In what she called the “hardest holiday of my life,” Erika Kirk marked her family’s first Thanksgiving without her late husband, conservative activist and Turning Point USA founder Charlie Kirk, who was assassinated in September at just 31 years old.

In a deeply emotional Instagram post shared Thursday morning, Erika opened up about grief, gratitude, and the surreal experience of facing a season of abundance after a year defined by unbearable loss.

“Charlie and I always loved Thanksgiving because it drew us back to the simple, but holy practice of gratitude,” she wrote. “And even now—well, especially now—in the depths of the ache, I’m reminded of that gratitude.”

Her message, accompanied by a video showing a mountain of letters, toys, artwork, and children’s Bibles sent by supporters from across the country, illustrated how the young widow is navigating the impossible task of holding tragedy in one hand and thanksgiving in the other.

“God blessed me with being married to the love of my life”

Kirk reflected on her short but intensely close marriage, describing her profound gratitude that—even in loss—her life was touched by Charlie’s.

“God blessed me with being married to the love of my life, with our beautiful babies, with our family and friends, and with people from all over the world who have sent us letters, toys, artwork, and Bibles,” she wrote. “It’s easy to fixate on what’s been taken, at what’s missing. But my goodness does the Lord meet me in my weakness.”

The couple married in 2021 and quickly became one of the most prominent young families in conservative circles. Their daughter was born in 2022, their son in 2024—both too young to fully understand the magnitude of their loss but old enough to feel their father’s absence.

Charlie’s assassination earlier this fall sent shockwaves through the political world, sparking congressional tributes, candlelight vigils, and an outpouring of grief from young conservatives who had come to see him as a generational leader.

But in Thursday’s post, Erika centered the deeply private side of that tragedy: a wife without her husband, and two children whose father will never walk them into their first day of school.

A mother explaining Heaven

One of the most moving parts of Erika’s message came in a quiet moment she captured on video, showing her sitting with her children and explaining Heaven in the gentlest language she could summon.

“Heaven’s our home,” she said softly. “I just want her to know that daddy is having so much fun and building a place for her and our family.”

It was the kind of intimate, tender exchange rarely seen on social media—a glimpse into a young mother’s effort to offer comfort she must also somehow believe for herself.

Those words were paired with footage of the countless gifts, cards, and handwritten notes supporters have sent in the weeks since Charlie’s death. Erika said she is saving every one.

“I’m reading every letter and card, opening every gift, and saving each one for them when they’re older,” she wrote. “I can’t express what the outpouring of love has meant to me and the babies.”

“What remains is sacred”

Kirk’s post struck a tone that has defined her public grieving: honest pain intertwined with a stubborn and reverent faith.

“What remains is sacred,” she wrote—a line that quickly went viral among her followers.

In her closing message, she addressed her late husband directly:

“We’ll save a plate for you, babe. Happy Thanksgiving.”

Friends, supporters, and fellow conservative figures flooded the comments, expressing heartbreak, admiration, and prayers for continued strength. Many wrote that Erika’s message—grounded in gratitude despite devastation—captured the complicated emotional landscape of the holiday season for anyone who has lost someone they love.

A grief that is private, and yet shared by millions

Though the assassination of Charlie Kirk was a national political moment, Erika’s Thanksgiving message underscored something more universal: the grief so many families face this time of year. For those missing a spouse, a parent, a sibling, or a child, holidays are not simply “hard”—they are ruptures in time.

Erika didn’t downplay that.

She leaned into it.

And in doing so, she offered a rare public expression of what mourning looks like when paired with faith, motherhood, and the unthinkable burden of raising two children who will grow up hearing stories of a father taken too soon.