You Can’t Fill From An Empty Cup

Whether you’re reading this as a recent widow, as one who has been faced with the challenges for years or maybe you’re just curious, my goal would be to help you or someone you know enjoy the path you’re on. If I’m being transparent, this third blog took me a little longer to sit down and write. It could be because I’m not as focused on myself as I should be and it was somewhat convicting to write about something that I wasn’t doing.

I’m absolutely convinced by the concept that you can’t pour into others if you’re tired both mentally and physically.  But maybe that’s the point. Perhaps it’s not a time when we should be thinking about helping others as much as we should be focused on how we’re doing; our own healing and the reality of the road ahead - the new journey that we’re on.  It wasn’t until this past weekend that I began to put my own life into perspective. Don’t get me wrong, I love spending time with my loving family and making memories but I am beginning to realize that I have a new life. I can’t expect things to be the way they were when my husband was alive. There were two of us during that life and I wasn’t the one having to make the major decisions.  Decisions about the house, about cars, about travel plans - he did it all.  We trusted each other and it all worked out smoothly. But now it’s just me and yes, sometimes I don’t make the best decisions. I act before I think things all the way through and I become impatient.  It’s been almost two years and every passing day I think of my husband and miss him dearly, but I’m coming to understand within myself that life moving forward is just going to be different. While I’m not afraid of change, this was nothing I was prepared for.


I think one of my biggest challenges are the voices in my head telling me this and that. I’m not afraid but sometimes I allow the quiet of the day to become overwhelming, if I’m being honest. I’m now doing the job of both of us and he was a hard worker - always doing something. So to think that I’ll be able to fill his shoes can be a bit much.  But that’s another realization. That too, will be different.  Our yard may not look exactly like he had it, but it’s what I can manage (with the help of a gardener).  I know he would be pleasantly surprised by most of what I’ve done thus far.  I sold many of the things he had because I didn’t need them anymore and that’s ok.  My new life might need to be a little simpler and maybe a little more like I would have it – somewhat girly, but that’s by choice. I’ve made the decision to not be consumed in self-pity or allow fear to creep into my days.  That’s just not who I am, that’s not what he would want, and it doesn’t have to be who you become either.

So what does this new life look like?  How am I supposed to act and feel?  To some it may seem freeing to not be faced with having to ask for permission or discuss what the other one wants to do.  Sometimes yes, but most of the time… no.  It often feels like you’re half of the person you used to be. When you go places you used to go – with or without friends – you don’t feel complete.  It can be lonely so sometimes you just don’t go. That’s the worst thing you could do.  Isolation is not your friend.  It can lead to depression and that’s a deep pit you may find yourself in. It doesn’t have to be that way.  It’s now up to us to make things enjoyable. To create new memories for ourselves and others around us. But I think most importantly to realize that alone, we are enough. It just might be something we haven’t experienced recently or maybe ever at all.  I started dating my husband at the age of 18, so to say these are uncharted waters would be an understatement; but not impossible.  It’s up to me to make this next chapter of my life what we would want if the tables were turned. If we had been the one to die, how would we have wanted our partner to carry on. (After significant grieving and realizing just how good they had it, of course). Just a little humor… but life goes on.


Something I’m realizing is that the second year feels almost worse than the first because that first year you’re doing your best to get through birthdays, holidays, special events that you celebrated as a family; but the second year you’re realizing that this is the way things will be now. For me, and maybe for you too, you’re trying to keep traditions in place that were cherished - at least by you. But this is nothing you expected to be faced with. It’s ok. New traditions will be made and you’ll continue to honor your loved one with new smiles and laughter. But one thing’s for sure in all of this change – you now have to take care of yourself.  You will need to focus on your health and mental well-being.

I, perhaps like you, miss the little things as much as I do the big things. I miss having that special someone who knew me – he knew all about me – the good and the… well let’s just say I’m not perfect, but he loved me as if I was.  We shared so many good times together and maybe that’s what you’re also missing.  Let me remind you of how fortunate we are to have those memories.  So many widows don’t have good memories and may be suffering with painful ones instead.  For that I would offer comfort and remind you that guilt is a robber of abundant life. Life’s journey allowed me to be with a man for 46 years and I will be forever grateful. But it’s been 638 days since that fateful day and for me it’s time for me to ‘pull myself up by my boot straps’ as they say and figure this thing out.



So here’s what I’ve learned in those days…


I’ve worked very hard to not be angry with God that he’s gone but instead to be appreciative that we found each other and built our lives together.


I’ve learned that I can do more than I expected if I’ll just read the instructions and focus without distractions.


I know wholeheartedly that you have to take care of your health and mental well-being.


I’ve realized that what matters most in life are the times you spend with others making memories, remembering to take photos - even if people don’t want you to. Because when they’re gone, that’s what will preserve those times spent together.


Keeping your cup full isn’t easy, but it’s a necessity.  As I come up on the two year anniversary, could it be that I’m still waiting for him to come through the door and rescue me from this new life that I didn’t sign up for? Or will I make the decision to live my new life – one day at a time. The choice is ours to make.  I refuse to allow sadness or grief to define who I am or what I’ll focus on, and I encourage you to do the same.


How will you fill your days?  For me, I love my job. The flexibility allows me to work when I want to, earn the money that I want in order to do fun things with family. And now that I’m making that decision to create my new life (right before your eyes), I will start planning to do things by myself and for myself.  I love giving back and lifting others up. That’s something that I’ll never grow tired of doing, but it’s not always of my time that I give.  I’ve watched people get so busy doing that they don’t have time for themselves.  I don’t want that but I do care about people - lots of people - so I find ways to make a difference.  I feel good about it and I think it’s a healthy way to live.  I can’t impose my ways on others, however.  I remember when my Dad died I thought that it would be nice for my Mom to volunteer at the library reading to children.  Turns out, I don’t think my Mom even liked children… so that wasn’t such a good idea.  But it’s important that now, more than ever, when you find yourself with time on your hands that you make a difference in the lives of others.  You may find that doing so will bring you joy.


I’m slowly allowing myself to see life without him, knowing that he would want me to find myself and move forward. Even though I have walked through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for God is with me. That verse reminds me that the valley isn’t removed, but I know who is by my side through it all. Grieving comes with so many questions of who you really are without them.  My peace comes from knowing that one day we will be together again but realizing that while I’m still here, I will cherish that bond that we had as I continue to live my life.

I don’t want this to sound like I’m not grateful for my family and friends because I am – 100%. But if history repeats itself, my Mom lived to be 96 years old so God willing, as she used to say, I’ve got some years ahead of me.  I need to figure this out.  By year two maybe people think that I’ve got it all figured out – maybe I make it look as though I do – but again, it’s sometimes perception not reality.  I know that I’m blessed and I was put on this earth to be a blessing. Focusing on what really matters.  I don’t sweat the small stuff and continue to  realize that most of what I’m concerned about is small stuff.


AND, most importantly, don’t forget to fill your cup.

Future blog posts will include:

• Why didn't I write that down?

• We all grieve differently

• Writing the story of your new life

• The little things are now the big things

• Changes you'll make that others don't understand

• When goodbye really is goodbye

• No regrets, only gratitude

• Losing track of time and everything else

• Managing added responsibilities

• Things people say or don't say

• What you should and shouldn't do... a widow's timeline

• My biggest fears and I've overcome them

Goodbye for now.

I hope to see you again.

~Carol

I remember that Monday morning...

It may seem that sharing my experience as a widow is a bit unusual, but my desire is to write about my personal journey with the hope that I can help you in yours or perhaps better prepare you for that ‘someday’, even if it’s far off in the future. Something that I’ve learned through this time in my life is that we never know when death may come knocking at our family’s door.  There’s not always a warning sign. Sometimes it just happens. I remember that Monday morning when I kissed my husband goodbye and went to work.  When I came home that afternoon, I found him peacefully lying on the back patio; he had a heart attack and instantly I had become a widow. No warning. No final goodbye. It was just that sudden. I was so incredibly unprepared for the hours, days, weeks and months to come. I’m not suggesting that we’re ever really ready for this type of tragedy but I do think that had I planned a little differently, I could have avoided some of the pitfalls that I’ve experienced. If you’re reading this as a member of the ‘widow’s club’, let me extend my sincere condolences to you.  It’s not easy.  None of us willingly signed up for this chapter in our lives but hopefully this blog will give you a little bit of comfort.  I would love for it to give you some new ideas that maybe you hadn’t tried or thought of before now, and through it all, I hope that something I tell you will bring you joy. For me, it’s been a long 16 months since that horrible day. What I have come to realize is that we were not only mentally unprepared, but I’ll call it ‘organizationally unprepared’ as well. Oh, we had the basics in place.  He and I had done a will and trust years prior because that’s the responsible thing to do, but there were so many things that we hadn’t done or even thought about doing.  My husband was extremely organized with our accounts and our business, which I was always grateful for, but I never paid attention to the details. Why should I?  He did it all so well and it wasn’t anything I felt I needed to know or understand. Let that be your first lesson!  Pay attention to the details.  Ask questions and write things down. If I had it to do all over again, I’d keep a journal of information that you may need to know someday.  In a different blog post, I’ll go much more into detail about things you really should know more about so that you’ll ask your significant other while you still can. During our journey together, my hope is that you’ll become much better prepared.  But if you’re already on your own journey as a widow, what I’ll share in my blog will be ways that I’ve found to honor my husband’s memory.  Things that I do differently now.  The many things that I wish I had done differently when he was alive. And hopefully bring a smile to your face along the way. It’s taken me over a year to come to terms with the fact that my husband is not going to come walking through the door. I’m sure many of you feel the same way.  It still feels so unreal to me that he’s gone.  I see his smiling face in pictures on the walls and miss him so much but it helps to constantly remind myself that he’s not gone forever. We will see him again one day. But for now, I will keep his memory alive so that he won’t be forgotten. I talk about him often.  I find it comforting to hear stories, to reminisce and laugh about the good times we shared. I have chosen to forget about any times that we struggled.  In our 46 years together, of course there were challenging times but now none of that matters. I chose to only remember the good times.  I do that because I can. I do that because there’s no reason to torture myself with any kind of regret. For me, that’s a more healthy way to live; a choice that only I can make for myself. You’re going to make many choices that you never dreamed possible. Some people won’t understand the decisions you make, but when you lose someone that was a huge part of your life, you have to do what’s right for you. Keep those who are supportive of you close. They’re a gift during challenging times. For me, I chose to be around the people who knew him best; people who I can share a funny story with and laugh instead of cry.  Crying - yes, I still cry.  It comes in waves. Most times at the oddest time like when I’m grocery shopping or at Costco when I see the things we used to buy. If you ever see a woman crying at the meat counter, it might be me.  My husband loved to cook and I’m learning, but it’s not the same. I miss coming home to the aroma of his meals, the fresh cut flowers on the counter next to my glass of wine.  I was spoiled for decades!  Through it all, I could choose to be bitter that it’s all been taken away, or I can simply be grateful that I experienced that life.  I chose the latter. All of this takes time to realize that I’m living a different life now - one in which I will be the captain of my own ship. I decide when I come and go.  I now make decisions about things that before we made together. It all seems very strange.  At times you will feel very alone, and yes, very sad but I rely on my faith and that gives me strength. I never imagined being in this place so early in my life. Maybe 64 to some people isn’t too early to be a widow, but I certainly thought it was. I thought that only old people were widows - like my Mom who was 85 when my Dad died, but obviously that wasn’t the plan. I’ve learned to accept things that happen which we can’t change, but I also know that we decide for ourselves how we will respond. Change happens and we can either let it mold us into someone we don’t even recognize or we can choose to respond with grace and accept our new life. Again, I choose the latter. Many people who know me best would say that I like to have control over things. I have always thought of myself as a leader, not necessarily as a follower.  If this ordeal has taught me one thing it’s that we don’t always have control, especially when your best friend dies suddenly. The range of emotions you’ll experience are deep and wide.  Shock would be one way to describe what I felt.  They say that you should wait a year before doing anything significant.  I definitely agree. Some things will look overwhelming to you at first, but perhaps exploring your options and getting a little help is best - at least in the beginning. When others offer help, say yes. I was never one that asked for help.  I didn’t have to because I was married to the one who helped everyone, but now I’m on the receiving end. If you’re fortunate enough to have people offering, let them help you. It’s good for both of you. My husband was a master at gardening.  I thought for the first 10 months my family and I could take care of our ‘almost an acre’ piece of paradise that he had created for us.  It was an exhausting endeavor and one that I soon realized I didn’t need or want to do.  I now have a gardener. Grieving is very personal.  We all grieve differently.  For me, it’s about expressing my feelings in a very personal way. Here are some of the ways that I’ve found healing:

• Every Friday I post a photo on social media. I call it “Favorite Photo Friday”.  I don’t say anything about the photo. I let it speak for itself but it tells a story of who he was and what was important to him. It might be a photo with family or a big fish that he caught. They always bring a smile to my face.
  

  
  
  
  
• To celebrate his birthday the first year, I knew the day would be difficult so I made multiple copies of hundreds of photos. We got together as a family and each of us made our own personal photo album, using the photos that were the most special to us. All of us, even the smallest grandchildren created a keepsake that would help us reminisce about the times that were personal.  Memories that we never wanted to forget.

  

  
  

  
  
• Since my husband loved working in the yard, I have a pair of his work boots on the back patio with this plaque over the top to commemorate his hard work.

  

  
  
• I have a cement bench in our backyard under the redwood tree.

  

  
  
• One of my favorite ways to display photos is on an Aura frame. Others through the app can send pictures they find to your frame. Mine is in my kitchen so every morning I see photos scrolling.  Here’s where you can find that frame ~ Aura.com
• I framed one of my valentine cards from him and put it next to my sink. Yes, keep some of your special cards.  They may serve as a nice reminder of your love for someone someday.

  

  
  
• I have a collage of photos on my bedroom wall. They make me smile.

  

  The framed message is one that I had at his funeral.
• I have a photo of my husband as the screen saver on my phone. I take him with me everywhere I go. I also wear his wedding ring every day.

  YES… I am fortunate that I took a LOT of photos over the years. Let that be another lesson.
• Something fun I plan to do for Christmas 2026 will be to put together a cookbook with his favorite recipes to give to friends and family as a special gift from him. He was a wonderful cook.

Here’s another crazy thing … When my husband died, he had just purchased a huge bag of socks from Costco.  Instead of donating them, I decided to put together Ziplock bags filled with things that I could give to the less fortunate who stand on the street corner.  Snacks, a scripture verse and yes - a pair of clean socks. Often times my husband would buy a meal to give to someone who was down on their luck, so I knew that he would have approved of my idea to hand out a bag of healthy snacks and a pair of his socks.  Now I buy packs of socks when I go to Costco to keep this charitable idea going in his honor. Through it all, I have been so blessed so my hope is to be a blessing through random acts of kindness. If you know your Bible, you’re familiar with the ‘fruit of the spirit’. That’s who he was striving to be… not perfection but persistence – one step at a time. One day at a time. In our new life, there are things I don’t like to say.  I never like to say I’m ‘moving on’.  That makes it sound like I’m leaving him behind.  Instead I like to think of it as moving forward.  I never want to let go of the memories we shared.  I will always take those memories with me. But when we lose someone close to us, it feels like a piece of us is missing. It’s hard but we have to realize that life goes on. Responsibilities don’t stop. Others need you, so every day you wake up and make the decision to do your best. When someone dies suddenly, you just hope you said all that you wanted to say. He knew he was loved and he loved our family so deeply. To be honest, I wouldn’t have wanted a prolonged illness for him. He’s the lucky one who instantly went home to meet Jesus.  Something that I’ll be forever grateful for … knowing that he had recommitted his life to Christ. Every Sunday my tears fall because I know that he’s rejoicing with the angels while I’m praising God here on earth. I still sit in the same seats at church that we sat in together. I miss holding his hand but I hold my memories tight. When I weep, they’re not always sad tears. Many times they’re tears of joy. Grateful for the 46 years we shared together.

Where does the time go??

Through it all, I know that I am blessed and I hope you feel the same.  Over the course of the next weeks, months and maybe even years I’ll be at this site sharing A Widow’s Journey.  Nothing I ever envisioned doing, but I hope that my experiences can be helpful, even if just in a small way, to helping you find peace in your new life. Future blog posts will include:

• Planning a funeral
• You can't fill from an empty cup
• Why didn't I write that down?
• We all grieve differently
• Writing the story of your new life
• The little things are now the big things
• Changes you'll make that others don't understand
• When goodbye really is goodbye
• No regrets, only gratitude
• Losing track of time and everything else
• Managing added responsibilities
• Things people say or don't say
• What you should and shouldn't do... a widow's timeline
• My biggest fears and I've overcome them

Goodbye for now.

I hope to see you again. ~Carol