Loneliness as a widow is not just the absence of a partner; it’s an emptiness that follows you through every part of your day. From waking up to space (once occupied) beside you to the silence that fills the home once shared with laughter, the void feels endless. When I lost my husband, I walked this path. I didn’t just lose the man I loved. I lost a companion, the person I thought I would spend the rest of my life with.

One of the hardest things to deal with after loss is the silence. When everyone has offered their condolences and returned to their lives, you are left with a house that feels too empty. The conversations you used to have with your spouse, shared routines, and small gestures are all gone instantly. For me, the silence after my husband’s death was almost unbearable. I found myself avoiding places we had shared and shrinking from conversations that reminded me of what I had lost.

In the early days after my husband’s death, the loneliness was almost suffocating. It felt like there was a constant ache that could not be soothed. I had my 11 month old son to care for, making the void more pronounced.  In moments like these, the loneliness feels like an uninvited guest that never leaves. It wraps itself around you, whispering doubts, fears, and the unbearable reality of being “alone.” But avoiding the silence didn’t make it disappear—it only deepened the loneliness. I had to learn to face it head-on. It took time, but I eventually realized that solitude didn’t have to be my enemy.

Grief has a way of stripping you down but also invites you to rebuild. The solitude became a space where I could reconnect with my inner strength, and I discovered that the love and memories I shared with my husband were not confined to the past. They lived on within me.  In those quiet moments, I began to find pieces of myself I had forgotten. Finding strength in solitude doesn’t happen overnight. But through this journey, I’ve come to realize that loneliness, while incredibly painful, can also be a gateway to self-discovery and purpose. It took countless nights of tears and prayers, moments where I doubted my ability to continue, and even times when I wanted to give up. But I learned to be gentle with myself and trust that peace will eventually follow pain just as day follows night.

What I learned over time, though, is that solitude doesn’t have to be the enemy. It can become a source of healing. I found that when I stopped running from the loneliness and instead sat with it, I began to hear my own heart again. I had spent so much time focused on what was lost that I forgot about what remained—myself, my son, my purpose in life. Suddenly, I was not just grieving my losses, but I was also responsible for guiding another young soul through the same grief. My focus shifted. Though the loneliness remained, my heart expanded to make room for both my son’s pain, and in caring for him, I found new strength.

Finding Strength in Solitude

Widowhood is incredibly tough. The loneliness may always linger, but it doesn’t have to consume you. There is strength to be found in solitude. The moments of silence can become moments of deep reflection. I have found that solitude gave me space to listen to my inner voice, reconnect with my son, and honour my husband’s memory in a way that felt authentic. Solitude allowed me to redefine my purpose. I have transitioned to a woman who can not only stand on her own but can be a source of inspiration to others. This is why I coach and mentor women in grief today. Not because I have all the answers, but because I’ve walked the dark path of loss, and I know that there is light at the end of it. Here are some of the ways I’ve learned to cope with the loneliness, and I hope they bring you a sense of comfort:

1. Create Rituals for Yourself
   One thing that helped me was creating small rituals that allowed me to honour my grief but also gave me structure. Every day, I journal. I pour my heart onto paper, not just about the pain, but also about the moments of gratitude. Consequently, I’ve written books and journals that can guide others through this process—spaces to write their thoughts, feelings, and the small steps to take toward healing.
2. Allow Yourself to Feel
   You don’t have to be strong every minute of every day. It’s okay to cry, to feel angry, to miss your spouse deeply. The loneliness may feel unbearable, but it’s part of your healing journey. I remember sitting alone late at night, sobbing in the quiet of the house. It was in those moments I realised I wasn’t weak—I was healing.
3. Rebuild Your Identity
   Widowhood changes you. I struggled with who I was without my husband. Through time, I discovered that widowhood is part of my story, but it doesn’t define my entire identity. I started to rebuild—exploring hobbies I had forgotten, rediscovering passions I put on hold, and most importantly, embracing my new role as a grief coach. If you’re feeling lost in this new identity, my books offer guided questions to help you reconnect with yourself.
4. Reach Out to Others
   Solitude doesn’t mean isolation. I had to learn to ask for help—something I wasn’t used to doing. Reach out to family and friends who care, and even support groups. There is power in connection, even when you feel most alone. This is why I am building a community of women who have experienced loss. The idea is to draw from our collective strengths on difficult days. Feel free to join us [Link to mentorship program, or Book a session].
5. Find Purpose in the Pain
   One of the most powerful ways to navigate loneliness is to channel your pain into purpose. For me, this meant creating workbooks and coaching other women who were grieving. It brought me immense healing to help others navigate the same road I have travelled. Consider how your pain might be used, whether in the same way or in some other productive way.

For every widow, for every woman who has lost a part of her heart, my message is this: Do not fear the silence. Do not fear loneliness. Though it feels endless, there is strength in it. Lean into the memories, the moments of reflection, and the quiet prayers. Allow yourself to feel the full weight of your emotions, knowing they will not crush you. And while the path of grief may be long and lonely, there are fellow travellers along the way—people like me who understand your pain and are here to walk with you.