Hello, friend. I’m so glad you’re here — and I’m truly sorry that the path of widowhood is what brought you to this place.
My name is Joan Reilly, and like many of you, I did not choose this journey. I became a widow after a beautiful 40-year marriage to my husband, Ron, who passed away on January 1, 2021, after living with Cerebellar Degeneration Ataxia. Loving him and caring for him through illness was one of the greatest honors of my life and losing him was the deepest heartbreak I have ever known.
Widowhood changes everything. It changes how we see the future, how we see ourselves, and how we move through ordinary days that no longer feel ordinary at all. There were moments when I wondered who I was without the life we had built together — and whether joy, purpose, or peace would ever feel real again.
But in the middle of my grief, God met me. Not with quick fixes or easy answers, but with steady presence, quiet strength, and gentle reminders that my story was not over. Slowly, I began to see that even though I was broken, I was still me — still loved, still needed, still called to live.
Out of that season was born my heart for widows and my desire to walk alongside others who are learning how to live again after loss. I began writing devotionals and reflections as a way to process my own grief, and soon realized God was using those words to encourage other hearts too. That led to my first 52-week devotional, Broken But Still Me, written especially for those navigating life after the death of a spouse.
Hope After Widowhood is an extension of that same heart. This blog is a place for honest faith, gentle encouragement, and reminders that even in sorrow, God is still working, still healing, and still leading us forward — one small step at a time. Here you’ll find weekly devotionals, daily words of encouragement, Scripture, prayers, and reflections written for widows who need to know they are not alone.
If you are early in your grief, I want you to know that you don’t have to rush healing. If you are further along, I hope you’ll find renewed strength and purpose. And if you ever feel forgotten, unseen, or unsure of what comes next — I pray you will sense God’s nearness here.
My hope is that as you read, you’ll begin to believe again that your life still matters, your heart can still heal, and your future still holds meaning — even if it looks very different than you once imagined.
Thank you for being here. It is an honor to walk this road with you.
With compassion and hope,
Joan Reilly