My widowhood story began almost 15 years ago when my late wife Tamara was first diagnosed with colorectal cancer. She had been experiencing symptoms for several months, with repeated trips to our family doctor that always ended in some off-the-cuff diagnosis that ultimately turned out to be incorrect. Finally, after insisting on a colonoscopy, we had the answer we hoped NOT to hear. Cancer. 

She had a 14cm tumor by the time of her surgery, and that was after it had shrunk a bit with radiation. Chemo and more radiation followed, then more surgeries, more chemo, brief periods of remission, hopes ultimately dashed by a diagnosis that her cancer was terminal. We were told she’d have about 6 months before a steep decline in her health, and almost to the day, that prognosis came true. 

We went to the Emergency Room one evening in January when she felt too unwell to remain at home, and by the next day we were being told that she likely had only hours left to live. As word spread, more and more family and friends came to the hospital to say their goodbyes. As it turned out, she ended up living for a few more weeks. Fortunately, she was transferred to a hospice about 20 minutes from our home that was the perfect setting for us to say goodbye properly.

The nurses and staff provided exceptional care for her in those final weeks. We were able to have a steady stream of family and friends spend time at her bedside, holding her hand and making sure that she knew she was loved. On her 41st birthday, we gathered around her bedside and quietly sang an emotional rendition of Happy Birthday to her. As I leaned in to kiss her cheek, she said her final words - “thank you.” She died early the next morning with her dad and I by her side, March 16, 2019. And just like that, I became a widower. Our child, a mere 11 years old, was now motherless.

I know now that I went through extensive anticipation grief in the months and even years before her death. You can only go through so many bad news appointments with the doctors before you start seeing the writing on the wall. Looking back, I had the thought that she may not survive the cancer on the day we got the initial diagnosis. I held out hope for as long as I could, but eventually the realization that I’d be widowed in my mid-forties became my expected future reality. 

I promised myself I wouldn’t start dating or even think about looking until the calendar had flipped to the new year. I wanted to make sure that I respected her memory, and didn’t even want a whisper that I was out there flirting with women within a few short months of Tam’s passing. In January I decided that I’d wait until Valentine’s Day had passed. I knew I wasn’t ready to navigate a romantic holiday with someone new just yet. I set my sights at just getting through a few first dates with my dignity intact. 

It had been 20 years since I’d gone on that last first date with Tamara. We’d met at work, before smartphones and dating apps were even a thing. Dating has changed big time since then, with hookup culture rampant, red pill ideology poisoning the minds of men, and dating strategies like the burnt haystack becoming popular among women as a way to combat the absolute rubbish they come across on dating apps and in everyday life. I felt in over my head the more I learned, so I decided to learn everything I could. I poured over reddit posts in the r/dating subs, watched dating & relationship content on social media, and spent a lot of time doing deep reflection on what I needed to do to be ready for those first few dates.

With time, I began to feel ready. I downloaded Bumble first, because I liked the idea that the woman could make the first move. I wanted to tiptoe into things, and it felt safe to use an app where I know there’s at least some level of interest on the woman’s part before we even got to chatting. I swiped (a LOT) and saw a LOT of women who seemed wonderful. However, I didn’t want just any woman, I wanted someone who ticked all the boxes, as they say. If we didn’t seem like a match, I swiped left. If I did swipe right, it was because I thought there was a legitimate chance things could work out between us from what I could tell from her profile.

I chatted with a good number of women, went on a handful of first dates, then met a woman who was also widowed. We had a lot of other things in common, mutual attraction, and very similar goals and values. It felt like I found the one. We dated for about a month, then took a break for several weeks. In spite of the attraction, my body wasn’t cooperating. Things that should arise had not arisen, if you catch my drift. I was still grieving, and clearly not ready to be in a relationship yet. 

I took the time apart to get back to deep reflection. I went to my urologist, I got a vasectomy, and I booked a trip to Amsterdam to go on a psychedelic retreat. I meditated, I exercised, and I focused on myself. I addressed some concrete things I’d overlooked around the house, did some decluttering, and tried to get every aspect of my life up to snuff before I tried to rekindle things with her.

When Tamara had initially been given the terminal diagnosis, we looked into psychedelic therapy for her. We’d heard that it could be immensely helpful to address death anxiety, but unfortunately, she became too ill to travel before we could book anything. I however, could fly to the other side of the world to see if psychedelics could help me conquer the hidden grief that I didn’t know how to find or address. I booked my trip about 8 weeks out in early June, as a bit of a birthday gift for myself. 

I reached out to the woman I had been seeing after a break of about 3 weeks. We talked a bit, and agreed to meet for lunch. It went well, sparks flew, and we agreed to give it another shot. When we hit the bedroom again, my anxiety tried to take over. This time though, I was able to relax enough to let my equipment work as intended. Things were not all smooth sailing from that point on, however. We ultimately called it off at about the 9 month mark. 

And it’s a damn good thing we did, because a few months later, I met Sara. On reddit of all places. I figured I wasn’t having great luck on the apps, so might as well try something unorthodox. I found a local redditor 4 redditor sub, and made a post. I could be a lot more detailed than dating apps allowed, and wrote a thoughtful, honest post about who I was and who I was hoping to find. A beautiful woman named Sara responded the next morning with a thoughtful reply, and I was smitten. Almost 4 years later, we live together and are madly in love. Sara IS the one. 

At about the 3 month mark of our relationship, I started a tiktok channel. I wanted to share my journey as a widower who was having a go at it on the dating scene, sharing stories and things I’ve learned along the way. I wanted to help other widowed people who are in a similar boat, because I knew there was no guidebook out there. At least not that I’d come across. 

One of my early posts was a reflective post about losing Tamara to cancer, and it blew up. Viral, as they say. Almost 2 million people saw that video, and comments from other widowed people were coming in faster than I could read them. I was floored - I had no idea so many widowed people were on tiktok. Thousands upon thousands of widows and widowers thanked me for sharing my post and being so vulnerable. They felt heard and validated. By this point, I had already helped more people with my tiktok channel than I could have ever imagined. 

It’s coming up on the 2 year anniversary of that post, and I’ve decided to level up big time. I realized that I could be doing so much more to help widowed people, and decided that I’d start a community. The name We The Widowed came to me as I was chatting with Sara about the idea one night, and I knew in that moment that I had to get to work. Since that day, I’ve spent over a month behind the scenes, building the website that you’re now reading this on - all while working my 40-hour-a-week day job. 

And it’s finally ready! I am absolutely thrilled that I’ve been able to create this for you - for US! 

WE. THE. WIDOWED.

There’s strength in numbers, as they say! If you want to join an incredibly supportive community of fellow widowed people, we’d love to have you.