6 lessons I’ve learned as a widow, mother of three, and breast cancer survivor

On a crisp November morning in 2021, my husband of over 22 years was driving our 13-year-old son to a soccer tournament.

What should have been a usual day of soccer quickly became a family’s worst nightmare. A reckless driver was speeding and ran a stop sign, hitting the driver’s side of my husband’s vehicle.

My husband was killed almost instantly. My injured and confused son was fighting to stay conscious while watching his father die in front of him. Our lives were shattered.

Next came a moment difficult to describe — anguish and gratitude coexisting simultaneously.

In the days, weeks, and months that followed, I stepped away from my career to grieve, care for my children, and rediscover what it meant to live — and live with purpose.

I learned many things in that valley of grief and growth, but perhaps one of the most unexpected lessons was this: We need to stop saying sorry for things we should never have to apologize for.

I’ve learned that purpose isn’t found in perfection or productivity — it’s found in presence.

So many of us, especially women, are conditioned to shrink ourselves with constant apologies. We say sorry when we ask for help, set a boundary, express grief, or take up space.

But here’s the truth I’ve come to understand: Grief is not an inconvenience, and healing is not something we owe anyone an apology for.

Instead of saying, “I’m sorry,” try saying, “Thank you.”

“Thank you for your patience.”

“Thank you for waiting while I gathered my thoughts.”

“Thank you for understanding that I needed time to process.”

Gratitude reframes the conversation. It reminds us — and others — that we are not a burden for simply being human.

Here are six unapologetic lessons I’ve learned as a widow, mother of three, and breast cancer survivor — each one hard-earned, and each one grounded in the belief that our lives are worth living fully, boldly, and without shame.

Before 2021, I never thought much about wills, power of attorney, or car insurance details. But when tragedy struck, I quickly learned how critical those things are.

If you haven’t already, get your legal affairs in order: a will, a healthcare directive, a power of attorney, and HIPAA release forms.

And check your car insurance — make sure your underinsured/uninsured motorist coverage is strong. The person who hurts you may not be the one who pays for it. Minimum car insurance coverage in many states, like Pennsylvania, is just $15,000 — that barely covers a funeral. Protecting yourself is not paranoid. It’s wise.

Grief doesn’t follow a straight line. One day you may feel OK, and the next you can barely breathe. That doesn’t make you broken. It makes you real.

People may not understand your tears two years later, your silence at a family gathering, or why you skipped the holiday party. That’s all right. You don’t owe them an explanation — or an apology.

Your grief is yours, and your timeline is sacred.

In the aftermath of loss, your energy becomes precious. Say no to the job that drains you, the event that overwhelms you, or the relationship that no longer serves your healing.

Say no to anyone who doesn’t honor your boundaries.

You’re not rude. You’re protecting your peace — and that matters more than pleasing others.

Toxic situations don’t get a pass just because someone’s related to you.

Sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is walk away — from dysfunction, drama, or even certain family dynamics. Choosing your mental well-being isn’t selfish; it’s survival.

And no, you don’t need to say sorry for that, either.

Loss changes you. But so does resilience.

You may not be the same person you were before the heartbreak, the diagnosis, or the funeral — and that’s OK. You’ve grown. You’ve seen darkness and still choose to reach for the light.

That version of you? She’s worthy of celebration, not apology.

Take the trip. Buy the car. Jump in the ocean. Sing loudly. Laugh hard. Book the spontaneous weekend. Use the good candles. Eat the cake. Make the memory.

You can’t take your vacation days or your savings with you when you’re gone. Time is our most valuable asset — spend it with the people you love, doing things that light your soul on fire. Live, and never apologize for doing so.

As a breast cancer survivor and a widow, I’ve faced moments I’d like to forget, but that are part of me now. I’ve lived through fear, heartbreak, and injustice. But I’ve also experienced profound joy, grace, and clarity. I’ve learned that purpose isn’t found in perfection or productivity — it’s found in presence.

So, don’t ever be sorry for being human. Rather, give yourself grace and gratitude — for your growth, your strength, your time, and your truth.

Thank you for reading, and for choosing to live unapologetically.

Kristi Hughes serves as president of Manavista PR, a custom communications consulting firm. She founded the Sean Hughes Memorial Fund in 2021, in memory of her husband, Sean Hughes, the longtime beloved principal of Lower Merion High School. The fund has initiated scholarships, organized public events, and is currently working on establishing the Sean Hughes Memorial Plaza at Lower Merion High School in Ardmore. Contact Kristi at www.linkedin.com/in/kristihughes.