Finding strength to get through some days is exhausting. As time goes on, those days get farther apart. You have to give yourself grace and just breathe. Always remember it's a marathon and not a sprint.

I had so many family and friends that were throwing me life jackets and trying to direct me back. I reached for them and they were able to help me maintain a float. But I knew there is only one Savior, one person that could sit me on that rock.

I use my grief and story to try to help others that are struggling and needing a compassionate ear and heart. If I can help just one person see the love God has for them and help ease their pain of their loss; I feel Kirk's death has meaning and a purpose.

For a couple years after Kirk passed, I felt like a stranger within myself. I kept trying to find footing that felt familiar. I was a wife and a mom. Suddenly, I was a widow with a child that lost her father.

As I have met widows and talked with them, the one theme that comes up in conversations is how much the word “widow” is despised. I always agree with them; the word is awful. The word to me sounds so lonely and cold.