Young Widow, Broken Heart
Guest Blog: Iris Bryant shares how bringing comfort to others can help us heal from our own pain.
I always cry at graduations. My brother’s graduation would be no exception. Although everything about that day felt different.
Because it was.
When I walked into the university’s performing arts center, a feeling of sadness enveloped me. I had anticipated this milestone in my brother’s life for several years. His dream of completing divinity school was being realized, and I longed to display the excitement that the evening deserved.
But, the harsh reality was . . . seventeen days earlier I had become a widow.
My new title and the absence of the love of my life robbed me of excitement and left me sad and overwhelmed during my first outing since David’s funeral.
I wanted to act jovial and as close to normal as possible, but the feeling in the pit of my stomach indicated this might not be possible.
Would I ever experience normal again?
Sitting in the middle section of the auditorium, I wondered how many other people in the crowd felt as lost and alone as I did at that moment. Did anyone besides my family and friends know that, despite the jubilant atmosphere, I was at that moment wondering when or if my broken heart would ever be whole again?
The ceremony ended, and I followed the crowd outside to the courtyard. Fireworks exploded as graduates celebrated their milestone. While I embraced my brother, I willed the tears to stay hidden—to not betray my smile.
Others gathered to congratulate him and I stepped away from their excitement. A wave of unfamiliar emotions rushed over me. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to express joy in this moment but I was overwhelmed by grief, fear, and a deep sense of isolation.
In the background of my silent screams, there were shouts of excitement as crowds gathered to commemorate the moment with hugs, flowers, balloons, and photos. I felt lost, alone, and scared. These feelings were foreign to me and I wanted to run from it all.
David had been my protector. My source of comfort and safety. I leaned on him during hard times and found stability in his steadiness whenever life’s twists and turns had threatened my footing.
As I bid everyone goodnight and prepared to leave, a relative asked if I was okay. Her simple question released the tears I had been fighting to hide. Through my sobs, I told her how lost I felt and how badly I missed David.
She took my hand, embraced me, and told me she understood everything I had just described. She had lost her husband ten years earlier and knew the pain that was so new and raw to me.
Her love and tenderness in that moment provided a solace that shifted me from a place of despair and isolation to a place of comfort and hope.
I traveled home that night, meditating on 2 Corinthians 1:4 NKJV, “[God] who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.”
While sitting in the auditorium, I wondered if anyone knew the depth of my pain.
Someone did.
God saw my tears. He understood my pain. He loved me enough to answer my heart’s cry through the tenderness of another widow. The love and compassion she demonstrated toward me let me know that I was not alone. Through her quiet testimony, she reminded me that one day, I too would comfort another widow as she had comforted me.
Iris Peterson Bryant hosts the faith-rooted podcast Grieving Well. She is a widow, ministry leader, and grief-informed coach. After the loss of her husband, Iris began a journey to find strength in sorrow and peace in the presence of God. Through heartfelt stories, spiritual encouragement, and honest reflections, her podcast offers comfort for those navigating loss. You may find more help and encouragement at irispbryant.com.