It’s May 2025, and I’m just home from my fourth time with the Willows. I was invited to join this group a few months ago, but at the time I was already involved in two other small groups and, truthfully, I had to get over the idea of being part of a widows group.

The Willows grew out of a grief group at our local hospice organization, HopeWest.  What began as a couple of people going to dinner outside of group has become a circle of a dozen or so widows (and one token widower). We meet every Wednesday evening for potluck dinner, taking turns hosting. Because really, why eat alone when we can eat together?

HopeWest chaplain Kevin Watt has a special place in the hearts of many Willows. He leads the grief group that the Willows came from and has been a steady encourager in our journeys through grief. Amy’s house, where we mainly meet, has a backyard pool with inflatable flamingos. One of them has been dubbed “Kevin,” and we even tucked a little Kevin into a gift basket as a funny tribute and acknowledgment of the valuable insight, support and encouragement that he and the other chaplains provide. 

I keep thanking God for these women (and Jay) who talk like I do, with plenty of f-bombs, raucous laughter and honest questions about life now. One minute we’re talking about Social Security widow benefits or financial planning, the next about good concerts to catch or the hardest parts of being alone.

No one here gives you the platitudes or awkward one-liners about loss. We recognize each other’s “yuck days”—the birthdays, anniversaries and death dates. We talk about our partners, the things we loved and the habits that drove us crazy. In this club, you can say the profound and the slightly inappropriate, because they get it and they know that you get it as well. 

It’s safe. 

We help each other because we know that at times there isn’t anyone else. We do the things others might not think of or simply can’t do to the extent that we need. In some ways, we do the extra things that, in all honesty, maybe our partners didn’t even do, because we understand how deep the need can run in this season of wandering.

One night I found myself gabbing away with women before looking up at the clock and realizing it was after 10 p.m. It took me back 30 years to my women’s Bible study on Monday nights when most would head home, but a few of us hung around. That’s when the real stories surfaced. Vulnerability at its core. 

It’s a sacred space. We are doing life together in a way that’s completely different from what we’re used to, and nothing like what we expected, but it’s still beautiful all the same. Being surrounded by people who understand you is powerful. I am so grateful for these friends, and I’m also excited to meet them at a winery, then go dance to a great local band. 

One evening this summer, the 34-year-old daughter of one member joined us for a meal. She is also a widow, far sooner than anyone should be, and she fit right in. Somehow, we started talking about dating apps. Before we knew it, we were getting “schooled” in the lingo and “code.” Did you know “Netflix and chill” does not mean watch a movie and relax together? We laughed so hard that night.

We’ve now entered the season where a few members have a new special someone. It has been lovely to meet these people as they enter the story. Everyone is mindful of each other’s feelings (or gets a gentle reminder), and we talk openly about our unique but shared experiences of grief.

This is not a club anyone hopes to join, but I thank God it exists. These are remarkable humans who care deeply and keep teaching me how to love well, to simply “be with” when life is hard, and how to offer grace and respect amid their own struggles.

The Willows has shown each of us the true value of community and connection. There’s nothing magical about it. It’s words of love, long hugs and presence—along with lots of laughter.

The Willows is not just a widows group. Like the willow tree, we have grown deep roots, searching for what nourishes our souls. We have learned to stand tall and strong. When storms come and the winds howl, we may bend, but we do not break. We lean in and we hold on tight. 

If you’re struggling to cope with grief during the holidays, HopeWest offers support to anyone in the community. 
To learn more about these low- to-no cost support services, contact HopeWest at 970-257-2390 or visit HopeWestCares.org/holidaygrief
You can also find our list of Mesa, Montrose & Delta County grief support groups by clicking here

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