I’ve been a widow for six years, and somehow, I never knew that International Widow’s Day existed, until now. June 23 is set aside to recognize people around the world who have lost a spouse. It’s not a loud holiday. There’s no card section or big awareness campaign. But it’s meaningful because widowhood is one of those life experiences that changes everything, and yet, often goes unnamed.

Widowhood is a quiet kind of club. One that no one wants to join. But once you’re in, you understand. You start to notice who else is carrying this kind of loss. You gravitate toward them. Because no matter how loving or well-intentioned the people around you are, there’s a level of grief, and adjustment, that only another widow truly understands.

The Invisible Work of Two

When your person dies, you don’t just lose a companion. You lose a division of labor that was built over years, even decades. Most couples don’t share every responsibility equally. They divide and conquer. In our case, I managed the bills and day-to-day finances. My husband, John, handled our investments. He was good at it. He was disciplined, informed, and steady. It wasn’t an area I paid much attention to.

After he died, I avoided it for as long as I could. But eventually, I had to admit: I needed help. I now work with someone who helps me manage that part of my life. And that’s just one example. There are countless roles a partner fills, and when they’re gone, you find yourself staring into a series of holes you didn’t even know existed.

The Power of Specific Support

When I joined the Living with Loss group at Gilda’s Club Kansas City, I found my tribe. Everyone there had lost someone to cancer. That common experience made all the difference. We had grieved before the death, grieved the life we expected to live, the plans that cancer stole from us. Then we grieved again after our person died.

That double-layered grief was something we didn’t have to explain. It was understood.

I’ve seen similar dynamics in the grief group I now co-facilitate at Solace House. There’s a special kind of healing that happens when people share space with others who’ve experienced a similar type of death. The silence that often surrounds death by suicide. The guilt that can come with end-of-life decision-making. It’s not about comparing pain. It’s about the comfort that comes from being with people who just… get it.

The Loneliness No One Talks About

Former Surgeon General Dr. Vivek Murthy has called loneliness an epidemic and I believe widows are especially vulnerable. After the casseroles stop, and the world keeps spinning, the silence can be overwhelming.

A few widows in my circle made a pact: we would never consider it a slight if one of us reached out last minute to go to dinner. Because sometimes you don’t know how you’ll feel until an hour before dinner. And sometimes, the only thing you need is not to eat alone.

Dating After Loss

After six years, I decided I was ready to date. That came with its own challenges. I learned pretty quickly to refer to John as my “late husband” early on, otherwise, the assumption was always divorce, and it just created awkwardness.

In the early days, I thought only another widow would understand. But I’ve since learned that what matters most is finding someone who is supportive, open to deep conversation, emotionally aware, and confident enough to sit with complexity. Because widowhood doesn’t disappear when you start dating again. It simply comes along with you in a new way.

A Gentle Invitation

If there’s a call to action in this post, it’s a simple one: call a widow. Invite them to dinner, to coffee, for a walk in the park. Don’t worry if it’s last minute. Don’t worry if you don’t know what to say. Just show up.

Widowhood is hard. But connection softens the edges.

So today, on International Widow’s Day, let’s honor the people navigating this road. Let’s remind them, and ourselves, that even in the midst of grief and rebuilding, we are more than enough.