful, pitiful, agonizing cross, Golgotha, the place of the skull, the weight of death, sin, and darkness, to bring salvation, life, light, love, hope, peace, and purpose. God’s redemptive work cannot be stopped; it was mandated since the foundation of the world by him, the creator, giver, and sustainer of life. So our efforts to prevent, change, and turn rebuke his purpose fall into his hands, plans, and purpose. The crucifixion was the most painful way to die; the humiliation, the pain, was designed to deter others from committing crimes and crimes against humanity, for it was an eyewitness, for people telling them Go down this road and this will happen to you also. Jesus was whipped, slapped, and mocked; they pulled and plucked his beard, and nailed him to a tree that resembled a cross. Pierced him in his side, demanding he come down and prove himself. But he didn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t because that wasn’t the plan; this was. He died an actual physical death and was placed in a borrowed tomb. Humanity thought they had him, thought we were doing away with him, felt that we had the final word: Death. Boy, we had no idea. The Bible states that if we had known (that we were playing right into God’s plan, his purpose), we would not have crucified him. At the borrowed tomb, the angels stated it best, “Why look for the living among the dead? He is not here, for he has risen.” Thank you, God, for fulfilling your plan, purpose, and way. 🙏🏾❤️

One of the things that happens in marriage is that your identity becomes intertwined; you both lose a part of who you are, not in a bad or negative way, but in two becoming one. When that person dies, you have to try to rediscover and reconnect with an identity that has been sitting dormant for a long time. You might ask, “Who am I now? What will I do now?” How will my life look now? These questions might be challenging, but asking them, accepting them, and slowly moving through them are significant steps towards your healing journey.

Imagine you entered a shoe store that only sold size 10 shoes. You can buy any brand in any color, from sneakers to casuals to dress shoes, as long as they are size 10. For the person who wears a size 10, “hallelujah, “Yeah, this is my store.” But for all the rest of us, including myself (I wear a size 14), I would be like, wait, what? That doesn’t make sense! What’s going on here? A one-size shoe store would be ludicrous and unprofitable because not everyone wears the same size. Like the size 10 shoe analogy, there is no one-size-fits-all to grief. Everyone’s journey will be different; no two are alike. There is no “right” or “wrong way to grieve. What has worked for me and my loss will not work for everybody. Grief is a personal journey. Our journey will differ based on our relationship with that person, our personality and coping styles, our upbringing, cultural differences, personal beliefs, and the circumstances surrounding the loss.

As you travel this journey, you will experience moments when you wonder if this is normal. Am I really grieving? Should I be done with this stage? It seems that others are further along than I am. During those moments, take a deep breath, give yourself some grace, and remember this is a journey. Everyone’s grief will be different because there is no size 10 shoe.

In October of 2023, I lost my wife of twenty-eight years, Ursula, during a brief hospital stay. And as some of you know, losing a spouse is one of the most painful experiences imaginable. In fact, the Holmes and Rahe Life Stress Inventory (which rates stress levels in life-changing events) states that the death of a spouse is the #1 life-changing event with a stress score of 100.

During this journey, I’ve experienced grief, shock, fear, confusion, lack of sleep, and anger. I also had to painfully accept that the life I knew before her death no longer exists, and now I must prayerfully chart a new path. But in the midst of my pain, at the lowest point of my life, God revealed his purpose (though I wouldn’t have chosen this) and the path I must now walk. This page has been created to share that path. My message for all those who have experienced loss: “Your life is not over, you haven’t been given a death sentence, there’s still life to live, love to give, laughs to share, and people to serve.” “Your purpose still matters.”

Through coaching, speaking, writing, and videos, I desire to share my journey with you so that together we might find life, love, laughter, and the ability to serve others who have lost purpose during their season of loss.

I experienced some funny and interesting things today during my trip. (This is all true) Enjoy! 😁

I struggled to walk from one TSA Pre-Check gate to another. It was as if everyone was running, and I was standing still. Man, I was struggling!

After my trip through the body scanner, I was putting on my belt when I overheard a passenger and some TSA agents discussing what was in his bag: a knife, a hatchet, and a small crowbar! 👀 😱 😶

As I took care of my business in the men’s restroom before boarding, I looked up towards the ceiling and saw red or green lights over each stall. I didn’t know if I was supposed to stop or continue! 😁

The airplane seat I chose was the aisle seat in the plane’s last row. Man, that lavatory duty was something else! 😅🚽

Well, at least my seat belt connected this time without Eddie the Extension assistance! 😁

After asking for hot coffee, I let down the snack tray, only to discover my stomach acted as the tray on which to rest the snack tray! 😁

We sat for about 45 minutes after boarding to get weight restriction clearance. Man, I thought I was going to be asked to get off! 😁

Fear creeps in when God takes us from the familiar to the unfamiliar. The children of Israel were in Egyptian bondage for centuries; this was all that they knew. The taskmaster’s constant pressure to produce bricks without straw placed tremendous toil on their minds, bodies, and souls. God sent Moses to deliver his people. Following the plagues in Egypt, Pharaoh released them so they could go and worship God in the desert. They left the familiarity of bondage behind, only to be confronted with an unfamiliar future ahead. The Red Sea represented their future; in contrast, the pursuit of Pharaoh’s army represented their past. As their past caught up with them, and the thought of having no way out, the idea of dying in the desert started to consume them.

When we leave what’s familiar—family, friends, community, the way of life as we know it—fear will rear its ugly head. The thoughts of what if, I’m not qualified, I’m not good enough, or what others will think can consume us and cause us to look back and desire the past. But to go where we have never been, and to see all that God has for us, we must be willing to step out into the unfamiliar. This step, my friend, takes faith. Are you willing to step out into the unfamiliar to find your familiar?

“We only know you as Daddy!” was the statement echoed by my daughters as we sat talking in the kitchen that day. This was about a year following Ursula’s passing, so initially my response was shock, with a mixed attitude. What do you mean, you know nothing about me, I’ve been here, I’m your daddy? How do you not know? “That’s it, ” one of my daughters replied. “We don’t know anything about you before marrying Momma and being our daddy. As I pondered those statements, the seeds of this truth slowly began to take root over the next few days. Though I had lived under the same roof, sacrificed, provided discipline, and encouraged my children, they did not know me. They knew nothing of my past, my upbringing, parents, relatives, schooling, or even previous relationships; in essence, I had no history before being their daddy. It seems I just showed up one day from somewhere, to do this thing called fatherhood.

Now, in all fairness, a lot of this can be attributed to my parents’ early passing. My dad passed away

As I listened to this song this morning, my thoughts went to you. Through all you’ve been through—the pain, the setbacks, and failures—you still find a reason to smile, 😁 you still find a way to encourage yourself, and when you do, it radiates to those around you who need the same thing: a smile. Thank you for being you; it has made all the difference in so many lives, including mine. 🙏🏾❤️😇 Oh one more thing: “Keep Smiling” 😁