My name is Andrew Eugene, and for the most part, I’m just a normal guy who loves Jesus. What’s usual about me is that my wife died suddenly in October of 2023. Her name was Deb. We had been happily married for 32 years and have three great children. This blog is a collection of the intimate struggles and experiences I had in real time. Each week was a new post, so that after the first year I had 52 posts. I put these posts up on social media, which is not recommended, but I didn’t know (and still don’t) how to make a blog.
Trying to understand the misery of widowhood is intensely private, so these writings follow suit. After friends have read them, they would use the word “Raw” often in describing my posts. So I took their advice and named the blog (and subsequent books) “Raw Grief.” It’s written, but not fit for human consumption yet, so my editing will take some time.
Most of the books I’ve read are from a female perspectives, and rarely read metaphors of construction, auto mechanics, or other manly things I like to write about. I’m not trying to evoke uncomfortable stereo types but working to have as much fun as I can on this trip of grief. Actually, I make fun of just about everything in these blog posts, mostly me. I like to make people laugh and believe most powerful learning experiences include humor.
Each post is basically unrelated, but each was written during the time frame of that week, with week 1 being the first week after Deb died. So, Week 32 was written the 32nd week after my wife’s death. I’m terrible with math but believe the weeks are aligned chronologically.
The topics aren’t related smoothly into a cohesive whole, but rather as different aspects of life I was struggling with at the time. I didn’t plan in advance so I didn’t know what the following week would hold for me. God provided them in light of our relationship together. Each article came from long period of silence, walking, praying, and “just thinking.”
My goal is to help men and women who have experienced the loss of a loved one. I bristle at cookie cutter solutions to problems that consumes it’s victims with chaos. Grief isn’t a problem to be solved, but an experience to be lived. My hope is that you can see past your pain to what God is doing inside you.
I’m big into prayer and mindfulness, and these passions come out in my writings. But nothing is bigger than the personal power of relationship with Jesus. Using his Word to understand what the truth is (not what my feelings are) is vital. And diving head long into the local community of believers is so important I don’t think my words can adequately explain it. I need others in my life, and they need me. When I’m humble enough to receive grace, my life deepens and my priorities are realigned. I can’t make it without my Church, thank God I won’t ever have to try.
I am a blessed man, despite all my self-consumed manipulation of the gifts he has given me. He keeps blessing me anyway. And his greatest blessing is himself, something no one can take away.