Recently, I had to fill out some forms online. The current marital status box was like a neon sign: Single, Married, Divorced, or Widowed.

Throughout my life, I have been 3 out of the 4: single, married, and now widowed. There was no emotion when checking single or married. But I had a visceral response in checking the widow box. Like an itchy sweater, it made me uncomfortable.

For the first two years after my husband suddenly died, I didn't consider myself a widow. I still wore my wedding ring. There was something about calling myself a widow. I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it yet.

As I studied the grief process and became more familiar with the changes the death of a spouse brings, one significant change is the sense of who you are. Your identity as a married person suddenly changes. It’s a secondary loss. Who am I now? There’s a gradual sense of doing life so dramatically different, and over time, our self-image is recalibrated.

We are so much more than a word with a checked box next to it. According to the dictionary, a widow is a woman “who has lost her spouse by death and has not married again.” It describes an event that happened to us, not who we are. The word “widow” is not a complete definition of who we are. We are not victims or less than. We are still women who love, nurture, teach, give, and serve our families and friends.

Before we were married, we were daughters first—not just to the families we were born into, but to our Heavenly Father. Our identity is not in our loss, not in what has happened to us, but in Who we belong to. We are loved, seen, heard, known, and beloved. We are not just a widow, but a woman who is lavishly loved, tenderly cared for, favored, and cherished by the God who calls us His own.

‘‘Grateful Yet Grieving’’

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On a recent flight home from a conference, I watched the original “Karate Kid” movie. It took me down memory lane in a scene where the main character, Daniel, is at a roller rink with his girlfriend. When I was in high school, I would go to the roller rink with some friends every Saturday afternoon. We would skate when the neon sign said, “All Skate,” and sit on the bench when it said, “Couples Only.”

Being a widow takes us out of the Couples Only category. Part of the grief journey when you lose your spouse is the loss of identity of being part of a couple. There is a radical change in how you see yourself. You were seen as a couple by others, and so, of course, you saw yourself as a unit. Like going from the carpool lane to the single lane, it means we steer in a different direction.

Our identity change as a single person doesn’t happen overnight. And there will be a wave of emotions to go along with the process. When I see couples at a restaurant or at the store, I sense a deep longing for what I no longer have; envy and anger sprout up. We are human and hurting. When we are no longer invited to join the couple's events at church. It cuts deep. Our loss is magnified under the lens of a couple's world.

When I googled the percentage of widowed women, approximately 69% to 87% of women aged 65 and older are widowed. We are definitely not alone. New connections with other women are vital as we forge our new identity. Something special happens when we share a meal or connect with someone who is on the grief journey. Last weekend, I enjoyed a dance performance and a lovely meal with three friends who have each lost their spouse. We applauded, laughed, and ate together. As I went to bed that night, I had a deep sense of gratitude.

We will always miss our spouse and the life we once had. Amidst the loss, there is also the opportunity to discover what remains. We can be grateful for what we still have and discover a different life knowing we are not alone.