Sometimes, your little boat can become overwhelmed by the sea of life. Feeling alone navigating in these waters of uncertainty without a shipmate, captain, and navigator can be overwhelming. The massive waves of doubt, fears, past mistakes, missed opportunities, and lost relationships can crash from every side, causing unrelenting hard aches, pain, and lost hope. Reality Check! ✅ 😇 🙏🏾❤️ We have a navigator: 1 Peter 5:7 says, “Cast all your cares upon him, for he careth for you.” Isaiah 41:10 also states, “Fear not for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous hand.” Isaiah 40:31 says, “But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.” And finally, Romans 8:28 says, “And we know that God causes all things to work together for the good of those who love God, and are called according to his purpose.” So, check your navigation system next time you feel overwhelmed, confused, or discouraged.

The job reality is this: If you get hired, you can be fired regardless of whether you have been employed for 30 days, 30 months, or 30 years.

As I worked in the backyard today, a moment struck me. We were supposed to enjoy everything Ursula had initiated, including the gazebo, patio furniture, the fire pit, BBQ grills, and the projector screen. It was our getaway from the getaway. But now I must navigate the grief of what might have been. 😞😢☹️😭

Disconnecting occurs when there is a loss of power, whether internal or external. Losing something or someone is a disconnection because the power we once possessed has been cut off, causing us to wander in the darkness of fear and uncertainty, not to mention the loss of time, purpose, and hope. When a loss occurs, it can shake us to the core of our well-being; we slowly realize that life as we know it is over and reminds us that we have no control. Disconnections also occur when we leave the familiar and embrace the uncertainty of an unknown journey.

For me, as a widower, you can easily fall into a victim mentality. Why me? Losing Ursula is so unfair. I’m not going to make it. Unlike our spouses, men are not the social butterflies, so deep, emotional connection is lost or is non-existent. A lot of men are trying to navigate this journey of grief all alone because it’s hard to reach out with our emotions. That feeling of fear, doubt, worry, anger, and facing the unknown without help can make us feel we have been given a death sentence of our own following the death of our spouse. That’s a lonely feeling; that’s a lonely road.

Because society is ill-prepared and uncomfortable with grief, many avoid those who are on this path, thinking it is something you should get over quickly. I find the response I’m ok, “I’m making it,” or the classic, “I’m doing well as expected.” my usual response when asked; John, how are you? Most respond, “If you need me, call me!” Sometimes, I’m not sure what I need or even want. But my hope comes from my relationship with God; others and all my fellow brothers that’s on this journey with me.

One year ago today, I lost the love of my life, my best friend, babies momma, and my soulmate. Navigating this journey, this adjustment and the new normal has been challenging; it has hurt like nothing I have ever experienced. Doubt, fear, anger, loneliness, unworthiness, confusion, and the like have sat at my mind’s doorstep. But with God and others, I have learned that grief is a sign of love and that love leads to gratitude. Thank you all for your prayers and support for our family. When asked how I’m doing, I say, “Better than I was twelve months ago.” God bless.

As I ponder the last ten months since losing my LW Ursula, a deep gratitude has blossomed among the grief. Moving forward following a loss is hard. I’ve experienced my share of doubt, fear, anger, loneliness, and other emotions. But recently, gratitude has started to find its way into that mix—gratitude for the thirty-eight years we knew each other, twenty-eight of which included marriage. Gratitude for the three children we were given, gratitude for the intimate moments we shared, and her organizational skills have made this grief journey a little easier. For me, grief and gratitude go hand in hand.

Recently, as I was preparing to pay some monthly bills, the thought of loneliness or being alone struck me. Let me explain.

Ursula handled all the finances. Now, the finances are my responsibility. Ursula constantly communicated What was being paid, how much, and what we had left over. Now, as I click to make a payment, check the accounts, transfer monies, etc., there’s no one to communicate that with; there’s no one to tell. I’m realizing this is my life now because the one you created this life with is no longer here to share it with, to communicate with, and that’s a lonely feeling. Oh, I have my children, but I think most of you get what I’m saying. There’s no one to tell.

Since losing my LW Ursula on October 16, 2023, I have had my moments of grief. I never imagined becoming a widower at age 57. We were supposed to grow old as we rode into the sunset together. It’s been tough, and I know the grieving process is far from over, But through this short journey, I have learned a few things.

First, Grief is not a one-time experience. You don’t take a test, pass, and say, ok, I’ve grieved; I’ve passed; let’s move on!! No, grief comes, goes, then comes back again anyway, at any time.

Second, There’s no cookie-cutter system for grief. No two experiences will be alike. It will be different for everybody. For some, it can come in the middle of the night, others in the middle of traffic, and still others in the middle of a grocery store.

Third, grief does not discriminate. It affects all, regardless of race, beliefs, education, economic position, or birthplace. Our response may differ, but “Everybody in the same boat!”

And finally, Four, grief is a good thing. Wait, huh, what? Yes, It doesn’t feel good during those moments; you don’t say yeah, bring it on, give me more grief, but it’s the journey towards the healing process. Grief allows us to move forward.

Each morning, as I prepare for the day, I look at her empty chair in the bathroom and face three realities:

1. She’s not here.

2. She’s not coming back.

3. And I can’t change that.

After this, I continue to prepare, knowing God is with me and will give me the grace and strength to make it. I also allow myself to grieve, as well as honor and cherish the memories that we shared throughout the years. Tomorrow starts another morning.