There are moments in life that feel larger than the event itself.
Moments where you realize you are standing inside an answered prayer while it is still unfolding around you.
That is how May 16, 2026, felt to me.
Hope Grows Here was never meant to be simply a birthday party. It was never just a fundraiser, a book signing, or a themed celebration. It was created as a living reminder that even after profound loss, life can still hold joy, purpose, community, laughter, and new beginnings.
And somehow, beautifully, all of those things existed in the same room together.
This year, I celebrated my 60th birthday surrounded by family, friends, supporters, widows and widowers, community leaders, fellow advocates, and people who have walked alongside Widowhood Real Talk with Tina from the very beginning. My siblings were there. My children were there. My husband stood beside me. There was something deeply emotional about looking across the room and seeing so many parts of my life gathered together in one space.
For years, much of my work has taken place behind microphones, through screens, in podcasts, in support groups, and in conversations carried digitally across states and countries. But this was different.
This was embodied community.
This was people hugging one another after years of online connection. This was laughter echoing through the room. This was dancing. Costumes. Music. Storytelling. Celebration. Healing. Remembrance. Life.
And yes… there was plenty of fun.
The sixties’ theme brought out bright colors, peace signs, music, playful glasses, dancing, and joy, reminding all of us that healing does not dishonor grief. Sometimes healing looks like movement. Sometimes it looks like tears. Sometimes it looks like standing in a crowded room, realizing you survived what once tried to break you.
One of the most meaningful parts of the evening was raising $5,000 toward the Widowhood Real Talk with Tina educational fund. Every dollar raised helps support educational opportunities and grief-centered initiatives that continue serving widows, widowers, and grieving families. Knowing that support will continue helping others made the night feel even more purposeful.
I was also deeply honored by those who shared their presence and support throughout the event.
Keynote speaker Donna Kendrick brought wisdom, encouragement, and authenticity that resonated deeply throughout the room. Maya Tyler of Widows Do Bounce Back continues to be a meaningful voice within the widowhood community, and her support reminded me once again how powerful collaboration can be among those doing this work with sincerity and heart.
Anthony Jarrard from 501(c)(3), I, and Virginia Beach Councilman Calvern “Cash Green” Jackson-Green Jr. also showed support for the mission and the importance of raising greater awareness of grief, healing, and community care.
I would also be remiss if I did not acknowledge the extraordinary work of my board members. Events like this do not happen through one person alone. They happen because people choose to carry the vision together.
A very special thank you goes to Jerri Newson and Ulanka Beckom for the countless hours of planning, coordination, encouragement, and behind-the-scenes work that helped make Hope Grows Here such a meaningful success. Their dedication, leadership, and commitment to the mission helped create an evening people will remember for a very long time.
And to every single person who contributed their time, creativity, encouragement, energy, and support behind the scenes, thank you. So many details, both seen and unseen, came together to create a meaningful experience for our guests. From decorations and setup to welcoming attendees, coordinating logistics, capturing memories, supporting the program, and simply showing up with willing hearts, your efforts mattered deeply. Hope Grows Here became what it was because so many people chose to help make every detail special.
And then there was another moment I still struggle to put into words fully.
The launch of The Five Widows Club.
Holding the book in my hands during my first official public book signing felt surreal. This story lived inside me for a very long time before it ever became printed pages. To watch readers line up, purchase copies, ask questions, and connect emotionally with the characters reminded me that stories truly do matter.
Even more unbelievable was watching The Five Widows Club reach Amazon Best Seller status.
I still pause when I say those words.
Not because of the ranking itself, but because of what it represents. It represents years of listening to widows’ stories. Years of building community. Years of grief, resilience, faith, exhaustion, rebuilding, learning, and continuing anyway.
The book may carry my name on the cover, but it was shaped by countless real conversations and human experiences along the way.
And as if all of that were not enough for one month, May also marked another major transition in my life.
After years of service, I officially retired from my full-time role as a Project Manager within civil service.
That reality still feels strange to say aloud.
Retirement is an ending, yes. But it is also an opening.
For so long, my purpose work existed alongside full-time responsibilities, late nights, lunch breaks, weekends, and constant balancing. Now, for the first time in a long time, there is room to explore what this next chapter may become fully.
That feels exciting. A little frightening. Humbling. Sacred.
For the first time, I could fully see that Widowhood Real Talk with Tina has become more than a program or platform. It has become part of the legacy I hope to leave behind — a reminder that grief deserves community, honesty, compassion, and spaces where people are allowed to heal out loud.
I do not pretend to know exactly where the road ahead leads.
But I do know this:
May reminded me that purpose often grows slowly before it suddenly blooms all at once.
What began as grief support became community.
What began as conversations became a platform.
What began as pain became purpose.
And what began as one widow trying to survive became a room full of people reminding each other that healing is still possible.
As I move into this next season of life, I carry deep gratitude.
For every person who attended.
For every volunteer.
For every supporter.
For every reader.
For every podcast listener.
For every widow who trusted me with their story.
For every person who helped hope grow.
This month reminded me that growth does not erase grief.
But it does prove grief is not the end of the story.
And after everything this season has held, I can honestly say:
Hope really did grow here.
Somewhere between the dancing, the stories, the tears, the laughter, and the celebration, I realized something:
Hope had already taken root long before we ever arrived.
— Dr. Tina Fornwald
To learn more about Widowhood Real Talk with Tina or explore The Five Widows Club, visit
tinafornwald.com
To explore or purchase The Five Widows Club: https://bit.ly/TheFiveWidowsClub