When Your World Breaks Open: Finding Your Way in the First Year After Loss
Losing your husband is a heartbreak few can understand unless they’ve walked that road themselves. It’s not just the absence of someone you love—it’s the unravelling of routines, the silence in the house, the ache in your chest when you wake up and remember again that he’s gone. It’s crying over laundry. It’s forgetting how to breathe during the quiet moments. It’s wondering who you are without him.
If you are in the first year of grieving your partner, I want to share my learnings from being where you are. This is a time when everything may feel heavy, uncertain, and overwhelming—but there is a way through. Not around. Not over. But through.
You are not alone. And while there’s no quick fix, there are things that can help. Not to erase the pain—but to help you hold it while slowly rebuilding a life that can feel steady again.
1. You Are Allowed to Feel Everything
Grief is not neat. One moment you’re “doing okay,” and the next, you’re crying in the middle of the grocery store because they’ve moved the cereal aisle, and you can’t find the brand he always bought.
Let your feelings come. Anger. Numbness. Sadness. Laughter. Relief. Loneliness. Guilt. All of it is part of the process. There’s no right or wrong emotion to feel. And none of it makes you a bad widow, a bad Christian, or a weak person.
All feelings are right.
Feeling the feelings is the path to healing. There is no such thing as a bad or wrong feeling. I was so angry with my husband for dying, even though it was not his choice, and he had fought the cancer. But he had still left me to raise our daughters on my own and he promised he would be there. I was angry.
Others have expressed their guilt because they are glad the time is over. If it has been a prolonged illness or they were difficult or in a lot of pain, it is OK to feel relief, to even be happy.
All feelings are right.
“The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart.” — Psalm 34:18
Things to Try:
Keep a journal just for your raw emotions. No filter. No judgement. (This is not a journal to keep, this is paper that you can write exactly how you are feeling, swear, cry, yell at them, or at God (He can take it.) Get those feelings out onto the paper, and then burn it!!
Give yourself permission to cry—or not to cry. It is OK if you don’t cry, that doesn’t mean you have less grief. It might happen a while down the track.
Talk to someone safe (a grief counsellor, a friend, a support group).
Ponder this:
What emotion am I most afraid to feel right now?
What would it look like to let that feeling come without judging it?
2. Your Grief is Yours Alone—But You Don’t Have to Do It Alone
People mean well, but they might say things that make you want to scream. “He’s in a better place.” “You’re so strong.” “At least you had so many good years.”
Sometimes what you need is not a solution, but simply someone who will sit with you in the silence.
Seek out support—not just sympathy.
Look for:
A grief support group (many churches and community centres offer them).
A trusted counsellor who specialises in bereavement.
A friend who lets you talk about him without changing the subject.
“Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.” — Galatians 6:2
Things to Try:
Reach out to someone who has also lost a spouse.
Ask a friend for a regular check-in call or walk.
Try a grief devotional or workbook for structure and reflection.
3. Small Routines = Steady Ground
One of the hardest parts of early grief is that nothing feels familiar anymore. Your rhythms are gone. But creating even a tiny bit of structure can help anchor you in the storm.
Start with morning and evening:
Wake up and open the curtains.
Say a prayer before your feet touch the ground.
Make a warm drink and sit for 10 minutes in quiet.
In the evening, light a candle, read a few comforting scriptures or affirmations, and thank God for getting you through another day.
This isn’t about “being productive.” It’s about giving yourself something steady when everything else feels uncertain.
“Give us this day our daily bread.” — Matthew 6:11
4. Move Your Body (Gently)
Grief lives in the body. That tension in your shoulders. The ache in your chest. The tight jaw. You’re holding a lot.
You don’t need to join a gym. Just move.
Stretch your arms and legs in bed.
Take a short walk outside, even if it’s just to the letterbox.
Do some light gardening.
Try a beginner’s yoga video for grief on YouTube.
Movement isn’t about fitness—it’s about shifting the heaviness, even just a little.
Ponder this:
How does my body feel today?
What kind of movement would feel kind, not punishing?
5. Let Your Home Hold You
The house may feel too quiet now. Or too full of memories. Or both. You don’t have to change everything—but you can make your home feel like a soft place to land.
Ideas:
Rearrange furniture to create a fresh energy.
Add a cozy blanket or a soft light in the evenings.
Place a comforting scripture or quote somewhere visible.
Create a small “remembering corner” with a photo, candle, or memento.
I felt compelled to get rid of my husband’s clothes straight away. I don’t know why, but they added to the anger. But my children were not ready for such a dramatic move, so my older daughter moved all his clothes into big bags and put them in the garage and then the children could go and take the things they wanted.
“He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.” — Psalm 23:2
6. Stay Nourished (Even If You Don’t Feel Like It)
You might forget to eat. Or only want toast and chocolate. That’s okay for a while—but your body needs fuel for the emotional work it’s doing.
Stock up on simple, healthy options:
Soup, pre-cut veggies, smoothies, eggs, toast.
Drink water. Lots of it.
Take a multivitamin if you’re not eating much.
You don’t have to cook three-course meals. You just need enough to keep going.
Things to Try:
Invite a friend over for a simple meal.
Cook and freeze a few things when you’re up to it.
Say grace even over the smallest meal—it reminds your soul you are still connected to God.
7. Honor the Relationship, Not Just the Loss
Talk about him. Out loud. With people who understand. Keep his name in your home, on your lips, in your heart.
You might:
Write him letters. For me this started with writing about how angry I was, and why. Eventually I was able to write about how much I loved him. And the letter that really helped, was wrting one as if from him to me. How much he loved me, and how much he didn’t want to leave.
Share stories with family or friends. They are grieving too. My oldest son, who was his stepson, but also his closest friend. My children are starting their lives and want to share with him how well they are doing.
Create a memory box or album.
Celebrate his birthday or your anniversary in a gentle, meaningful way. For our wedding anniversary I buy myself presents from him. He would often buy me jewellery, so that what I get me.
“The memory of the just is blessed.” — Proverbs 10:7
You are not leaving him behind. You are learning to carry his love in a different way.
8. Make Room for Joy Without Guilt
This is the one that sneaks up on people. One day, you find yourself smiling. Laughing. Enjoying something. And then guilt punches you in the gut.
Please hear this: Joy is not betrayal. It’s survival. It’s a sign that your heart, though wounded, is still alive.
He would want that for you.
“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” — Psalm 30:5
Ponder this:
What made me smile today, even for a second?
What’s one thing I used to enjoy that I might try again?
9. Listen to What You Need
Some people heal best by staying busy. Others need rest and quiet. Some want to be surrounded by people. Others need solitude.
There’s no one-size-fits-all for grief.
Pay attention to your inner wisdom—and to the nudges from the Spirit. If you feel prompted to go for a walk, call someone, go to church, or stay home and rest—trust that.
This is a wonderful opportunity to learn exactly what helps us
We might never have had a time in life before this where we concentrate on exactly what we need. This is a good time to figure it out.
“If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God… and it shall be given him.” — James 1:5
10. The First Year Isn’t a Deadline
There’s a common myth that you’re supposed to “be better” after a year. You’re not a calendar. Grief doesn’t expire.
The first year is often about survival, and full of painful firsts. The second year is often where deeper processing begins. You start to be aware that he is never coming home. That this is your life now. Healing isn’t about forgetting—it’s about becoming whole again, with a scar that tells a story.
Give yourself the grace to move through this at your own pace.
Final Thoughts: You Are Still Here. And That Matters.
You may not feel strong right now, but getting out of bed? That’s strength.
Crying in the car but still running errands? That’s strength.
Feeling shattered but still saying prayers? That’s faith.
This first year will be full of many firsts—without him. And every one of them is hard. But they also show something else: you are still here. Still breathing. Still becoming. Still held in God’s love.
“Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee.” — Isaiah 41:10
Gentle Actions You Can Take This Week:
Choose one small daily routine to stick with (e.g. morning tea, evening walk).
Reach out to someone who “gets it.”
Write your husband a letter about what you miss.
Read Psalm 23 out loud before bed.
Start a gratitude list—even if it’s just “I got through today.”