By Carolyn C. DeSena, Founder, WEforum Group
The Power of You
Change rarely arrives in sweeping acts of heroism. More often, it slips quietly into our lives, in a smile, a wave, a text that says, “I’m thinking of you,” or “How are you?” A gesture so small it might go unnoticed by the giver, yet monumental to the receiver.
We hesitate sometimes, doubting that our efforts matter. But kindness has no minimum threshold. It is not diminished by its size. I learned this when my own life collapsed, and it was the smallest acts, the meals, the messages, the steady presence of others, that kept me from falling through the cracks. Its power doesn’t announce itself. Its impact is quiet and undeniable. It helped me find my footing again.
February 11, 2017
Even now, the date carries weight. It was the day my husband, Neil, died suddenly of a heart attack, the kind they call a widow-maker.
Until that moment, our life was complete: a devoted husband, a vibrant family, a home built with love, and a community that surrounded us. When Neil died, the shock was total. The world felt hollow, soundless. I moved through the days as though underwater, sitting endlessly in his chair, wearing his shirt everyday, crouched on the floor in the shower, curled beneath blankets, grief following me everywhere I went. And that old saying about watching paint peel, as overused as it is, had never felt more accurate in describing those long, endless days
And yet, even as I unraveled, you held on. You reminded me of who I was, of the beauty and strength of my children, of Neil’s generosity and the lessons he left behind. I believed I had lost everything. But in the days that followed, I realized I had gained something I never expected: the unshakable force of my community.
The Aftermath
In the weeks after Neil’s passing, I lived in a haze, hollow, exhausted, and functioning only where necessity demanded. For my children and the practical pieces of life, I could move with almost mechanical precision. But anything beyond that felt impossible.
When I was alone, the silence was heavy. I would watch dust floating in the light, stuck somewhere between disbelief and the weight of reality. Getting dressed was a milestone. Healing felt out of reach. I questioned everything, including whether I deserved to move forward at all. The life I knew had vanished, and with it, a part of me.
Time, Loneliness, and Questions That Don’t Go Away
Time did not heal quickly. It stretched, long and quiet, giving me space I did not want but could not escape. I replayed the “what ifs” constantly. What strength had I failed to use? What signs did I miss? What could I have done to protect the person who meant everything to me?
These questions did not break me, but they did hollow me out. There were moments when I felt myself slipping away, running out of emotional oxygen. And then, in the darkness, something shifted, a flicker of perspective. There was a faint sense that the world was not entirely gone. That shimmer, real or remembered, became something I could hold onto.
A Quiet Rebirth
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, I began to rebuild from the inside out. Grief didn’t leave; it simply became a companion rather than an anchor. I grew stronger. My perspective widened. My purpose reshaped itself. The transformation is ongoing still, a second act that reveals itself day by day.
My rebirth is rooted in three things: my faith, my children, and you. And in each of these pillars, Neil is still present. My faith holds the belief that he is at peace. My children carry pieces of him in their faces, voices, and gestures. And you, my community, showed me how deeply kindness can reach.
Where Neil Lives On
Seeing Neil reflected in our children is both grounding and bittersweet. They remind me that love doesn’t disappear; it evolves. They are the reason I get up each morning, the reason I strive to be stronger than the day before. They inspire me to remember all the beautiful reasons to embrace life.
The Collective You
Then there is you, the collective you who stepped forward without hesitation. Meals, messages, care packages, hugs, letters, flowers, prayers, gifts for my children, and stories about Neil that I had never heard. Even your social media posts and simple acts of remembrance reached me in ways I cannot fully explain.
Your gestures steadied us. They gave structure to days that would have otherwise collapsed. From meal trains to grocery drop-offs, from colleagues bringing keepsakes to friends arranging grief counseling, every act formed a net beneath my family when we could not stand on our own. The reach of your kindness was broad, extending even to people we had never met.
The Broader Circle
Teachers, coaches, instructors, and faith leaders wrapped my children in gentleness. They took on a responsibility they were never asked to carry. They updated me, supported my children, and held space for their emotions with extraordinary care. They, too, became part of the “you” who lifted us.
My closest friends, my sisters in every sense but biological, stayed with me through the hardest nights. They traveled across states and continents, cleared their calendars, and sat beside me until I could breathe again. Because of them, I found the strength to honor Neil with a tribute worthy of his life.
The men in our lives stepped in too, often quietly, guiding my children, offering their time, maintaining connection even when grief made conversations difficult. Their presence mattered more than they knew.
The Lessons I Now Carry
Loss has a way of sharpening what matters. As Neil’s life ended, my awareness deepened and became sharper.. I have always given and shared what I could; now I share what I know: We are a community, locally, globally, humanly connected. We underestimate our influence far too often. When kindness is our baseline, our collective impact becomes extraordinary.
I am living proof of what happens when people choose to show up.
Redefining the Gift of the Season: The Power of You
In a season so often defined by gift-giving, it’s easy to get it wrong. We search for the perfect present, the perfect moment, the perfect expression, forgetting that the most meaningful gifts rarely come wrapped. They come from us. From our presence, our attention, our willingness to extend compassion to someone who may be quietly hurting.
What my community gave me was not something that could be purchased. It was steadiness. It was humanity. It was the simple, powerful gift of showing up. Those gestures carried me through the darkest chapter of my life, and they remain the gifts I cherish most.
As we move through this season and beyond, may we remember that the greatest gift we can offer is the one only we can give: the power of you, your kindness, your presence, your willingness to lift someone when they need it most.
Carolyn C. DeSena is the Founder and Chief Executive Officer of WEforum Group, a female-led nonprofit dedicated to advancing health and wellness education. Guided by her belief that education and access are the most powerful tools for lasting change, she created WEforum to inspire communities to achieve, maintain, and sustain optimal physical and mental well-being. Under her leadership, WEforum has launched a suite of transformative programs—including the Women’s Health and Wellness Conference, Wise Up Teen Advocacy Group, WEforum Fit Crawl, Beyond the Game: Ready for Life Athletic Symposium, and Community Conversations—making health education accessible, engaging, and actionable for all.
DeSena extends her entrepreneurial spirit to philanthropy and impact investing, serving on the boards of the Monmouth Medical Center Foundation, an RWJBarnabas Health Affiliate and the 52nd Street Project in Hell’s Kitchen, New York, while also supporting numerous organizations devoted to education, the arts, and community wellness. She is also an angel investor in ESG-focused start-ups working to improve lives on a global scale. Despite her many professional accomplishments, she considers her most meaningful role to be that of mother to her three children and carrying forward the legacy of her late husband, Neil, whose inspiration continues to fuel her mission of reshaping healthcare through prevention, holistic wellness, and community empowerment.
Featured photo caption: On a very special day, Two River Baseball Commissioner Chuck Jones and the entire community came together to honor my husband by giving my children the privilege of throwing our the first pitch to open the season.
