Learning To Breathe Again - Christian Grief Support

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Some things in life take your breath away, and not because they are beautiful.
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Sometimes it's the phone call you never expected, the goodbye you weren't ready for, the relationship that ended, the betrayal that changed you, the dream that died quietly, or the moment you realized the life you knew would never be the same again.
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But friend, if you are still here, there is still breath in your body, purpose in your life, and a story your soul has not finished telling.
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Welcome to the Soul of a Woman Speaks, a sacred space for honest conversations about love, loss, healing, and the lessons we gather from the places that almost broke us.
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I'm Dr.
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Patricia Shaw, and this season we are learning to breathe again after love, loss, and life-changing pain.
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So come close.
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Put down the need to be strong for everybody else.
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You don't have to pretend here.
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Take a breath and let your soul speak.
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There are moments in life that divide everything into before and after.
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Before the phone call, before the diagnosis, before the betrayal, before the goodbye, before the moment you realize that the life you knew would never look quite the same again.
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You don't get a warning.
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You don't get time to prepare your heart.
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Life simply happens, and suddenly the woman you were yesterday is standing at the doorway of a life she never imagined she would have to live.
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For me, that moment came on November the 8th of 2025.
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That was the day I lost my husband, the man I had loved for 36 years, my husband Michael.
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And when he took his final breath, it felt as though something inside of me stopped breathing too.
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I don't say that figuratively.
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You wake up the next morning, and for a few seconds your mind hasn't remembered yet.
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Then it does.
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And you have to learn the truth all over again.
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He's gone.
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Your life has changed.
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And somehow you are still here.
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The morning that changed everything.
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Michael and I were in Memphis attending the Church of God in Christ's holy convocation.
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That morning, sometime in the early hours, I realized something was terribly wrong.
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It was, as a matter of fact, it was two something.
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It was 10 to 2.
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My husband wasn't breathing.
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And suddenly there was no time to think.
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No time to process.
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No time to cry.
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I called 911 and I began performing CPR on my husband.
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I've thought about those moments many times since.
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Hands that had served beside him.
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Hands that had helped build a life, a family, a ministry, and 36 years of memories, precious memories.
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And now those same hands were pressing against his chest.
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Trying desperately to keep him here.
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Trying to make his breath return.
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Trying to make one more morning possible.
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There are moments your mind may eventually soften around.
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But your body remembers.
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My hands remember.
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My heart remembers.
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And my breath remembers.
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I remember calling for help.
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I remember running downstairs to the front desk, but there was no one on duty.
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Not a security guard, not a clerk, no one.
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Just me and the 911 caller on the other line.
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I remember.
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I remember doing everything I knew to do.
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I remember wanting somebody, anybody, to do something, fix something, change something.
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I remember the helplessness I felt.
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And I remember learning in the cruelest possible way that love can be enormous and still not be able to control an outcome.
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I loved that man, but love could not make his lungs breathe.
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Love could not make his heart keep beating.
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Love could not bargain for another thirty-six years.
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Not even another thirty-six seconds.
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The life I had lived with my goal, and the life I would now have to learn how to live without his physical presence.
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Thirty-six years doesn't disappear in a morning.
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I wasn't just losing my husband.
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I was losing the man who had witnessed most of my adult life.
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Thirty-six years.
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That's a lot of living.
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That's children, family, church, ministry, responsibilities, bills, dreams, disappointments, celebrations, ordinary mornings, late-night conversations, inside jokes that nobody else understands.
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Things you fussed about that suddenly seemed like they never mattered at all.
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Plan you thought you still had time to make.
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Places you thought you would go.
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Milestones you assumed you'd experience together.
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Sometimes it's words, sometimes it's a look.
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Sometimes it's silence.
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Sometimes you don't even have to explain yourself because they already know.
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And then one person is gone.
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And the other person becomes the keeper of all those memories.
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Suddenly, I was carrying both sides of conversations nobody else heard.
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Both sides of memories nobody else shared.
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Quite the same way.
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I wasn't only grieving Michael, I was grieving us.
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And in many ways, I was grieving the woman I was with him.
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Then came the word I never wanted to hear.
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Widow.
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I had prayed for widows, ministered to widows, comforted grieving women and families.
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But knowing what a word means, and suddenly having that word attached to your own life are two very different things.
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One day I was a wife.
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And then I was a widow.
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And people can tell you all kinds of things about grief.
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Yes, they can.
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They can tell you, girl, you'll be alright.
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They can tell you God is going to keep you, sis.
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They can tell you, He's in a better place.
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And if you are a woman of faith, you may believe every one of those things, which I do.
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But believing something spiritually does not remove what you experience emotionally.
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No, it doesn't.
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I still hurt.
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I still cried.
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And I still had to wake up in the morning and figure out how to live a life that didn't resemble the one I had gone to sleep expecting.
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I had to learn how to breathe.
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People talk about getting through the day, but there were times when thinking about a whole day was too much.
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A whole week.
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Absolutely not.
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A whole year.
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I couldn't even imagine it.
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Sometimes healing look smaller than that.
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Girl, get out of bed.
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Take a shower.
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Answer one phone call.
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Handle one responsibility.
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Eat something.
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Pray if you can.
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Cry if you need to.
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Take the next breath.
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And then another.
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And another.
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That's where learning to breathe again came from.
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It's not a catchy title.
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It was my reality.
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Because there were days when breathing felt natural.
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And there were days when grief seemed to sit right in the middle of my chest, and I had to consciously remind myself.
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Breathe, Patricia.
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Just breathe.
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And something began changing in me.
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Not quickly.
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Not dramatically.
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Not in some magical moment where all the pain disappeared.
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No.
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I simply started noticing I'm still here.
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I'm still breathing.
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Yes, my heart is broken, but it's still beating.
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My life changed.
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But my life did not end.
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Those are not the same thing.
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Friend, death tried to take more than my husband.
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Death tried to take my breath.
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It tried to take my joy.
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It tried to convince me that because the life I knew had ended, there was nothing beautiful left ahead of me.
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But I'm discovering something.
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Joy has deeper roots than grief.
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Hope can survive heartbreak.
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And faith can crawl when it no longer has the strength to run.
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And sometimes the bravest thing a grieving woman can say is not I'm healed.
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It's I'm still here.
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Still healing, still discovering what this life looks like now.
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There are memories that still bring tears.
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There are moments that catch me completely off guard.
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There are things I still wish I could tell my friend.
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There are days when the silence is loud.
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But I'm also laughing.
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I'm dreaming.
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I'm creating.
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I'm discovering myself again.
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And I'm learning that wanting to live does not mean I loved him any less.
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Because joy is not betrayal.
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Healing is not forgetting.
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And moving forward does not mean leaving love behind.
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That's a message in itself.
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This podcast is not only about death.
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And I need you to hear this clearly.
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Because death is not the only thing that can knock the breath out of a woman.
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Not at all.
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Maybe nobody died in your story, but something did.
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Maybe your marriage ended.
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Maybe someone you trusted betrayed you.
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Maybe the relationship you thought would last forever fell apart.
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Maybe you lost a parent, a child, a sibling, a friendship.
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Maybe you lost your health, your career, your home, your financial security.
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Maybe the dream you spent years believing for never happened.
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Maybe you woke up one day and realized you didn't recognize the woman in the mirror.
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There are losses that never have funerals.
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There are graves nobody visits.
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There are things women bury quietly and then go right back to work the next morning.
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So when I tell you my story, I don't need you to have lived my story.
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But the eight can feel remarkably familiar.
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Friend, healing is personal.
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One thing this journey has taught me is that grief does not follow rules.
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There is no perfect timeline.
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Not at all.
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No perfect formula.
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No correct amount of tears.
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No moment when someone gets to look at you and say, friend, you should be over that by now.
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No ma'am and no son.
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Healing is personal.
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And I will never tell another woman how long she should grieve.
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I won't tell you when to.
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Clean out the closet.
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When to take off a wedding ring, when to stop crying, when to laugh, when to date, when to dream again.
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I don't believe healing works that way.
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Your journey belongs to you and you alone.
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But I also believe this: healing, being personal, doesn't mean pain gets to hold us indefinitely without being challenged.
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We can honor what happened and still reach toward life.
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We can make room for grief without giving grief the whole house.
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Thank you, Lord.
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We can remember and still become.
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Why I'm opening this part of my life.
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I asked myself whether I really wanted to tell this story publicly.
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There are things that are easier to carry privately.
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There are parts of grief that feel sacred.
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And I'm learning that vulnerability needs boundaries.
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I don't believe I owe the world every detail of my pain.
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But I also know that, uh, but I also know what it feels like to sit in the dark and wonder.
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Has anybody else ever felt like this?
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So I'm opening part of my journal.
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And you all know I love to journal.
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I'm telling the truth about the pieces I believe can help another woman breathe.
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Not because I want you to feel sorry for me, because I don't.
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And not because I believe I figured greed out.
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I haven't.
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Maybe you'll finally find language for an emotion you've been carrying quietly.
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Maybe you will realize you're not strange.
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You're grieving.
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Maybe you'll realize that what happened changed you.
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Like it changed me.
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But it doesn't have to destroy you.
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And maybe somewhere along this season, you'll hear a little hope whisper, I can live again.
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Before we go any further, I want to pray.
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Because one thing I know is that there have been times when prayer was the only place I could put what I was carrying.
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So wherever you're watching, if you can, become still for a moment.
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You may even want to put your hand over your heart.
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You don't have to perform anything.
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You don't have to be strong here.
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Just breathe.
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Let's pray.
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Lord, teach us to breathe again.
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Father, here we are.
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Some of us came carrying pain we've talked about a hundred times.
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And some of us are carrying things we've never been brave enough to say out loud.
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Some of us are tired, some of us are angry, some are confused, some are lonely, and some of us have become so good at smiling that nobody knows how much it hurts underneath.
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But Lord, you know.
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You know exactly where life hurt us.
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You know what happened.
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You know what we lost.
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You know what we wish had gone differently.
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And you know the moments when we've wondered whether we would ever feel like ourselves again.
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Father, meet us here.
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Meet the woman whose life changed with one phone call.
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Meet the woman who had to say goodbye before she was ready.
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Meet the woman whose marriage ended.
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The woman who was betrayed.
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The woman grieving someone she loves.
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The woman grieving a dream.
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The woman grieving the future she thought she would have.
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Meet the woman who can't even name exactly what she lost.
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She just knows something inside of her hasn't felt the same since.
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Lord, teach us how to breathe again.
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Not by pretending it didn't hurt.
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Not by forgetting.
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Not by rushing ourselves into somebody else's definition of healed.
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But teach us to breathe while there are still questions.
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Teach us to breathe through the memories.
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Teach us to breathe through the first, through the birthdays, the anniversaries, the holidays, the empty chairs, the quiet rooms, the nights when sleep doesn't come easily.
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Teach us how to breathe.
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When grief catches us by surprise, when the song comes on, when we see the photograph, when we smell something familiar, when the phone rings, when something wonderful happens, and the first person we want to tell is no longer there.
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Father, remind us that healing is personal.
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Remove the pressure to perform strength.
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Remove the shame attached to our tears.
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Remove the guilt when laughter begins to come back.
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And remind us that joy is not betrayal.
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Peace is not forgetting.
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And moving forward does not mean what we lost did not matter.
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Yes, Lord.
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And living again does not dishonor the love that came before.
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Father, breathe into every place that has gone numb.
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Breathe into our faith.
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Breathe into our confidence.
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Breathe into our destiny.
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Breathe into our identity.
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Breathe into the dreams we stopped dreaming.
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Breathe into the places pain convinced us we're dead.
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And when grief tells us there's nothing left for you.
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Remind us that as long as there is breath in our bodies, yes, you are still writing.
00:32:40.960 --> 00:32:41.839
But you do.
00:32:43.039 --> 00:32:49.039
So meet her, hold her, comfort her.
00:32:50.079 --> 00:33:00.880
And when she can't see the whole road, give her enough light for the next step.
00:33:01.920 --> 00:33:06.400
Enough strength for today.
00:33:07.359 --> 00:33:10.880
Enough grace for today.
00:33:11.839 --> 00:33:16.720
Enough hope and enough courage for this day.
00:33:17.680 --> 00:33:22.880
And enough breath for today.
00:33:23.920 --> 00:33:34.480
And God, help us understand that maybe the goal isn't to become exactly who we were before the pain.
00:33:34.880 --> 00:33:43.839
Maybe healing means allowing you to introduce us to the women we are becoming.
00:33:45.759 --> 00:34:07.680
Yes, wiser, deeper, more compassionate, more intentional, softer in the places that need softness, stronger in the places that need strength.
00:34:08.239 --> 00:34:12.559
Women who understand that life is precious.
00:34:12.960 --> 00:34:18.559
Women who don't apologize for choosing to live it.
00:34:19.440 --> 00:34:28.719
Father, thank you that what broke our hearts did not cancel our purpose.
00:34:29.360 --> 00:34:37.760
Thank you that pain does not have to have the final word.
00:34:39.440 --> 00:34:56.880
Thank you that we are still here, still loved, still called, still becoming, and by your grace we will learn to breathe again.
00:34:57.920 --> 00:34:59.679
In Jesus' name.
00:35:00.320 --> 00:35:00.960
Amen.
00:35:29.840 --> 00:35:39.599
When you've experienced a major loss, you imagine the worst part will be the moment it happens.
00:35:41.119 --> 00:35:45.599
And that moment can absolutely change everything.
00:35:47.679 --> 00:35:53.360
But there is another part nobody really prepares you for.
00:35:55.679 --> 00:36:03.360
Eventually, everybody goes home and the phone rings less often.
00:36:05.760 --> 00:36:07.920
The messages slow down.
00:36:12.320 --> 00:36:15.199
The flowers begin to fade.
00:36:17.039 --> 00:36:30.480
People return to their jobs, their homes, their marriages, their routines, their lives.
00:36:31.760 --> 00:36:37.360
And then you have to return to yours.
00:36:38.800 --> 00:36:44.559
Except yours doesn't feel like the same life anymore.
00:36:50.400 --> 00:36:55.760
That's when I learned something I had never understood before.
00:36:57.440 --> 00:37:00.000
Silence has a sound.
00:37:01.280 --> 00:37:04.719
And sometimes it's deafening.
00:37:05.679 --> 00:37:16.719
When you've shared your life with somebody for years, you don't realize how much sound their presence made.
00:37:17.599 --> 00:37:53.199
The footsteps, the voice, the TV, a conversation from another room, a question, a laugh, a cough, a familiar routine, the little sounds you barely noticed, until you give almost anything to hear them again.
00:37:54.000 --> 00:37:57.280
And that's where we're going next.
00:38:01.199 --> 00:38:05.840
Episode one is when the silence is loud.
00:38:06.800 --> 00:38:21.280
In our first official episode, I want to talk about what happens when everybody goes home and you're left alone with what has changed.
00:38:22.320 --> 00:38:24.239
The quiet house.
00:38:40.719 --> 00:38:46.719
And then realizing that you can't.
00:39:25.360 --> 00:39:31.199
Being alone is not the same thing as being abandoned.
00:39:31.760 --> 00:39:37.119
Because silence can remind you of everything that's missing.
00:39:39.039 --> 00:39:51.360
But if you sit still long enough, sometimes silence begins to reveal what remains.
00:39:52.719 --> 00:40:17.840
Your breath, your voice, your faith, your needs, your future, your own soul, and maybe the whisper of God reminding you, I'm still here.
00:40:19.280 --> 00:40:29.119
So if you've ever been afraid of the quiet, and if you've ever had nighttime, make your grief louder.
00:40:30.559 --> 00:40:41.039
If you've ever found yourself sitting in an empty room wondering how you were supposed to keep going.
00:40:42.960 --> 00:40:45.519
Meet me in episode one.
00:40:47.039 --> 00:40:50.320
We're not going to run from the silence.
00:40:51.519 --> 00:40:53.599
We're going to sit in it.
00:40:54.719 --> 00:40:58.320
We're going to tell the truth about it.
00:40:58.880 --> 00:41:06.719
And eventually we're going to learn how to hear ourselves.
00:41:07.679 --> 00:41:10.960
Breathe inside it.
00:41:19.679 --> 00:41:23.199
And this is the soul of a woman speaks.
00:41:24.559 --> 00:41:35.920
This season we're learning to breathe again after love, loss, and life-changing pain.
00:41:36.880 --> 00:41:40.559
You don't need to come to this journey healed.
00:41:41.280 --> 00:41:44.079
You don't need all the answers.
00:41:45.199 --> 00:41:52.159
You don't even need to know what your next chapter looks like.
00:41:53.199 --> 00:41:55.760
Just bring your story.
00:41:56.559 --> 00:41:58.159
Bring your questions.
00:41:59.119 --> 00:42:00.719
Bring your tears.
00:42:01.440 --> 00:42:06.639
Bring the parts of yourself you're still trying to understand.
00:42:07.679 --> 00:42:12.400
And bring whatever breath you have left.
00:42:13.360 --> 00:42:15.760
Because that's enough.
00:42:16.880 --> 00:42:18.960
That's enough to begin.
00:42:22.400 --> 00:42:23.679
Breathe.
00:42:24.159 --> 00:42:24.800
Sister.
00:42:25.280 --> 00:42:26.320
Breathe.
00:42:26.880 --> 00:42:28.880
Your story isn't over.
00:42:29.519 --> 00:42:34.000
And your soul still has something to say.
00:42:35.440 --> 00:42:37.599
What happened to you was real.
00:42:38.239 --> 00:42:40.480
What you lost mattered.
00:42:40.800 --> 00:42:42.639
What hurt you mattered.
00:42:42.880 --> 00:42:49.519
And you do not have to minimize your pain in order to prove that you have faith.
00:42:49.840 --> 00:42:53.119
But neither does your pain get the final word.
00:42:53.760 --> 00:42:55.440
You are still here.
00:42:55.840 --> 00:43:03.440
And every breath you take is evidence that your story is still being written.
00:43:03.760 --> 00:43:06.800
Healing may not look the way you expect it.
00:43:07.039 --> 00:43:11.199
It may not happen on anybody else's timetable.
00:43:11.760 --> 00:43:22.559
Some days you will take great strides, and other days your victory will simply be getting out of bed and taking the next breath.
00:43:22.800 --> 00:43:24.320
Both count.
00:43:24.639 --> 00:43:26.719
So don't rush yourself.
00:43:26.960 --> 00:43:29.199
Don't compare your healing.
00:43:29.440 --> 00:43:34.559
And don't mistake a difficult day for a defeated life.
00:43:35.199 --> 00:43:36.639
Keep breathing.
00:43:36.960 --> 00:43:38.320
Keep becoming.
00:43:38.800 --> 00:43:45.440
Keep believing that there is still life on the other side of what you lost.
00:43:45.679 --> 00:43:46.480
I'm Dr.
00:43:46.639 --> 00:43:52.960
Patricia Shaw, and this has been The Soul of a Woman Speaks.
00:43:53.280 --> 00:43:58.639
Until we meet again, breathe, sis, breathe.
00:43:59.360 --> 00:44:02.880
And let your soul speak.