The world didn’t see it coming, and neither did you. When you started hearing talks about the virus becoming a pandemic, never once did you assume it would hit close to home, not your home.

Perhaps your concern was more so for your elderly parents as they were most vulnerable. As the coronavirus spread, those with pre-existing conditions were added to the list. Even if your spouse was diabetic or as healthy as a horse, you never expected he would be among the growing death toll. Not your person, the father of your children, your soul mate…

I cannot imagine the fear that gripped you when you found out he was positive. Maybe his shortness of breath led you to the hospital or one of the other tell-tale signs like a dry cough and fever. Regardless of how he ended up there, you never imagined it would be the last time you held his hand or saw him alive.

I know some of that pain that comes with not being there as your spouse slips from this world. I know the helplessness of not being able to be there to comfort him as he makes the transition. I was almost 2,000 miles away as my husband lay dying. I can’t begin to comprehend the pain of being right there and not being able to get to him. If you were fortunate enough, an iPad or phone screen allowed you a teary goodbye. But it’s not the same. Knowing that you were right there, a car drive away, in the parking lot or another section of the hospital battling the same disease…my heart breaks for that extra layer of pain you carry.

And due to COVID, the man who loved so freely and was so loved by all was denied the send-off he truly deserved. Funerals or memorial services were limited to a select few. You feel robbed again by the virus that has already taken so much.

Many in the widowed community will tell you grief outlasts sympathies. It’s true. But at least most of us had that initial support. Now you’re isolated in your grief due to social distancing. My dear widow sister, I encourage you to reach out – for your own sanity – to a widowed support group. Even virtually, they can be a huge part of your healing. Fight through the sadness, the darkness, the calling to get to him…

There are constant reminders about his death. Facebook is no longer a distraction as your timeline is filled with arguments about the virus; some even daring to call it a hoax. His death is real. Your loss is real. Your children’s grief is real. Your pain is real. Your heartache is real. Your loss is real. That hole in your heart that threatens to consume…it’s so very real. There is no escaping the magnitude of your loss.

You’ll question yourself over and over. You’ll wonder if there is more that you could have done to keep him safe. You’ll replay the last moments he was healthy over and over looking for a sign. Don’t go down the rabbit hole of guilt. The burden is too heavy to walk with, coupled with your grief. As someone once told me, “If love alone could have saved him, he’d be right here with you.” I hope that brings you comfort on the days you search your past for answers.

Self-care is critical during this widow walk. It is long and physically exhausting. Don’t discount the help of a good therapist. You’ve been traumatized. If you’re numb, it’ll wear off and you’ll be left with the reality of your circumstances. Death takes a toll on every aspect of your life, including physically and mentally. There is no shame in seeking help, especially during these troubling times.

Give yourself grace. It’s okay to be angry. It’s okay to unplug from the 24/7 news cycle. It’s okay if some calls go unanswered. It’s okay to lay in bed all day. It’s okay if you haven’t showered. It’s okay if the kids eat cereal for dinner. It’s okay that you’re merely existing.

I can’t tell you when, but one day, your grief won’t feel quite so heavy, though it will always be with you. Yes, your circumstances of how you came to be widowed are unique, but there is a commonality that you’ll find in almost every widow group you’ll find: hope.

With hope, there is healing. With hope, there is knowing that you won’t always feel like giving up. With hope, you’ll know you will come out on the other side of the rawest parts of your grief. With hope, you’ll know widowhood is survivable. With hope, you’ll know there can be life after loss.

Kerry runs a support group for young widows and widowers venturing back into the world of dating and is a contributor to Open to Hope. She is the author of “Letters to the Widowed Community” and “The One Thing: 100 Widows Share Lessons on Love, Loss, and Life.” Her articles on widowhood and grief have been featured in HuffPost and Love What Matters. She’s also the host of the Young, Widowed & Dating podcast.

Disclaimer: Though I do have an affiliate partnership with Circles, I strongly believe we have a shared mission to provide connections and pathways for healing. And, I know the additional benefits that come with being in smaller, more intimate spaces.