5 Reasons to have a pen pal …. When You’re A Widow

The world feels different when you've lost your spouse or partner. It's a 'different' that can't be explained unless you know. But where do you find that someone who does know?

People have been writing to one another since they were able to. Long before emails and text messages became the default, handwritten letters were how people stayed connected.

There is something deeply comforting about sending and receiving letters, knowing that your words will be held and read by another person.

For the sender there is a blank page that has the potential to share so much and conjures up endless possibilities. The impact those words may have to its recipient could lift them up in ways that will never be truly known.

For the receiver there is the quiet excitement of receiving a handwritten letter. In those pages a shared story gets told from someone who was once a stranger. There may be secrets disclosed, worries divulged, and smiles revealed through the power of writing.

But what if you’ve lost a spouse or a partner, why might a pen pal be especially important? And how can you find one safely when you’re already feeling vulnerable.

Why should you find a pen pal when you’re grieving.

Let’s start with the positives.

1. Connection (when loneliness feels relentless)

I don’t particularly like the term widow, but for ease I’ll use it here. I never married my partner, but we were committed to each other as if we were. There isn’t a neat word to describe someone like me as I’m not technically a widow, so what do I call myself? When I write I usually say I’ve have lost my life partner. But for simplicity I’ll use widow and this will include anyone who has lost a spouse or life partner.

When you become a widow, a part of you disappears. You were joined with your person. They were your best friend, knew your likes and dislikes, the everyday details of who you are. They knew exactly how you liked your coffee, what made you laugh, and what kept you awake at night. Without them, you’re left having to work out who you are again.

Even now, ten months on, I still have moments where I think ‘I must tell Paul’. Then I have to remind myself that he’s gone.

Life can feel unbearably lonely as a widow. People send kind messages, but living with grief every day is exhausting. The truth is, the only people who truly understand that are those who are living it too. Widows.

A pen pal offers a gently form of connection. It doesn’t demand energy you don’t have, but it reminds you that you’re not alone.

2. No explanation required (You’re already understood)

When you meet someone new, there’s often a need to explain your situation. Sometimes it’s necessary, but the majority of times it isn’t and it’s just tiring.

For years I had the same man treat my lawn. He’d message ahead, I’d leave the gate unlocked, and that was that. A couple of weeks after Paul died, he messaged to say he’d be coming round on Tuesday. With a head full of funerals, paperwork and grief fog I unlocked the gate on Monday instead. By Tuesday the gate was locked again. I apologised and explained what had happened.

A few months after, he decided to retire and a new lawn man took over. This is no big deal in a normal world. But in my world it sent me into a complete spin. The thought of having to explain why my brain sometimes works and sometimes doesn’t was overwhelming.

Thankfully, I have an incredible neighbour who lost her husband 11 years ago. She understood immediately and quietly explained my situation for me.

It’s not that he needed to know, but sometimes it is useful that they do know.

When you’re talking to another widow, there is so much that you don’t need to explain. You don’t have to justify why you still sleep on the same side of the bed, or why their jumper is now your favourite, or why you study photos so intensely because you’re scared of forgetting their face.

I don’t want others to understand these things, because that means they know this pain. But with a fellow widow, the understanding is already there.

3. Something nice in the post (that isn’t admin)

Ten months in, and I’m still receiving post linked to the dreaded and compulsory ‘sadmin’. Letters asking for decisions. Forms to complete. Bills and reminders which now rest on your shoulders.

Even the postman (who is genuinely lovely) fills me with dread as I watch him walk up my drive with a stack of official looking envelopes. HMRC letters, insurance decisions, things I never wanted to think about.

The last ‘nice’ post (aside from my American pen pal) was Christmas cards. Ungrateful as it may sound, many did end up in the bin. A thoughtful handwritten note acknowledging how hard the season might be was often the deciding factor.

A pen pal letter gives you a respite from that. It’s different. It’s something to look forward to. A reason to make a coffee, grab a biscuit, and sit quietly with words that understand you.

You get to see that you are not alone in this journey, someone else whom you’ve never met gets it too.

When I know a letter is due, I actually look forward to seeing the postman.

4. You don’t have to be the loudest voice

When I first found myself in this new and awful reality, I turned to social media to try and find ‘my tribe’. Like many widows I needed hope, proof that life could still hold some peace.

What I quickly learned is that I’m not the loudest person in the room. Posting in large groups filled me with anxiety. What if I got negative comments? What if people thought I was silly? I also struggle with grief imposter syndrome because Paul and I weren’t married. I know logically that grief is grief.

I’ve even been to in-person groups and still have those very same doubts. What if people don’t like me, think I’m silly, think I’m too quiet, and think my grief is any less simply because I have a ridiculous thought about my marital status, or lack of it.

With a pen pal, you don’t have to compete for space. You don’t need to be confident, outspoken, or brave in front of a crowd. You simply write. And everyone has a story worth sharing, whether they realise it or not.

5. Writing as a gentle way to process grief

Nothing can truly heal grief. It becomes a part of us, woven into who we are and who we will always be. But when you start writing something shifts.

Thoughts that are constantly going around in our head have a place to go. Sometimes we discover feelings we didn’t even realise were there. That’s the power of writing.

Over the past ten months writing has brought me enormous comfort. I wrote my late partners memoirs because I was afraid our stories would disappear.

I wrote letters and postcards to him telling him about everyday life.

From that this publication was born.

And alongside it all, there are the pen pal letters.

Writing helps make sense of what doesn’t make sense. And that’s why it can be such a gentle support while grieving.

So, what about joining a pen pal club?

You might be wondering - are they safe? How do they match people? Will I have to explain my situation?

The good news is that there is a pen pal club created specifically for women who have lost their spouse or life partner.

Letters After Loss was created by a widow - that’s me. The concerns you have, I have too. Widows are strong, but we are also vulnerable, and sadly there are people who take advantage of that.

There are clear rules and safeguards in place to ensure everyone feels safe, respected, and understood. This is a women-only space, created for companionship. It’s not fixing, not dating, and not explaining your grief.

If you’re ready to gently dust off your letter writing kit, Letters After Loss offers a quiet, meaningful way to connect with someone who understands.

You don’t have to be loud. You don’t have to explain. You just have to be you.