Widows do hard things. I do hard things. This weekend I did a hard hard thing; I crossed a half marathon finish line. Whoosh!

They say I need to make new memories and move life forward. They say the way to move life forward is to make new memories. OK.

So I packed myself up, flew to Page, Arizona with my Kbear and Littlebears and dear friend. We met my parents to make a new memory. Oh… I made a close-to-Heaven memory. Jeepers! Absolutely beautiful in every way. And oh so hard.

But there is a hardest hard thing. While the girls and all the racers are texting woohoos and photos of scenery and triumph, I am not. I reach for my phone, I pull up the text app, I freeze. My cheerleader isn’t home anymore.

At least I have boys. Two of them. Two boys back home who know I’m doing a hard thing. As I empty the rocks from my shoes, they call. “How’d you do, mom? How do you feel?” I empty the rocks from my throat and say, “I feel so thankful that you called.”

It’s true, I am grateful for the new memory and for the ones who shared it with me. I am so grateful for these boys who know the hard, cheer me on, and help me move forward. They make the hard a little less hard. Thank you God, for our amazing sons.