A Widow’s Inventory of Love

My unexpected love has come in the form of my daughter. Before we were just regular old mother and daughter. Now she is my everything. She helps me and loves me in all ways. It is humbling and I hope I live up to it for her.

Valentine’s Day is over.

Some of us survived it. Some of us powered through it. Some of us pretended it didn’t exist. Some of us cried in the bathroom and then fixed our mascara.

Whatever is fine.

Grief doesn’t run on a calendar. Just because February 14 has passed doesn’t mean the ache has.

Let's take inventory.

Not of what we lost. We know that inventory by heart.

But of the love that remains.

This is not about replacing your beloved. It is not about pretending friendship equals husband love. It is not about minimizing the hole in your heart.

It’s about stretching our eyes. Because here’s what I’ve learned as a widow: When I am missing Eric’s love the most, I sometimes overlook other love completely.

And I don’t want to live blind to what is still here.

A Widow’s Inventory of Love

If you have the capacity, grab a journal. If not, just sit quietly and consider:

1. The Love I Miss Most

What specific kind of love did your beloved give you?

Was it protection? Humor? Steadiness? Physical touch? Being deeply known?

Name it clearly.

Now ask yourself: Where do I experience even a small echo of that?

Not the same. Just an echo.

2. The Love That Shows Up for Me

Who checks in? Who sits with you? Who texts? Who prays? Who makes you laugh?

Have you minimized this love because it doesn’t look the way you wanted it to?

3. The Love I Resist Receiving

Widows become self-contained.

We handle things. We endure. We survive.

But sometimes we push away help because we don’t want to need anyone again.

Is it hard to let your children love you? Is it uncomfortable when friends show up? Do you downplay kindness?

4. The Love I Carry Forward

How has grief changed the way you love?

Are you more compassionate? More attentive? More intentional? More forgiving?

Sometimes the clearest evidence that love still exists is the way we love differently now.

This is stretching work.

It does not mean you aren’t lonely. It does not mean you don’t long for romantic love. It does not mean the hole isn’t real.

It simply means your life is not empty.

And if today you do feel empty? This is not condemnation. It is an invitation. Come back to this when you’re ready.

If you are new to widowhood and need something steady and practical, I have a free guide called Seven Things to Help You Mourn the Loss of Your Loved One. 

It was created especially for widows navigating early grief.

You can find it here.

You are not broken.

You are not behind.

And your story is not over.

With love, Lisa