Today, on the 23rd of June, we observe International Widows Day—a day to acknowledge the struggles and resilience of widows around the world. According to the UN, there are over 258 million widows worldwide, each with their own story of loss and strength. Major Frankie Burgoyne shares her journey and the hope she has in Jesus as she walks this difficult path.
In 2021, I fell deeply in love with Johnny Burgoyne. We were married for 19 wonderful years. In January 2021, we were both joyfully serving as Salvation Army officers at Thembela Home. However, the arrival of COVID-19 brought unimaginable trauma. Johnny contracted the virus and was hospitalized for 11 days. At the same time, 26 people at Thembela Home tested positive for COVID-19. Tragically, there were four deaths, including my beloved Johnny. Those 11 days were the most traumatic of my life—managing the home, unable to visit Johnny, and then hearing the devastating news of his passing.
In the years since, I have learned more about grief than I ever thought possible. There is a vast emptiness inside me that remains unfilled. A year later, I lost my mom and found myself completely alone in the home Johnny and I had shared. Without my mom and dad who had both recently passed away, with my children who were in Cape Town while I was in Durban I felt so alone. Although I was surrounded by people who loved me and prayed for me, I felt isolated. Many, perhaps mistakenly, couldn’t understand the depth of my grief because I had Jesus.
I sought comfort and strength from Him and tried to move forward with my life. Outwardly, I managed, but inwardly, I was broken. Each day, I went through the motions—working, returning home, and feeling utterly lost and lonely. Despite my relationship with the Lord and fulfillment in my calling as an officer, the gut-wrenching pain of losing Johnny was beyond words. We had been married for only 20 years, expecting another 25 or 30 years together, but it wasn’t to be.
I experienced the usual stages of grief—denial, anger at God, doubt, and questioning. I never found answers but had to accept that God sees the bigger picture. I reminded myself that He knew what Johnny’s condition would be if he survived the hospital. He knew Johnny wouldn’t want a diminished quality of life. I had to trust that God knew what was best.
Three years later, I am still walking the path of grief. I miss Johnny immensely. I look at his photographs, sometimes catch his scent, and ache for him. Yet, my faith remains unshaken. Well-meaning people send me songs that question why I still grieve, reminding me I have Jesus. I smile and think, “You haven’t walked my road.” I am deeply grateful for the love and support from many, even those unsure of what to say.
Isaiah 42:3 says, “A bruised reed He will not break, and a smoldering wick He will not snuff out.” This verse has been a source of comfort. It reassures me that, although I am bruised, I am not broken. I am not alone in my journey. I believe God cries with me, feels my pain, and comforts me. He holds my hand, and that sustains me.
And so, while I do not know the end of my story, I trust in His presence and His love, which carry me through each day.
