The Story Behind The Five Widows Club
I didn’t set out to write a novel.
For the first two years after my husband died, I was simply trying to survive.
There was no vision of helping others. No sense of calling. No plan to write anything meaningful for public consumption.
I was accepting the love, support, and care that surrounded me and doing everything I could to keep my mind from unraveling.
I journaled because I had to. Because the thoughts had nowhere else to go. Because putting words on paper was one of the few ways I could stay anchored in a world that no longer made sense after Mark died.
Those pages held my conversations with God. My confusion. My anger. My longing. My love for Mark.
For a long time, those journals were not about purpose. They were about survival.
It wasn’t until nearly six years later that I began to look back at those pages and think, Huh… there’s something here.
For the first time, the idea crossed my mind that I could write not to teach, not to guide but simply to tell my own story. A memoir. A love story. My life with Mark.
But even then, I hesitated.
I wondered what good it would do for someone else to read my story alone. I wanted to help, not just remember. I wanted my words to serve.
Around that time after recording hundreds of podcast episodes, hosting grief support groups, leading live discussions, participating in panel conversations, and serving as a guest on numerous podcasts my thinking began to shift again.
Maybe the answer wasn’t a memoir. Maybe it was a guide.
Something practical. Something supportive. Something that gathered wisdom from many voices and offered comfort to the newly bereaved.
The Grief Guide was born in that season.
And then one afternoon, I walked into a bookstore.
I went searching for the very guides I thought I was meant to write. I found them tucked away in the back left-hand corner of the store quiet, dusty, almost hidden.
Valuable, yes. But not inviting. Not drawing people in.
At the front of the store were vibrant books stories. Titles that stirred curiosity. Covers that invited readers to linger.
People were holding them. Flipping pages. Staying.
As I drove home, something shifted.
And then, unmistakably, I heard God speak:
The Five Widows Club.
I remember thinking, Huh.
By then, I had spent years in conversation with widows and grievers listening, holding space, witnessing what stories do that instruction alone cannot.
People learn through story. People heal through connection. People recognize themselves in honest, layered conversations.
What began as survival Evolved into reflection. Reflected into guidance. And was ultimately transformed into story.
The Five Widows Club is fiction. But its emotional truth is real.
The women in these pages carry questions I have heard whispered for years about love, faith, anger, guilt, longing, and hope. About believing in God when life has broken you open.
Writing this book became an act of obedience.
What I thought would be a memoir became something larger. What I thought would be a guide became a story one capable of reaching hearts a checklist never could.
Because stories linger. Because stories invite us in. Because stories remind us we are not alone.
This is where the book truly began.
Not at the end of grief. But in the middle of becoming.
If this reflection resonates with you, you’re welcome to pull up a chair and stay awhile. New reflections arrive gently, when there’s something meaningful to share.
Dr. Tina Fornwald