Episode 180: Dear Newly Widowed Self, from year 14
9/9/26
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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 180. Fourteen years after my husband passed, I know things about
grief, love, and rebuilding that my newly widowed self couldn't possibly have known. Today, on
our wedding anniversary, I'm sharing five things I wish I could go back and tell her.
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This episode releases on September 9th, which is my wedding anniversary.
And two days ago, September 7th, marked fourteen years since my husband passed.
Fourteen years.
It's strange to even say that.
Because fourteen years ago, I couldn't imagine being fourteen years widowed.
I couldn't imagine fourteen years without his physical presence.
Honestly, I couldn't imagine the next day.
I certainly couldn't imagine the life I'm living today.
And as I've approached these dates this year, I've been thinking about the woman I was in
September of 2012.
What would I tell her if I could sit beside her now?
Not because any of these things would have taken away her grief.
They wouldn't have.
And I'm not sure she would have believed me anyway.
But there are things I know now that I couldn't possibly have known then.
And today, on our wedding anniversary, I want to share five of them.
1. Misery isn't required.
The first thing I would tell myself is this:
You don't have to be miserable to prove that you love him.
And notice that I said love.
Present tense.
You love him.
That doesn't change.
But somewhere along the way, we can start believing that our suffering is evidence of our love.
That if we laugh too much, enjoy ourselves too much, or have a genuinely good day, maybe it says
something about how much we miss them.
It doesn't.
My husband doesn't need me to suffer in order for our marriage to matter.
My misery doesn't prove my love for him.
And my joy doesn't diminish it.
So I would tell that newly widowed version of myself:
When you can laugh, laugh.
When you have a good day, let it be a good day.
When something delights you, allow yourself to be delighted.
When joy shows up, don't interrogate it.
Just take it at face value.
Being okay is not disrespectful to him.
Living well doesn't dishonor him.
In fact, I believe it's the best way to honor him.
2. You can live without his physical presence.
I would tell myself:
I know you don't believe this right now, but you can live without his physical presence.
And more importantly, you will choose to.
At first, maybe you won't choose life for yourself.
Maybe you'll choose it for the people who love you.
For the people who don't want to lose you, too.
That's enough.
You don't have to be excited about your future.
You don't even have to want the life that's in front of you.
Just stay.
Keep getting up.
Keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Because eventually, something is going to change.
Eventually, you're going to choose life for yourself, too.
You're going to opt back in to living.
Not because you stopped missing him.
Not because this is the life you would have chosen.
But because you're going to discover that there is still a life here worth living.
And eventually, you're not just going to tolerate that life.
You're going to love parts of it.
Maybe even a lot of it.
And you're going to realize that choosing to live fully is a beautiful way to honor him—and the
person you're becoming.
3. It won't always hurt like this.
I would tell her:
This intensity isn't permanent.
Grief changes.
That's the way of it.
I'm not going to tell you that time heals.
I'm not going to tell you that one day you won't grieve him anymore.
But I will tell you that you are going to get stronger.
You're going to find tools that help.
You're going to learn how your brain works.
You're going to understand your emotions differently.
You're going to learn what adds unnecessary suffering to grief and what helps you carry it.
You're going to get really good at this.
Not because you wanted to.
But because you'll practice.
Day after day after day.
And eventually, what feels impossible to carry right now will become something you know how to
carry well.
You don't need to know how to carry all of your future days.
You only need to carry today.
And tomorrow, you'll carry tomorrow.
It won't always hurt like this.
4. He is still your safe place.
This one might have been the hardest for me to understand fourteen years ago.
Because he was my safe place.
And when his physical presence disappeared, it felt like my safe place disappeared with him.
But I would tell that version of me:
He is still your safe place.
He always will be.
He's not gone from you.
His physical body isn't here.
But his love is.
And over these fourteen years, I've come to believe deeply that love is eternal.
Love is infinite.
His love was never confined to his physical body.
It wasn’t confined to the years we physically shared.
His love is big.
It is present.
And he will never leave me.
I don't have to leave him behind in order to keep living.
I don't have to loosen my connection with him in order to create something new.
I get to bring him forward with me.
Which brings me to the biggest thing I think I would tell myself.
5. The rest of your life is going to be one big AND.
Not but.
And.
He passed and you will continue to live.
He passed and you will figure out how to bring him forward as you rebuild your life.
He passed and you will grow and heal and eventually help other people do the same.
You will miss his physical presence and build a beautiful life.
You will feel grief and joy—sometimes at the very same time.
You will ache for him and feel his love all around you.
You will grieve the future you had planned and feel enormous gratitude for the life you created
together.
Some friendships will fade away and new, deep, wonderful friendships will begin.
You will become someone you could never have become if this hadn't happened and you’ll never be
glad that it happened.
You will carry grief and gratitude.
Loss and love.
Heartache and hope.
You don't have to choose between them.
And eventually, you're going to realize that almost everything you do is fueled by his love.
There is a quote from Anne Lamott that I love:
“Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right
thing, the dawn will come.”
Fourteen years ago, I didn't need to know what my life would look like in 2026.
I couldn't have imagined it anyway.
I didn't need some grand vision for my future.
I just needed enough stubborn hope to keep showing up.
And on the days when I couldn't hold that hope myself, other people held it for me.
Until eventually, the dawn came.
But here's what I want to make really clear:
The dawn didn't come because my husband became less important.
It didn't come because I stopped loving him.
It didn't come because I finally moved on.
The dawn came with him.
If I could sit beside the woman I was fourteen years ago, I wouldn't tell her that everything
happens for a reason.
I wouldn't tell her that time heals.
And I certainly wouldn't tell her to move on.
I'd tell her:
You love him.
You will always love him.
And you are going to live.
Those two things are not in opposition.
You will laugh again.
You will build again.
You will love your life again.
You will become stronger than you can possibly imagine right now.
You will help people you haven't even met yet.
And you won't have to leave him behind to do any of it.
You'll bring him with you.
Years from now, you'll still miss his physical presence.
You'll still love him.
And you'll look around at this beautiful, complicated, unexpected life you've built and realize:
You did it together.
His love came with you.
It always will.
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.
