Dear Beautiful Widow Friends,
Yesterday, I shared on Instagram about my gray hair—and today, I want to go a little deeper with you here.
I’ve decided to grow out my gray. And let me tell you, it’s taking forever. When I say forever it feels like time stopped. LOL

I’m someone who, when I decide something, I want it done now. Like Veruca Salt in Willy Wonka: “I want the golden goose, and I want it now!” Except for me, it’s more like, “I want my gray hair, and I want it now!”

A few months in, I started rethinking it. The in-between stage feels messy. Disheveled. Not me. If you know me at all, you know I like to show up as my best self. This grow-out process doesn’t feel like my best self—it feels undone. Unkept.

But here’s where it hit me: This is just like grief.
The frustration, the confusion, the not recognizing yourself in the mirror anymore. After spending over 40 years with someone, I was a defined person: Gina Sevey—wife, mother, singer, coach, Jesus lover. After Lew died, part of me died with him. That version of me—I’ve been clinging to her, trying to keep her alive. But just like the gray hair, the change is happening whether I like it or not. Slowly. Imperfectly. Messily. I can’t cover it up with root color expecting to not ever see it again. JUST like our grief. There is no covering it up…. there is only walking with it.

And it makes me ask: If I move forward, am I leaving him behind? Am I letting go of our love by letting life keep moving? Yet, I don’t feel like I am leaving him behind IF, I am walking with it. He is with me every step of the way. NOT how I had planned it at all, but none the less this is US.

This journey—like this painful graying process—is just that. A process. We don’t have to rush it. We don’t have to force it to look polished before it’s ready. We can walk with our grief and let it unfold, one moment at a time.

I don’t write these letters to slap a silver lining on your pain. Your loss is real. Mine is too. But I do believe that paying attention to our thoughts—becoming aware of the stories we tell ourselves—can open the door to a little bit of hope.

Time isn’t the healer. Presence is.

Let your grief be where it is today. Let the waves come. Let the confusion come. And know that you aren’t broken or lost. You may be wandering. You may be hiding. And that, my friend, is okay.
You’re not doing it wrong. You’re simply in process.
Love you deeply,
Gina

Below is the zoom link for you to join our sessions… Don’t be afraid to show up and dip your toe into community. I can’t wait to see you and meet you!