Welcome!

As a new widow, I've found that God is a true Father, a faithful Friend, and a deep Comforter. As I've learned to navigate this journey with grace, I've found things that are helpful, practical, and inspiring. That's what I want to pass along to you!

THE LATEST

When It’s Time to Let Go of What They Left Behind

You are here:home/the blog/When Valentine’s Day Finds You in Grief

When Valentine’s Day Finds You in Grief

SHARED BY JANE BURGIO| LEAVE A COMMENT

This site MAY contain affiliate links, meaning I may earn a small commission—at no extra cost to you—if you make a purchase. I only recommend products I truly believe in. Thanks for your support!

If Valentine's Day Feels Heavy, Read This

This is my second Valentine’s Day without Joe.

The first one came so quickly after he died that I barely registered it. I was still in shock. The days blurred together. Survival was the only goal.

This year is different.

I wasn’t thinking about Valentine’s Day at all until I walked into a store last night. Suddenly it was everywhere — hearts, candy, balloons, cards proclaiming forever love. The world was celebrating, and I felt that quiet ache again.

Grief doesn’t disappear just because the calendar flips.

And holidays have a way of finding the tender places.

FREE GUIDE: What to Do After Your Spouse Dies

The Second Valentine’s Day Is Different

The first year, you are numb.

The second year, you are aware.

You know exactly what is missing. You know the rhythms that used to be there — the simple traditions, the shared glance, the private joke. You know what it felt like to be chosen.

And now you are walking through a day that celebrates something you once had — and still cherish — but no longer experience the same way.

That realization can catch you off guard.

If that’s you, let me say something plainly:

Nothing is wrong with you.

You Don’t Have to Celebrate — But You Also Don’t Have to Hide

Valentine’s Day can feel like an either/or:

Either pretend it doesn’t exist.
Or force yourself to “be positive.”

There is a third way.

You can acknowledge the day without being swallowed by it.

You can honor your love story without pretending it isn’t painful.

You can grieve and still move forward.

Scripture reminds us that love itself is sacred:

“Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot sweep it away.” — Song of Solomon 8:7

Death does not erase love.
Time does not cancel it.
The absence does not diminish what was real.

Free Resource: Letting Go Doesn’t Mean Forgetting

This gentle guided journal offers scripture, reflection prompts, and encouragement to help you release what you cannot hold while treasuring the love that endures forever. A safe space to process grief, remember with hope, and take small steps toward healing.

Grace for Grieving Hearts

Called Higher

Surrender in Grief: Giving God What You Don't Understand

God's Mercies are New Every Morning

Practical Ways to Handle Valentine’s Day in Grief

Here are some grounded, doable ideas — not to fix the ache, but to steady your footing:

1. Decide Ahead of Time What the Day Will Be

Don’t let the day ambush you.

Ask yourself:

• Do I want quiet?

• Do I want company?

• Do I want to keep busy?

• Do I want to remember intentionally?

Make a simple plan. Even a small one. Structure reduces emotional whiplash.

2. Limit the Triggers

If the decorations feel like salt in a wound, skip the card aisle. Order groceries online. Unfollow the loud romance feeds for a few days.

Guard your heart. That’s not weakness — that’s wisdom.
(Proverbs 4:23)

3. Honor the Love Without Reopening the Wound

Light a candle.
Look at a photo.
Write him a short note.
Thank God for the years you had.

You are not clinging to the past. You are acknowledging that love mattered.

4. Reframe the Day

Valentine’s Day is about love — not only romance.

Send a card to a grandchild.
Text a friend who’s also walking through loss.
Deliver cookies to a neighbor.

Love did not die. It changed form.

And you still carry it.

5. Give Yourself Permission to Feel Both

You may feel gratitude and grief in the same breath.

You may smile at a memory and cry five minutes later.

That isn’t instability.
That’s love adjusting to absence.

For the Widow Who Feels the Shift This Year

If this second Valentine’s Day feels sharper than the first, it makes sense.

You are no longer in crisis mode.
You are in reality.

And reality has edges.

But hear this: you are not regressing. You are integrating.

You are learning how to carry love and loss at the same time.

And that takes strength.

God does not rush this process.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18

Near.
Not distant.
Not disappointed.
Near.

A Gentle Word of Hope

Valentine’s Day does not define your future.

It does not measure your worth.
It does not determine your story.
It does not close the chapter on love.

It simply marks a day on the calendar.

And you, dear one, are more than a date.

If tomorrow feels heavy, take it one hour at a time.

You don’t need to conquer the day.
You just need to move through it.

Grace for this moment.
Strength for today.
God’s nearness in the in-between.

You are not walking through Valentine’s Day alone.

When the Holidays Hurt

📖 Scriptures for Reflection

• Song of Solomon 8:7
  “Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot sweep it away.”

• Psalm 34:18
  “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

• Isaiah 43:2
  “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you… When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned.”

• Lamentations 3:22–23
  “Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.”

• Romans 8:38–39
  “For I am convinced that neither death nor life… will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Letting Go Doesn't Mean Forgetting

A Prayer for Valentine’s Day in Grief

Father of compassion,

You see the tenderness this day can bring.
You see the memories, the ache, the quiet spaces where someone once stood.

Thank You for the gift of love that was shared —
for laughter remembered, for faithfulness lived out,
for the sacredness of covenant that does not disappear with death.

When the reminders feel sharp, steady our hearts.
When loneliness whispers loudly, speak truth more clearly.
When tears come without warning, hold us without hurry.

Help us carry both gratitude and grief without shame.
Guard our hearts from comparison.
Shield us from bitterness.
Keep us tender, not hardened.

Teach us how to walk forward without feeling that we are leaving love behind.

And remind us again that Your presence fills every space that feels empty.

We entrust this day to You.

Amen.

Looking for More Encouragement?

Everything I write comes from walking this road myself. If you’d like continued encouragement beyond this post, my devotionals are available as companions for the journey.

Share Your Story

Have you found comfort in any daily routines? What’s helping you heal? Share in the comments below—I’d love to hear what habits are helping you in this season, and your experience might give hope to someone else.