Reclaimed Horizons Samantha Goins, 9905 S Pennsylvania Avenue suite A, Owasso, OK (2026)

Start here if you’re feeling stuck in survival mode. ⬇️
https://linktr.ee/ReclaimedHorizons_SamanthaG Samantha Goins, a dedicated christian widow grief coach, has transformed her personal tragedy into a powerful mission. Widowed since 2020, she faced the daunting task of navigating her own grief while supporting her 3 young children. After 18 months of intense darkness, Samantha began her journey

towards healing, learning to nurture her mind, body, and spirit. Her healing journey began with small, intentional steps, leading her to become an expert in managing grief, recognizing triggers, coping with secondary losses, and dealing with depression and anxiety. Most importantly, she has learned to lean on God and practice self-love and grace. Her mission is to guide other christian widows through their grief journey, helping them embrace their pain, heal, and move forward in life with a reclaimed life full of hope and joy.

09/01/2026

I knew my husband had died. But I don't think every part of me believed it yet.

I had gotten the phone call.

I had cried until I didn't think I could cry anymore.

There were decisions being made and things that had to be handled that I never imagined I'd be handling at 40 years old.

I knew Jimmy was gone.

But grief is strange like that.

Sometimes your mind knows something before the rest of you can fully comprehend it.

And then his truck pulled into our driveway.

His tools were there.

His suitcases were there.

His wallet and personal effects were there.

Everything he had taken with him to New York came home.

Except him.

And something inside of me finally understood.

JIMMY WASN’T COMING HOME.

I went into our bedroom, grabbed a teddy bear he'd given me and a picture of us, laid down on the floor beside our mattress and completely fell apart.

Looking back almost 6 years later, I can still remember that moment so clearly.

There were so many moments like this after losing him.

Things that probably looked ordinary from the outside but somehow made his death real all over again.

A truck.

A piece of mail.

Paperwork.

Walking into a room.

Doing something he'd always done.

Sometimes grief didn't hit me during the moments I expected it to.

It hit when some tiny piece of our life suddenly reminded my mind and my body:

He's really not coming back.

So if you've ever been completely knocked down by something that seemed so small to everyone else, I hope you know…it wasn't small to you.

It was connected to a person you loved and a life you never imagined having to live without them.

Be really gentle with yourself there.

Sometimes that’s enough for today.

08/27/2026

I didn’t know giving away a bed could hold so much grief.

It wasn’t just furniture.

Jimmy bought that bed before we were even married.

We weren’t engaged yet, but we already knew we wanted a life together.

And for the next 14 years, that bed was part of our life together.

Then Jimmy died.

While we were preparing the house to sell, the frame was taken apart and leaned against the wall near our garage.

I walked past it all the time.

And when it finally came time to decide what was moving to Oklahoma with us, I remember knowing one thing with absolute certainty:

I couldn’t take our bed.

I couldn’t imagine putting it back together in another house knowing he would never sleep beside me in it again.

At the time, I don’t think I understood much beyond that.

I just knew I couldn’t do it.

Eventually I moved into another house.

I slept without a bed frame for quite a while before finding one that looked completely different from ours.

Something girlier.

Something I picked because I liked it.

And even that felt strange.

Over the years there has been new bedding. Little things added to the room. Slowly making the space feel different.

Almost six years later, I’m realizing how much of rebuilding has looked like that.

Tiny, ordinary transitions from ours to mine that didn’t feel tiny at all.

Not because I stopped loving what was ours.

Not because I wanted that chapter to end.

And definitely not because creating something new erased what came before it.

I was simply learning, one tiny decision at a time, how to live inside a life that was mine now.

And some of those seemingly ordinary decisions carried a whole lot of grief.

Maybe rebuilding isn’t always one big brave step.

Sometimes it’s choosing a different bed.

Sometimes it’s buying new bedding.

Sometimes it’s slowly looking around a room that once felt completely foreign and realizing...

this is starting to feel like mine.

I think it took me a long time to understand that both could be true.

08/25/2026

I didn’t know I’d made the 1 year mark an invisible finish line until I crossed it.

I don’t remember ever consciously telling myself,

Just make it to one year and you’ll be okay.

But somewhere along the way, I think I started believing it.

And then September 3 came.

One year.

I had survived an entire year without my husband.

And then...

September 4th came.

And I was still grieving.

I still missed him like hell.

I was still exhausted.

Still crying.

Still dealing with horrible brain fog.

Still taking my kids to school and coming home some days just to sleep or disappear into Netflix.

Still going through the motions.

Still very much in survival mode.

And I remember feeling frustrated with myself.

Why wasn’t I better yet????

Looking back now, I realize I’d absorbed an idea about grief that I don’t think anyone ever had to directly teach me.

That eventually enough time passes and you’re supposed to be “over it.”

One year.

Two years.

Three.

At some point, people start wondering why you’re still talking about the person who died.

And I think some part of me believed it too.

Almost 6 years later, I wish I could sit beside that version of myself and tell her:

There isn’t a finish line.

You don’t have to rush this.

Rest when you need to rest.

Say no when you need to say no.

Grieve the way you need to grieve.

You don’t have to know how you’re going to rebuild your whole life yet.

Just take the next tiny step.

Because what I couldn’t see at one year was that healing was already happening.

It just didn’t look anything like I thought healing was supposed to look like.

Healing isn’t a reward you get for grieving long enough.

And there isn’t a date on the calendar when you’re suddenly supposed to be done missing someone you love.

Be really gentle with yourself there. 🫶

08/15/2026

For me, it was his voice and his sense of humor. Sometimes I pull up an old video just because I need to hear Jimmy again.

I don’t have nearly as many videos of him as I wish I did. And there have been times I’ve gone looking through the ones I do have because I was scared I couldn’t remember exactly what his voice sounded like anymore.

Which feels almost impossible.

This was my husband.

He was from Alabama. He had a very noticeable Southern accent. 😂 His was a voice I heard all the time and would’ve recognized anywhere.

But after enough time passes without hearing it, something strange happens.

I know his voice in my head...but I can’t always completely “hear” it.

Then I press play.

And for just a second, his voice can almost sound like a stranger’s.

And at the exact same time, it’s so familiar.

So comforting.

There he is.

That’s Jimmy.

My kids have had this fear too. They’ve actually cried because they were scared they couldn’t remember what their dad sounded like anymore.

And I think that’s one of those parts of losing someone we don’t talk about enough.

Sometimes we’re not only grieving that they’re gone.

We’re scared of losing the little pieces of them we still have.

Maybe for you it’s his voice too.

Or his laugh.

The way he smelled.

The way he said your name.

Some little phrase he always used.

A mannerism you never imagined you’d someday have to work to remember.

If you’ve had that fear, I understand it.

And maybe that’s why the few ordinary videos I have of Jimmy don’t feel ordinary at all anymore. 🤍

What's one little piece of him you're afraid you’ll forget?

Address

9905 S Pennsylvania Avenue Suite A
Owasso, OK
73159

Website

https://linktr.ee/ReclaimedHorizons_SamanthaG, https://linktr.ee/ReclaimedHorizons_SamanthaG, https://reclaimed-horizons

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