It occurred to me, this widow thing, it runs in the family. Both my grandmas were widows, I think my great grandma was a widow, and my mom became a widow. Now I’m a widow. I’m pretty sure there is a gene passed down, and I inherited it. Never mind that losing a spouse has nothing whatsoever to do with genetics. I am part of a family plagued with widow cancer. The disease has no respect. It doesn’t exclude because of merit or include because of sins. The beast just chomps.

Each woman that I have known in my family history has suffered loss just like me. Each one cried herself to sleep, collapsed in the hole of dysfunction, begged God for relief, and at times, yielded to loneliness and despair. As far as I know, each godly lady was devoted to both Jesus and husband, which connects us to the core. Each one has become a hero to me.

All of them set an unknowing example, walking before me, faithfully trusting Jesus, looking forward to reunion day . Except for my own mom, each one stands beside her God and her man right now in Heaven. I’ll be there before long. I’m coming. I’m walking just as they walked.

A quick Google search turns up statistics citing women more likely to be widowed. Google only confirms it though, because church parking lot slots, slot after slot, of single women’s cars, prove it. The wild thing is, a few recent losses around me evidence it in my own life. It almost feels like an epidemic. But then, my antennae has never been so tuned in.

My mom reminded me: “Kath, even Mary, Jesus’ mom, was a widow.” Oh. That’s right. Even she, chosen among women, walked this road. The Bible calls her “favored woman” and adds a promise, “the Lord is with you” (Luke 1:28). She endured unthinkable pain of her own. God loved her, favored her, helped her all the way home.

I must be suffering from a severe case of widowitis. The bad news is, there is no cure. The good news is, I’m among a family, no an entire world history, of favored women. And Jesus is with us.