Finding Your Tribe Part 4: When Strangers Become Wisters® & The Birth of Connection

Our new beginning felt like exhaling after years of holding my breath. A cozy home on a quiet street. My daughters settled into their new schools—one in elementary, one in middle school. A church community within reasonable distance. And perhaps most precious of all, the gift of anonymity—being able to grocery shop without someone approaching me about my husband's death on Valentine's Day.

I embraced this fresh chapter, focusing on rebuilding our lives away from curious eyes and well-meaning but exhausting sympathy. My interior design business was stable, my daughters were adapting, and I had finally established boundaries that protected our healing process.

Then came the requests I wasn't prepared for.

A few of my design clients, upon discovering my widowhood story, asked if I would meet with their friends—young widows raising children who were struggling to find support. These women were apparently "at the end of their rope", a coping feeling I remembered all too well.

My initial reaction was resistance. I didn't have the emotional bandwidth, the mental space, or the physical time to invest in strangers' grief journeys. I had spent years carefully constructing a life that protected my energy and my daughters' wellbeing. Opening that door felt risky.

But something in me couldn't ignore these requests. I remembered the desperate longing for a mentor, for someone who understood—that feeling of unrequited love for a community that didn't seem to exist. The years of searching churches, groups, and programs, only to come up empty-handed. How could I deny these women what I had so desperately needed myself?

With gentle encouragement from younger widows who had shared that simply being listened to had helped them tremendously, I reconsidered. "I could at least listen to their stories," I thought. "What harm could come from that?"

So I said yes.

The three of us met at a restaurant during early happy hour. Our conversation flowed so naturally, so deeply, that we didn't notice the establishment gradually transforming into a nightclub around us. We laughed at how quickly the hours had vanished—a rare gift for women whose relationship with time had been forever altered by loss.

Despite our different backgrounds and circumstances, we found countless points of connection. The unique challenges of raising children alone after loss. The well-meaning but misguided advice from those who couldn't possibly understand. The exhaustion of being both mother and father, breadwinner and emotional anchor.

When it was time to leave, I found myself asking if they'd like to meet again. Their enthusiastic "yes" surprised me with how much it warmed my heart.

The First Wisters® Mandy, Carolyn and Vashon

That evening revealed a universal truth about widowhood I hadn't fully appreciated before: widows tend to find other widows through introduction. Our friends and family, witnessing our struggle to be understood, connect us with others like us—hoping we'll find in each other the understanding they simply cannot provide.

What I didn't realize then, as we walked out of that accidentally trendy nightclub, was that this impromptu gathering would become the first of many. That these connections would multiply beyond anything I could imagine.

That the tribe I had searched for wasn't waiting to be found—it was waiting to be created.

What began as strangers sharing stories across a restaurant table had transformed into something deeper—a sisterhood forged through shared experience rather than blood. Today, we have a special name for this unique bond: wisters® (widow + sisters), our trademarked term that perfectly captures the connection between women who understand each other's journey without explanation. This seemingly simple combination of words has become a secret handshake of sorts, instantly conveying the depth and meaning of relationships that transcend ordinary friendship.

As I stood in my hallway later contemplating this next step, a Helen Keller quote I'd passed countless times suddenly appeared with new significance—as if illuminated for this specific moment. Her words spoke directly to my hesitation, becoming a clear sign that I needed to move forward despite my doubts. I would no longer refuse to do the small part I could, understanding that even a seemingly modest contribution might create ripples of change for others walking this widow's path. Sometimes the wisdom we need has been surrounding us all along, waiting for the moment we're finally ready to truly see it.

A new level of connection had been born—one I never went looking for but somehow found me anyway. This fragile beginning was now mine to nurture, and invite others into, though I couldn't possibly foresee how it would grow or where it might lead. Like any new mother, I felt both the weight of responsibility and the wonder of possibility as I held this fledgling community in my hands, not yet understanding that what began as a simple conversation would eventually transform countless lives, including my own.

Thank you for following along this 5 part series and I’m looking forward to sharing the final piece.

-Carolyn Moor Founder Widow Life™, Modern Widows Club® and The Movement for Widow Care™ (MWC)

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In partnership with New York Life Foundation for our 5-Part 'Finding Your Tribe' Series in honor of Mental Health Awareness Month and Children’s Mental Health Awareness Month