Episode 174: The Purpose Series part 5/5
7/29/26
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You are listening to the Life Reconstructed podcast with me, Teresa Amaral Beshwate, grief
expert, best-selling author and widow. I’m so glad you’re here because in this and every
episode, I shine a light on the widowed way forward.
Hello and welcome to episode 174 of Life Reconstructed: a widowed way forward. This is the fifth
and final episode in our series on meaning and purpose after loss.
Over the past four episodes, we've talked about who you were before loss and who you are now.
We've talked about self-care as purpose. We've talked about living the question instead of
demanding immediate answers. And last week, we talked about curiosity, experimentation, and
giving yourself permission to be a beginner again.
Today, I want to talk about one final piece of rebuilding a meaningful life after loss.
Abundance.
And please don’t think I'm about to tell you to be positive all the time. I wouldn’t do that.
This isn't about pretending grief doesn't exist.
And it’s not about denying pain.
It’s not about looking on the bright side.
This is about understanding how your brain works and learning how to intentionally direct it.
One of the most important things to know about the human brain is that it naturally pays more
attention to threats than opportunities.
This was useful for survival.
Thousands of years ago, the humans who noticed danger survived long enough to pass along their
genes. As a result, we inherited brains that are exceptionally good at finding problems.
Finding risks, what could go wrong, what’s missing.
Finding evidence that we're not safe.
This is specifically the primitive part of the brain.
And after the loss of a spouse, that primitive brain often gets louder.
Because something terrible happened.
Something you couldn’t prevent.
Something that changed your world.
So your brain becomes even more vigilant.
Even more protective.
Even more focused on what could hurt.
And while that's understandable, it often creates a mindset of scarcity, which is all about
limitations.
Scarcity says:
"My best years are behind me."
"My chance at happiness is gone."
"No one will ever understand me."
"I already had my person."
"My life is smaller now."
"Nothing meaningful is left."
"There isn't enough joy, or love.”
"There isn't enough time."
Now, I want to be very careful here.
Those thoughts are understandable.
Many widowed people have them.
I had them too.
The problem is not that your brain offers scarcity.
The problem is when you assume scarcity is the truth.
Because your brain is not designed to show you all possibilities.
It's designed to show you potential threats.
And there's a big difference.
One of the questions I teach my clients to ask themselves is:
What does abundance look like here?
Not in a general sense, but in a specific situation.
Here’s an example.
Let's say your brain says:
"I'll never have meaningful relationships again."
What does abundance look like here?
Maybe abundance looks like deep friendships.
Maybe abundance looks like reconnecting with family.
Maybe abundance looks like meeting people who share your interests.
Maybe abundance looks like discovering that meaningful connection comes in many forms.
Or maybe your brain says:
"My purpose is gone."
What does abundance look like here?
Maybe abundance looks like multiple possible purposes.
Maybe abundance looks like learning.
Teaching.
Mentoring.
Creating.
Serving.
Growing.
Maybe abundance looks like not having to choose one purpose for the rest of your life.
Because purpose can evolve.
Maybe your brain says:
"I missed my chance."
What does abundance look like here?
Perhaps abundance looks like realizing there are opportunities you haven't even imagined yet.
Experiences you haven't had.
People you haven't met.
Versions of yourself you haven't discovered.
There's a quote I love that says:
"You haven't met all the people who are going to love you yet."
Think about that for a moment.
Not romantic love necessarily.
Just love.
Friendship.
Community.
Neighbors.
Mentors.
People who will care about you.
People whose lives will be better because you're in them.
People whose lives will make your life better too.
That's abundance.
Now, notice what I'm not saying.
I'm not saying your spouse is replaceable.
They're not.
I'm not saying grief disappears.
It doesn't.
I'm not saying life becomes exactly what you planned.
It won't.
And I'm certainly not saying your future has to be built apart from your spouse.
In fact, I believe the opposite.
You can build a future on the foundation of your love, fueled by your love.
The love you have for your spouse can continue fueling your decisions.
Your courage.
Your compassion.
Your growth.
The way you show up in the world.
The way you care for others.
The life you create.
And I also believe their love for you remains available to you.
I know not everyone shares that belief, and that's okay.
But I believe love is eternal.
I believe love is infinite.
I believe that what was built between two people does not end because of a physical death.
And when I think about abundance, that's part of it too.
Not less love.
Continued love.
And sometimes abundance simply means discovering that your capacity for connection is far
greater than you realized.
Your connection with your spouse can continue.
Your connection with yourself can deepen.
Your connection with family can grow.
Your connection with friends can expand.
Your connection with new people can surprise you.
None of those diminish the love you have for your spouse.
Love is not a finite resource.
And I want to share something personal.
For years, one of my fears was that I would feel less connected to my husband as time passed.
Many widowed people worry about that.
They worry that healing means forgetting.
They worry that moving forward means leaving their spouse behind.
They worry that if they laugh more, live more, or create a meaningful life again, the connection
will somehow weaken.
But my experience has been exactly the opposite.
Nearly fourteen years later, I feel more connected to him than I did in those early years.
The relationship changed.
It evolved.
It became integrated into who I am.
Into how I think.
Into how I love.
Into how I coach.
Into the life I've created.
That's abundance too.
A growing connection.
A deepening connection.
A love that continues to shape your life.
This is not about replacing what was lost.
This is about recognizing that loss and possibility can coexist.
Grief and possibility can coexist.
Love and possibility can coexist.
You do not have to choose one or the other.
In fact, one of the most beautiful things I've witnessed over years of coaching widowed people
is seeing them create lives they never would have chosen, but eventually grow to love. I love
the phone calls and text messages that start with, “you’re never going to believe this…”
Not because they stopped loving their spouse.
Not because they forgot.
Not because they moved on.
But because they moved forward.
Because they remained open.
Because they allowed themselves to imagine something beyond the pain.
I think many widowed people spend years unconsciously asking:
What's missing?
Who's missing?
What's gone?
And those are normal questions.
Of course they are.
Your spouse's physical absence matters tremendously.
But if those are the only questions we ask, our brains become even more skilled at finding
absence.
What if we also asked ourselves:
What's available?
What's possible?
What's growing?
What's meaningful?
What's here?
What could be?
Because the brain tends to find evidence for the questions we repeatedly ask it.
And that's why intentional questions matter.
Now, does abundance mean every day feels hopeful?
No.
Some days will still feel heavy.
Some days grief will be front and center.
Some days your capacity will be limited.
That's part of being human.
That's part of loving someone whose physical presence is no longer here.
But abundance means refusing to let your loss be the only thing your brain sees.
It means making room for possibility alongside pain.
And that distinction matters.
Because the goal is not to eliminate grief.
The goal is to build a life large enough to hold both grief and possibility.
Both love and growth.
Both sadness and joy.
Both memory and future.
And if you've listened to this entire series, I hope that's what you've taken away.
You are not the same person you were before loss.
And that's okay.
You are learning who you are now.
You are allowed to care for yourself.
You are allowed to not have all the answers.
You are allowed to be curious.
You are allowed to try new things.
You are allowed to remain open to possibilities you cannot yet see.
You are allowed to believe that love still lives.
You are allowed to believe that your connection with your spouse can continue to grow.
You are allowed to believe that there are still people you have not yet met who will care deeply
about you.
You are allowed to believe that meaning, purpose, connection, joy, and love are not behind you.
They may look different.
But different does not mean less.
And that, to me, is abundance.
Before we close today, don't forget to download the journal prompts for this episode.
Choose the questions that resonate with you and spend some time exploring them.
I hope these conversations on purpose have given you a little more compassion, a little more
curiosity, and a little more hope.
Be gentle with yourself.
Grieving is learning.
Remember, love is the way forward.
If this episode was helpful, please share it with a widowed friend. And remember that I believe
in you, and I’m here for you. Take care.
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If you’ve found this podcast helpful, check out my newest book, Time Doesn’t Heal, Why High
Achieving Widowed People Feel Stuck, and How to Rebuild a Meaningful Life. It’s now available
on Audible, in paperback and Kindle, plus there’s an accompanying journal to help you apply what you learn. And, join the free course so I can help you even more. Links are in the show notes.
