Charlie and I would have celebrated sixty years of marriage on September 6, 2024. But it was not to be. We met in college in 1964 and married a few months later. Since then, he had been my constant companion until December 19, 2023, when he took his last breath and made me a widow at the age of seventy-eight.

Though I am gradually becoming acquainted with my new normal, the feeling of doing life without my sweet husband often brings me to tears. Sometimes the tears move me to periods of depression, and I wonder how I might survive such feelings of abandonment.

Yes, I know I have Jesus and his incredible love but tell that to me when I’m trying to make decisions alone or plowing through impossible financial situations. Don’t even get me started on multiple passwords, websites and other technical issues. Until he became too ill to continue, Charlie handled all financial decisions and household maintenance.

At the first signs of dementia, he realized his limitations and begged for my help. He had more confidence in my abilities than I did. Eventually, I assumed all financial responsibilities—financial planner, tax consultant, check book balancer, you name it! Though difficult, I still had the former expert by my side. Just having him there to discuss the issues gave me the confidence I needed to tackle the problems. Now there is no one.

Today, I tried to set up an online account with his annuity. Even with a representative helping me, the website refused to cooperate. I eventually gave up and asked for forms to be mailed. Charlie would have liked that better anyway. He didn’t trust anything but a piece of paper he could hold in his hands.

During the last few years, we were confined to our home. He rarely ventured out and I wasn’t comfortable leaving him alone. My favorite time was in the evenings when we watched movies together. We didn’t like the same kinds of movies but he never complained about my choice of Rom-Com.

“Didn’t we just see that movie last night?” he’d ask.

“No, it says it’s a season premier.”

“Well, they all sound alike to me.”

Such special times–he loved to tease me. He claimed he passed up a lot of Virginia apples for a Georgia peach. He also claimed he rescued me from South Georgia and put shoes on my feet. I still love to go barefoot.

When he first got sick, I often resented my new role of complete caregiver. It wasn’t easy and I had to pray constantly. I missed going to church and the fellowship of friends. But one day I remembered how Jesus taught his disciples to be servants by washing their feet.

Almost overnight my attitude changed. How blessed I had become when I accepted the attitude of a servant’s heart. The next time he apologized for his helplessness, I answered with joy. “It is my pleasure to serve you.” And I meant every word.

Before Charlie passed away, we had talked about moving to a smaller house with less maintenance. But Charlie said he didn’t want to move. Looking back, I know he would have hated the process. Just the thought of his 3,000 VHS tapes going to charity, along with much of our furniture would have been too much for him to handle.

Yet my longing to downsize did not leave with him. Only a few months after his death, I called a trusted realtor and got the ball rolling. Downsizing wasn’t easy, but thanks to the support of my realtor, children and friends, I sold the larger home and moved into a condominium in the same area. Yes, I know what the experts recommend. No major decisions within the first year after losing a spouse. Regardless, I felt confident to move ahead.

When I look back on this year of change, I realize something major. Through every decision, trial, depression and loneliness, I felt God carrying me. His Holy Spirit surrounds me, consulting, guiding, encouraging and loving. At some of my darkest moments the telephone rings. “How are you, Claudette. I was just praying for you.” God never stopped filling the minds and hearts of friends and family. Telephone calls, text messages, Life Group and Juliets were all collaborating with the Holy Spirit to bring my much-needed comfort and peace.

Not only has God carried me in his loving arms, but he gave me a longing to be in his presence. My morning devotions are awesome. The more I learn of his character and lean into him, the more I trust him with every detail of my life. I don’t need to know what the future holds, I just need to remember that at my darkest moments, he shelters me within the safety of his tender care.

If you are also struggling with loneliness and the pain of loss, abandonment or rejection. I encourage you to not hide behind the walls of your home but seek the fellowship of friends and relatives. And don’t be ashamed to ask for help. Find a safe place to share your concerns and unburden your heart. But most of all, seek the friendship and presence of the one who knows you, loves you and truly cares.