After my ex-husband died, I wasn’t sure how I’d find my footing again. There’s no easy guidebook for how to rebuild your life after that kind of loss. What helped most—more than anything else—was community.

Some friends showed up in steady, powerful ways. They checked in. They helped with practical things. They made space for my grief and reminded me, over and over, that I wasn’t alone. I’ll never forget the people who stood beside me in that season—without needing me to be okay, or to move on quickly. That kind of friendship is a lifeline. It’s one of the most powerful forces in the world.

But not everyone stayed. As they say, grief changes your address book. And it’s true. I lost friendships I thought would last forever. People didn’t know what to say. Some pulled away, others disappeared completely. I was gutted to realize that certain longtime friends no longer felt like safe places. That kind of loss—on top of the grief I was already carrying—was heartbreaking.

And yet, in the space left behind, I did the hard, necessary work of building new connections. It wasn’t instant. It took effort, vulnerability, and trial and error. But one of the most important turning points came when I joined a local group of professional moms, which happened to have a subgroup for solo moms. That group changed everything.

For the first time, I felt like I could really process my divorce and my new reality as a solo parent—with people who understood it on a deep, personal level. These women got it. The exhaustion, the juggling, the tiny wins, the big fears. There was no need to explain or sugarcoat. The conversations were honest, raw, funny, and supportive. I didn’t feel alone in my experience anymore—and that was such a relief.

Being part of a community that truly sees you is transformative. It’s not just about having company on a Saturday night. It’s about having people you can text at 8 p.m. when your kid is melting down and you’re at the end of your rope. It’s about knowing someone will remember your court date, or the anniversary of your loss, or bring snacks to the park when you’ve forgotten them. It’s about being known and accepted in the life you’re actually living—not the one others imagine you should have.

That sense of belonging has grown beyond that group. I’ve also found connection in my Unitarian Universalist congregation. What I love most is how simple and welcoming the opportunities for engagement are—and how truly enriching they’ve become. We recently went on a weekend retreat that was not only fun and relaxing but helped me deepen relationships with people I might have only known in passing before. There are game nights, dumpling-making nights, movie nights, and so many other low-stakes, high-reward ways to get involved. It’s easy to feel like you belong when the community consistently makes space for you to show up as you are. I love that my daughter is growing up in this environment, talking comfortably with adults of all ages and seeing firsthand what intentional community looks like.

My work network has also become an unexpected source of friendship. Over the years, some colleagues have become true friends—the kind who cheer me on professionally but also show up personally when things are hard. Work can be an amazing place to meet people, especially when you’re open to connection beyond the day-to-day tasks.

The truth is, friendships come in all shapes and forms. As we get older, they’re harder to form casually—we’re not in school anymore, or showing up to the same activities week after week by default. So we have to be more intentional. Getting exposure to other people regularly through community involvement is one of the best ways to create new connections. It’s not always instant, but it creates the conditions where friendship can grow.

Casting a broad net and being part of multiple communities—whether it’s a parenting group, a congregation, a professional network, or a local club—fortifies you. It gives you strength. These are the people who remind you of who you are, reflect back the progress you’ve made, and walk beside you during the hard and beautiful parts of life.

Community doesn’t replace what’s been lost. But it helps you carry it. It gives you places to rest, people to laugh with, and mirrors to see yourself more clearly. Whether it’s friends from a parenting group, a spiritual home, or professional peers, these relationships make life richer, more manageable, and more meaningful.

You don’t have to be in a romantic relationship to be deeply connected. Sometimes, the most important love stories in your life are the ones that live in group texts, late-night phone calls, and quiet, consistent presence. That kind of friendship is a foundation—and one I’ll never take for granted.