Peace, Love & Grief – There is a peace that comes with acceptance, and a love that is always remembered

Peace, Love, and Grief – A Huge Loss

Well, August has been quite the month. I’m not just referring to the loss of several, amazing performers. I am also talking about personal loss. A few weeks ago, I wrote about the loss of my cousin. Then, late last weekend, my father-in-law, Bruce’s Dad passed away… My hurt is so heavy at his loss.

I know I always talk about Bruce being my hero and what an amazing man he was. Well, he didn’t learn to be that man all by himself. Bruce’s Dad was the same way… He gave love easily, and he was easy to love.

We knew on Saturday that it was just a matter of “when”. He was in the care of hospice and those who lived close by had the opportunity to say their “good-bye’s”. For myself and my kids, we got together here at my house to share stories, hugs, tears, and to say good-bye to this wonderful man.

You see, he wasn’t just my father-in-law from a second marriage. From day one, he made it clear that he was my Dad too… And my kids? He loved them like all the rest of his grandchildren. So, we were all devastated by the news.

We ended up doing a little something out at the beach, (of course). We decorated a box with his name and a quote that seemed like it was written just for this wonderful man…

“There are some who bring a light so great to the world that even after they have gone the light remains.” ~ Unknown

We filled that box with flowers, incense, and letters that we each wrote to him. Then, we read some poems, a prayer, and gave a toast to a life lived well and a man who was an angel while he walked this earth.

At this point, everyone has gone home, but my heart is still hurting. There is so much I want to say, but my thoughts seem to be in a jumble so I don’t quite know where to start. I just know that I am absolutely heart broken. That being said, if you don’t mind, I’d like to share my letter to him, in an effort to bring him to life to you too… I want the world to know that this man filled a huge hole in my heart by simply loving me unconditionally from the moment we met.

“Dear Dad,
I am struggling to believe you are truly gone. It almost feels like losing another piece of Bruce from my life. : ( I will always remember the first time I met you… I walked through your door and you immediately wrapped me into the biggest hug ever. Then you immediately told me that you loved me. You said that anyone who could put Bruce’s smile back on his face was someone you loved already – no questions asked. Then, you grabbed my left hand to look for a ring and asked Bruce where it was and what he was waiting for. I was horrified, but Bruce just laughed. Several times a day throughout that visit, you would randomly grab my hand, wave it in Bruce’s face, and tell him to “hurry up and fix that”. LOL! You were right, though. Just a few months later we were married, and you (officially) became my Dad too… (And a grandfather to my kiddos).

Thank you!! Thank you for loving me and my kids unconditionally. Thank you for great hugs and the best advice. Thank you for being all the things a Dad can be – that was new for me. Thank you for great stories and fun games. Thank you for Bruce – for showing him how to be a wonderful husband, friend, and father.

It brings me peace to know that you two are together again (and probably up to some shenanigans)!

I love you so much and my heart is so broken to know I will never hear you tell another story or laugh or tell me that I am your daughter too, and that you love me. To never fell your hugs or share some tears whenever we said ‘good-bye’ just seems wrong.

I love you, Dad, and that’s forever! XXXOOO”
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Grief is a daily challenge that changes us in ways we could never foresee, making this journey a difficult path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone.

I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone.

Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

This is a weekly blog; for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief

* Be advised that all comments are subject to approval prior to posting. Any comments determined to be spam or not in accordance with the mission of this website/blog will not be approved or posted. Furthermore, any comments determined to be hostile in nature will be reported to the proper authorities. Thank you.

Peace, Love, and Grief – Grieving Your Own Way

You may have noticed that I was MIA last weekend. I was in SC for the life celebration of my cousin that I wrote about the week before. Sometimes, I’m not quite sure how to describe those events. Obviously, they are for the living. It is a chance to share stories, tears, and hugs.

For all of the cousins, there was the realization that moving forward, we want to go back to having a “Cousins’ Reunion” at least once a year. Somewhere along the way, we let the busy-ness of life take hold and that yearly time together dissipated… But the love we always shared was still there, and so is the resolve to do better… to love better.

The day after, one of my daily readings was about grief and the act of mourning. (Talk about perfect timing!) In it, the author, who is a Native American, wrote about how the different ways humans express their grief. For example, here in America, we tend to expect people to “get over it” quickly or at the very least to grieve quietly. While is other cultures, professional mourners are actually hired to wail and cry in an effort to help the bereaved release their own grief.

I think, for me, I needed the latter when Bruce died… I think that maybe some of my anger, which I struggled to even acknowledge, was due to the unsaid expectations of others to grieve quietly and leave them out of it… After all, it made people very uncomfortable.

However, I have always been the one to feel all the things, and usually, that comes out in the form of tears… uncontrolled, big, fat tears. As a child, my poor mother was always trying to teach me not to cry. I can’t tell you how many times I heard “It’s time for you to grow up and learn to control those tears.” (Anyone who knows me can tell you…that didn’t work.) Instead, no matter how hard I fight it, the tears come. Then, I am embarrassed, which makes me cry more. Sigh… It’s ridiculous. (At the same time, my blood pressure is great! LOL!)

Personally, I think the pressure to “hide” my grief played a big role in how long it has taken me to find my way forward. Sure… for some people, quiet mourning is probably what is best for them. At the same time, I think we would all be a lot better off if we also accepted that we are all different. Meaning that others (like me) may need to express our grief more openly… without shame or fear of negative response from others.

In my opinion, the Native Americans got it right. So much of their Ancestral wisdom hits my soul with how simple and right it is, and their wisdom about grief is no different. For example…

“The purpose of mourning was to empty the burden of grief from the bodies of those who remained behind. Our Wise Ancestors understood that grieving was a part of the healing process.” ~ Jamie Sams, Earth Medicine

Maybe one day, our different cultures will come to realize that just as birth and death are a part of life, so are the joy and grief that accompanies each of those events. Maybe we will learn to accept each person’s needs in grief as easily as we accept their joy in life.
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This is a weekly blog; for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief

Peace, Love, and Grief – Saying Goodbye

Less than a year before Bruce passed, we were at his family reunion in Michigan when word came that one of his cousins had just died from a gunshot wound. From what I remember, it was an accident. Nothing malicious… but that didn’t make it any easier on anyone there.

I don’t remember ever meeting this cousin nor do I remember Bruce ever talking about him. However, I will always remember how shook-up Bruce was. He was a quiet person anyway, and this news left him pulling deep within himself. In fact, I don’t think he said more than a handful of words for the rest of the trip.

He tried to talk about it a couple of times, but he just couldn’t… Talking would mean letting go… losing control… and he wasn’t going to do that in front of anyone. Months later, when he was ready, he finally talked about how it had felt hearing the news and seeing all of the pain around him. He shared some memories about his cousin. He talked about how his grief was deeper than he would have expected. That death hit him hard and he struggled with it for the few months he had left.

I admit that I didn’t really understand his grief at that point, because it was something I had not experienced. However, I had compassion for his pain… I could be extra kind and caring on the harder days… I could listen when he needed to talk… In other words, it wasn’t my pain, but I could still hold space with and for Bruce as he processed his grief for someone he loved who had died way too young.

Then, Bruce died… And I certainly received my own lessons on grief and pain and all that goes with losing someone you love way too soon. (You know that… that is what I usually write about here.)

This week, I lost one of my cousins. He was younger than me by several years, but I still have lots of memories with him growing up. When he and his sister were really little, they came and lived with us for a summer due to their mother recovering from some health issues. Then when I was older, I would spend my summers in Charleston, bouncing between my grandparents’ and my cousins’ homes. There were only a few of us cousins, but there were plenty of shenanigans and precious memories made.

As adults, we stayed in touch for a long time. We used to have an annual “Cousin Reunion” and there were phone calls a few times a year just to catch up on life. Then somehow, life got crazier and all of that seemed to slowly fade.

We still spoke when we saw each other, but that was usually at a family funeral every few years. Over time, I have watched my cousins’ kids grow up via Facebook and somehow convinced myself that was enough… It wasn’t.

And I figured it out this week, when I got the message of his death. I knew immediately that despite all of my talk here about life being precious… about spending time with those you love… and telling them… I have dropped that ball… and I regret that so much.

This week, there have been a lot of conversations between the cousins. This is our wake-up call… This is our time to rally around our cousin (his sister) and just be there… This is the time for all of us to come back together and create new memories. This is also our time to get reacquainted with each other and each other’s families.

I have also been in touch with my cousin’s daughter this week. She is an amazing woman. She has been kind and gracious, despite the pain I know she must be experiencing. She has been on my heart all week. I don’t know what it is like to lose a parent. (Mine are still alive and we talk almost daily.) However, I do know how hard it is to lose someone you love.

Personally, I think one of the hardest parts about losing someone is saying “goodbye”. For most of us, you don’t get the chance to say it before they die… especially when they die unexpectedly and/or too young. Instead, you are stuck trying to figure out how to say it afterward… (Or, like me… maybe it is still something you are working on years later.)

What I do know is this… Death is awful. Each journey is different – the pain and the grief are as individual as fingerprints. Right now, my cousin is being grieved by his four children, his sister, his extended family, and his friends… and for each of us that feels a little bit different. For all of us, the world is spinning just a little bit slower without him this week.

To his children and his sister, I am so sorry for your loss and your pain. I wish there were words that I could write here that would make this journey a little bit easier… but there aren’t. All I can do is love you… and I do.

Just sit there right now
Don’t do a thing
Just rest

For your separation from God
Is the hardest work in this world

Let me bring you trays of food
And something
That you like to drink

You can use my soft words
As a cushion
For your
Head
~ Hafiz
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Grief is a daily challenge that changes us in ways we could never foresee, making this journey a difficult path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone.

This is a weekly blog; for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief
* Be advised that all comments are subject to approval prior to posting. Any comments determined to be spam or not in accordance with the mission of this website/blog will not be approved or posted. Furthermore, any comments determined to be hostile in nature will be reported to the proper authorities. Thank you.

Peace, Love, and Grief – The Anger

I just want to be able to smile again.
I don’t want to be angry and bitter.
This isn’t me.
I am praying…
No… begging God for healing.
We will see if His promises
Are meant for me too.
~ Linda, Feb 2013

I have often heard the phrase, “the landscape of our heart” when speaking about our outlook on life and love. Throughout my relationship with Bruce, I would have described my heart’s landscape as a gorgeous spring meadow filled with an array of delicate spring flowers under a crystal blue sky. It was a place of newness… and hope… and adventure… and love – mostly love.

When he died, that landscape was completely shattered – like dropping a full crystal goblet. Glass and sharp shards scattered everywhere… and the contents spilled on the floor amongst all of it. All that was left was a huge mess – everything was lost.

At first the only emotion I can remember feeling was shock. I mean, I know I was sad… I couldn’t seem to stop crying. I had to focus just to breathe. Those first few weeks were just a blurred nightmare.

It didn’t take long, though, for my mind to start looking at this new reality, and what I didn’t expect (nor could I even acknowledge, at first) was the anger. I had no idea that the biggest emotion I would feel was anger… and I was so incredibly angry.

However, my whole life I have been told that anger is a sin. It was a “bad” emotion, and as a woman, it was my job to let it go and maintain control… So, if I’m honest, I don’t think I even recognized that anger was the emotion I was feeling.

Everything I read, the support group I attended, the people around me… everyone kept telling me that anger was normal, but I would deny I was angry every single time. All I knew was that I was grieving, (whatever that was) … but in reality, I was incredibly angry.

I was angry at God/the Universe that Bruce was dead, and I was here. I was mad at Bruce for dying and leaving me here. I was mad at myself for not saving him that night. I was mad at other couples for still being together. I was mad at the kind words people offered, because it just made my situation more real. I was at people who didn’t acknowledge my loss, because my pain was so deep how could they not notice. I was mad about all the “business” that goes with death, because I had no idea what I needed to do. I was angry when people checked on me, and I was angry when they didn’t. (And this list could go on forever.)

In other words, I was angry about everything… and that went on for years.

Then one day, I remembered a phrase my mother used to say to us all the time while growing up, “If you are having problems with the rest of the world, maybe the rest of the world isn’t the problem.”

Sigh… The truth can be brutal sometimes, can’t it? I know things didn’t change right away, but this was my starting point toward healing.

First, I had to acknowledge the anger I was feeling… So, I sat with it for a while. I was journaling a lot back then… several times a day, actually. It was my safe space to release all the feelings – even the ridiculous ones that made no sense. Thankfully, I was able to go back and read the things I had written, and while the word “anger” wasn’t there, the tone, the words, and the handwriting left little room for doubt.

Once I could acknowledge that I was even feeling angry, then I had to reflect on if that anger was legitimately pointed in the right direction(s). It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that it wasn’t.

I wasn’t really angry at anyone. I was angry at the situation… But I couldn’t yell at a situation. I couldn’t slam the door on a situation… I couldn’t even talk to the situation and make it better. The only option available was to find a way to accept the situation… There would be no peace any other way.

That was a lot harder than I would have thought. I continued to fight it for years. (In fact, I think I still have days when I just can’t let myself think about it, because I get angry all over again.)

I guess the point I am trying to make is this… Until I acknowledged my anger, I was never going to get any better. Yet, that was just the beginning of the journey. I had to stop pointing that anger in all the wrong directions. Instead, whenever I felt the urge to respond in anger, I literally had to sit down and figure out what I was truly angry about. Then, I had to decide the best route to managing those emotions in that moment (because those moments are all different) … And finally, I had to forgive myself for all of it… For being angry… for being sad… for simply being human… and feeling lost.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but somewhere along the way, this grief journey became my healing journey. I don’t know if the healing will ever stop, because I don’t know that my love for Bruce will ever stop. However, I do know that my ability to accept all the parts of me (even the angry parts) has had the most impact on my healing and my growth towards wholeness.

“… our personal healing defines our ability to be sensitive in all situations. Once we heal our hurt and anger toward others, we must cross the bridge of forgiving ourselves as well.” ~ Jamie Sams, Earth Medicine
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Grief is a daily challenge that changes us in ways we could never foresee, making this journey a difficult path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone.

Peace, Love, and Grief – My Other Half

The sun sets at the end of the day.
The sky is pink.
I am reminded of you…
And I smile.

The full moon rises over the trees.
It lights up the world.
I am reminded of you…
And I smile.

The storm rolls in
With its dark clouds.
It puts on a show for the world.
I am reminded of you…
And I smile.

The waves crash onto the beach.
There for a moment,
And then gone again.
I am reminded of you…
And I smile.

All around me life goes on.
I see you in every flower
And feel you in the stir of the wind.
Your soul reaches out to me
To remember…
Then, I do…
And I smile.
~ Linda, Oct 2013

When Bruce and I first moved out here to this little coastal town in Florida, it was to be by the ocean. From our first conversation, we had bonded over our love for the ocean – her beauty… her calm… her rage – all of the components that make her so intriguing. We were beyond excited to finally live so close to her.

Every weekend (weather permitting), you could find us either sitting beachside, boating or kayaking. Just a few hours by the water was our way of restoring our souls and getting grounded for the week ahead.

After he died, I still spent most weekends doing the same. Eventually, as life started changing, I found myself going out there less and less. After a couple of years, I gave the boat to my grandson. Then, several years later I gave the kayaks to one of my daughters. And while sitting by the beach was still on my list of “favorite things to do”, my weekends seemed to get fuller and fuller, until my beach time was nonexistent… And it probably sounds silly, but I could the loss of that precious time in my soul.

So, this year, I made up my mind to reclaim that time. If my soul was yearning for some time by the sea, then it was up to me to reclaim it… to make time for it… to just do it. Now I am out there several times a month, letting the gentle rhythm of the tide and the warmth of the sun do their magic.

It has been amazing! How in the world did I let this slip away for so long? I not only love being out there, but because Bruce’s ashes were scattered offshore, it feels a bit like I am also spending time with him… something I will never get tired of doing. Sometimes, when my eyes are closed and I am taking in the beach with my other senses, I can almost feel him next to me… and my soul comes alive. Sitting there, I am reminded of all the things that went into our relationship… all of the magic that comes when you find your ‘other half’.

In my readings this week, I came across a passage about finding our soul mates… our other half, and how hard finding that person can be. How true! It took Bruce and I over 40 years to find each other… Yet, once we did, neither of us had any doubts… We knew we belonged together.

“The mate that will walk with us through all of the up and down cycles of life and will be our trusted companion is often hard to find. My elders called this special person the other half, or the split apart.” ~ Jamie Sams, Earth Medicine

However, there was more… You see, “our song” was ‘God Bless the Broken Road’ by Rascal Flats. In the song, the lyrics say,
“That every long-lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart, they were like Northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you”
(Copyright 2005, Lyric Street Records, Inc)

Bruce always believed that. He never talked badly about his ex or past relationships. He was open and honest and candid about what happened, what went wrong, and what he owned in all of that. However, there was never any anger or bitterness. Just a recognition of “this is what happened” and “this is what I learned” which is “how I got here with you”.

I learned a LOT from that.

“Every relationship teaches us about ourselves if we have the courage to look within, to see how we can learn from others, and how we can heal the parts of our personalities that struggle against union or unity.” ~ Jamie Sams, Earth Medicine

While my previous marriage was a bit dark, following Bruce’s example through the years, I have learned to recognize the lessons I learned and the strength I gained. Even in more previous relationships, both good and difficult, I have learned to see the things I gained by knowing that person. (Let’s be honest, though. Sometimes, I need a little bit of time and distance to get there, but eventually I make it.)

Bruce never actually spelled it out, he just lived it, and I will always be thankful for this aspect of our relationship. Because of him… because of my ‘other half’, I have learned to appreciate all of the relationships in my life… all of the lessons learned… all of the smiles and all of the tears. Without every single one of them, I would still be the same person I used to be… rather than becoming the person I am meant to be.
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Grief is a daily challenge that changes us in ways we could never foresee, making this journey a difficult path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone.

Peace, Love, and Grief – What Goes into Relationships

I can’t tell you how many times since Bruce died someone has suggested or questioned my lack of dating or attempting to find another romantic relationship. Usually my response is, “Well, I’ve had the worst of the worst and the best of the best, and I don’t want to settle for anything less that the best.”

That isn’t a lie… but it also isn’t the entire truth.

You see, I have never been able to figure out why or how mine and Bruce’s relationship worked so well, especially when both of our first marriages turned out so bad. Not to mention that I have never felt confident in my ability to be discerning about romantic partners. (There is also the fact that I still love Bruce, and I am very content in my life.)

For years, I have felt that maybe the reason Bruce and I “worked” as a couple was because we had the same “love languages”. (If you don’t know what that is, “love languages” are 5 basic ways that people feel and express love. The ideas come from a book, by Gary Chapman, written to help couples create better connections with each other through those five distinct “love languages”.) For Bruce and I, our languages were a mix of touch and time. Since they were the same, it was easy to express and feel loved with each other.

This week, though, I read something that really opened my eyes. It was about relationships… all relationships – not just romantic ones. This one little paragraph held so much truth and raw wisdom, that for the first time, I finally understand why some of my relationships have worked and others have either fizzled or gone horribly wrong.

According to the wisdom of the indigenous clan mothers, there are basic ingredients that must be the foundations of a successful relationship. These are respect, trust, and intimacy. Then, these three work together to create the fourth, which is unity.

The principle goes like this… You must respect each other to create real trust. Then, you must respect and trust each other in order to willingly open up your hearts and the deepest parts of your souls – intimacy (which is not always sexual intimacy). Then… and only then, can there be unity – the idea of working together for common goals.

Suddenly, I can see, for example, why my first marriage couldn’t work. I can’t speak for my ex, but for me, I didn’t respect him. My religion (not my faith) taught that I should respect him simply because he was a man, and he was my partner. However, I couldn’t respect someone that I feared. For over 20 years, I tried to be a “good wife”, but that was born out of fear – never respect.

I, also, didn’t trust him – I spent years watching behavior that showed me over and over that he was not trustworthy… I knew what he was capable of doing – not just to me, but to almost anyone in his circle. He was a great salesperson and a fantastic storyteller, especially when it came to “selling/presenting” himself. However, it was all more smoke and mirrors than anything else.

Intimacy, however, was where I messed up. I kept thinking that if I opened my heart… if I shared what was deep in my soul, then maybe we could build our relationship on that. Maybe he would believe that I wanted a good relationship… a good marriage. What I didn’t understand at the time was that without the respect and trust, my opening up to him was simply fodder to be used against me at a later time… So eventually, I stopped sharing anything deeply personal, because the cost was too great.

When Bruce came along, though, it was completely different. We started with respect… from the very beginning, when we met on the cruise. I remember one night asking him if he wanted to join my son and I for dinner, and he said, “You came on this cruise to spend time with your son, and I want to respect that. Enjoy your dinner and your time together. I’ll come find you, once he has gone to hang out with his friends.”

I was so shocked and completely impressed! He not only respected my relationship with my family, he also understood and encouraged it… and that never changed.

From there, trust came naturally and in its own time. I will admit that he was much quicker with the trust part than I was. I had spent too many years reading body language for signs of the storm about to hit and second guessing every promise or plan. However, Bruce never wavered. He held steady… He was gentle… He was patient… And in time, I came to know that he was not like any other man I had ever known… My trust in him was absolute and complete.

So… The respect was immediate… The trust was building… and the intimacy came naturally. There was no trying to decide if it was safe or okay to open up… I knew it was, and he knew it was, and in no time at all, we were a solid unified front. We both knew we could count on the other. We both knew that even when conversations were hard or there was an argument the foundation of our marriage was strong… We always knew that no matter what, we would be okay.

I don’t know if this was something Bruce knew intellectually or if it was just built into him. All I know is that he led the way and showed me how to build a relationship that was loving… a relationship that was solid. He showed me what it feels like to love “the best of the best” … And I will always be thankful that I got to experience this kind of love, because even if it was only for a short time, the memories of that love will be with me always.

“When we continue to create respect, trust, intimacy, and unity through our devotion to others, and their well-being, we have a foundation that cannot be eroded.” ~ Jamie Sams, Earth Medicine
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Grief is a daily challenge that changes us in ways we could never foresee, making this journey a difficult path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone.

This is a weekly blog; for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief

Peace, Love, and Grief – Life Choices

Two things about last week… I spent the weekend with family having a marvelous time. I think… No, I know, after losing Bruce, I realized just how precious each moment spent with loved ones truly is, so I savored every precious moment. I hope you understand that and also understand that while I had stuff to say here, focusing on my time there was what I needed to do.

That was the first thing… The second thing is about the stuff I wanted to say here… and since time was on my side, here I am.

I spent the week before last reading a book called, The Measure, by Nikki Erlick. (If you haven’t read it, I highly recommend it. If you have read it, then you can probably guess why I am mentioning it here.)

The premise of the book is that each person receives a box on their 22nd birthday with a note that states, “The measure of your life lies within.” Inside the box is a string, which accurately predicts the length of that person’s life.

Soon, the world is divided into “Long Stringers” and “Short Stringers”. As often happens in this human world whenever there is a difference among us, one group is determined to be “better” and the other is suddenly “less than”. (Kind of like the old Dr. Suess book about Sneetches.) This isn’t anything new. It is a phenomenon that has been around throughout history. And that judgement has been based on anything from skin color to gender to religion to nationality. If there are humans, there is “them” vs “us”.

This book simply finds a way to point it our human obsession with division in a way that is unlikely to ever be true, allowing the reader to process the information without feeling guilty or called out on our own judgements.

In the story, it is the Short Stringers who do not “measure up”. They are the ones left fighting for an equal chance at life. For example, economically, they are denied bank loans and good jobs. Socially, most people don’t want to be involved with someone who they know will die first, and the relationships that involve both types of strings present a whole new list of circumstances to wade through.

I wasn’t far into the book before I started thinking about how Bruce would have been a Short Stringer, and I would be a Long Stringer. There were times when I had to put the book down and just process the ridiculousness of measuring the worth of life simply by its length with no thought to how that a person might impact the world… no thought to how (perhaps) a person might die so that someone else can survive. Usually, we would call these people heroes, but in this book, how many lives were now cut short out of society’s fear and need to control… How many times do our own real-life actions do the same?

Bruce was my hero. His impact on myself and my kids will have an effect for generations to come. That is a life well-lived. His non-judgmental, unconditional love changed my life and changed my kids’ lives, which means it likely changed not just the grandchildren’s lives but also anyone we encounter… and the people they encounter.

Like the pebble thrown into a lake, the ripples he created move outward in larger and larger circles still. What a legacy he left behind! He didn’t have to preach to do it; he just made the choice to quietly live a life filled with compassion and kindness. Again… my hero.

“That the beginning and the end may have been chosen for us, the string already spun, but the middle had always been left undetermined, to be woven and shaped by us.” ~ Nikki Erlick, The Measure

So, when I said that I had to put the book down at times just to process what I was reading, I’m not kidding. Throughout the book, the characters, both Long and Short Stringers are constantly challenged with choices, and just like in our current world, a lot of the choices that might seem ordinary to some are monumental to others.

In my own life, this was made most clear after Bruce died. So many things in life that I had simply taken for granted, were suddenly blocked as I was unexpectedly forced to manage life on my own. Suddenly, I knew what it was like to be the “unseen” … the “less worthy”. I wasn’t those things. I knew I wasn’t, but there were so many circumstances where that was the how I was treated.

It took a long time working with a wonderful life coach and several therapists for me to learn how to stand my own ground… to hold my own space… to know that Bruce was right all those years when he would tell me that I held the key within myself – I am the one that teaches the world how to treat me when I either lay down and give in or stand up and keep my head high… and he always encouraged me to hold my head high. Again… my hero.

“I arise in the morning torn between a desire to save the world and a desire to savor the world. That makes it hard to plan the day.” ~ Nikki Erlick, The Measure

So even though I closed that book for the last time a week ago, its impact has continued to be on my mind all week. I keep thinking about Bruce’s “short string” and my (evidently) “long string”. I don’t know if most of us will ever realize the impact of our “ordinary” lives on the world… I don’t think Bruce did. However, I pray that my impact will be at least half of what his was, because despite the brevity, his was a life very well lived.
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Grief is a daily challenge that changes us in ways we could never foresee, making this journey a difficult path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone.

Peace, Love, and Grief – The Pain of Grief

I had a rough day this week… Just one… But still… All of us here know how hard those days can be. While I’m not exactly sure what the trigger was, because I just woke up that way. Maybe a dream? I don’t know. I just know I struggled all day.

I realized it right away and knew that I should not be around people if I could avoid it. Thank goodness, I work from home most days, so that was a help. I simply closed myself in my office and kept my head down… “This will pass,” I kept telling myself… And (thankfully), it did.

However, that raw pain I was feeling took me back to those original days… Those early days after Bruce died when I was completely caught up in my own pain. It was a pain so deep… so completely encompassing that I couldn’t see anything or anyone else. And the part I had not expected was that the pain wasn’t just emotional… There was true physical pain, as well.

It probably sounds crazy, but my heart literally hurt… and breathing… hurt. There were so many times when I thought, “This is how a person dies of a broken heart, because this hurts!”

I didn’t die… obviously. However, a big part of me did… a huge chunk of my soul was suddenly gone. What was left felt like a shell of what had been… I no longer felt like me.

Losing your soulmate feels like your soul has been ripped out –
Leaving nothing but a shell.
A shell that breathes and moves
But feels no hope…
Not any more…
~ Linda, October 2013

I went through the motions of life, but I wasn’t living… not really. I also found myself offended by everything… If someone tried to comfort me, I was offended. If someone ignored my pain, I was offended. If someone wanted to tell me what I should do, I was offended. If someone failed to tell me what I should do, I was offended. I have no idea why, but I was offended by all of it.

I know I said things that I shouldn’t have. I know I wrote things here that I shouldn’t have. I was a mess and my response to everything and everyone seemed to be anger and distrust… Here’s the thing about that… When that is what we are putting out into the world, that is exactly what we will get in return.

It took me a long time to realize that and get some help. It has taken years to find myself again… To learn to trust again… To realize that as people, we are all just trying to do our best, (at least most of the time) … And as long as I keep that in mind, life is a lot better.

This week, though, when I had that day, I found that all of those old feelings of anger and distrust were right under the surface. It would have been so easy to just dump it out on everyone around me.

Thank heavens for all the people who have loved me enough to stick around… (and the years of therapy) … Because even though I had those same feelings, I was able to recognize it. I didn’t know how to stop the pain, but I was definitely able to not spread it.

Maybe that is how the pain of grief works… It’s always there, just under the surface. Yet, as time passes, we get better at realizing when it rears its head up and threatens to take over. And with that knowledge, we are better able to take a breath and work through it in a way that doesn’t hurt the people around us… Maybe…
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Grief is a daily challenge that changes us in ways we could never foresee, making this journey a difficult path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone.

This is a weekly blog; for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief

Peace, Love, and Grief – Connections

“In your light I learn how to love. In your beauty, how to make poems. You dance inside my chest where no-one sees you, but sometimes I do, and that sight becomes this art.” ~ Rumi

– – – – – –

I’m not sure why, but this morning I was reminded of one of the first arguments Bruce and I had. We didn’t argue often, so I can remember most of them pretty clearly… But that first one stands out always stands out for me…

We were living in Michigan, and I had recently started a (temporary) retail job meant to bring in some kind of income while I looked for something that was more permanent and aligned with my passions. It was Saturday. I had worked a full day by myself in the store, which meant no breaks, and I was exhausted. Bruce was off and was preparing dinner when I came home.

For the life of me, I don’t remember what we argued about, but it happened right away. He said something (who knows what) and I reacted with tears (of course), before leaving the room and going to sit down in the living room a few feet away.

I hadn’t argued back… At that point, I was still living in the shell-shocked mode of someone who was used to keeping her mouth shut to avoid an explosion of more anger or violence from the other person. It felt safer to simply close up inside myself and walk away… and so I did. In my mind, I was already thinking back to experiences in my first marriage and reprimanding myself with statements like, “Here we go again” and “How did I end up here again?”

I sat there in the dark with my eyes closed, wishing I could be anywhere but there… doing anything but this.

Next thing I knew, I opened my eyes and there he was beside me. He lifted his hand… and I flinched – waiting to be hit or shoved or whatever. Instead, he handed me a tissue. Then, he took my hands and leaned in, placing his forehead against my own.

“You okay?” he asked.

I shrugged – unable to talk with sobbing. Without a word, he took me in his arms, and we just sat there for a while – no one saying a word. Once my breathing slowed down, he took reached up and lifted my chin so that he could look me in the eyes.

“It’s okay to disagree,” he started. “We’re going to disagree… But disagreeing doesn’t mean that things between us are over. It doesn’t mean you have to give me my way… And it definitely doesn’t mean I’m going to respond by hurting you.”

I remember looking at those wonderfully, gentle eyes and asking, “So, what do we do now?”

He grinned and said, “We talk… We find some common ground and we start there. Then, we find a way to meet somewhere in the middle… somewhere that works for both of us – in a way that we can both live with… It’s not all me and it’s not all you… It’s about us.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” I sighed and took a deep breath. “This feels really hard.”

“It might be… Sometimes it absolutely will be hard… But it’s worth it. We’re worth… Our marriage… our relationship… It’s worth the hard work.”

He was so right! It took me years, to become comfortable with those hard conversations, but it was definitely worth it.

– – – – – –

“Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts… but pouring them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away.” ~ Anonymous Shoshone Tribal Member

– – – – – –

So why am I telling you this today? Because, somehow in today’s society, we’ve forgotten this. I look around and I see so many of people who only want to have relationships with people who think just like them… As if there is no more room for different thoughts or opinions… And that makes me so sad.

I hear how people talk to and about other people who think differently about religion or politics, and it isn’t nice. There is rarely any compassion or motivation to understand each other… “Meeting in the middle” or finding that space where we can compromise and find a livable space for all of us seems like a forgotten art.

However, that isn’t how life is meant to be. No one person has all the answers. No one person is right all the time… And no relationship can be solid if conversation and talking through differences isn’t on the table… Instead, it is up to each of us to offer compassion… to listen so that we can find common ground and work to build a relationship with understanding and compassion as the foundation.

Good relationships will never mean no arguments. It means caring enough about each other and our communities to work through the hard stuff without giving up… It means growing as a couple or as individuals as we figure out how to “meet in the middle” somewhere… It means that every person is important, and we need to remember how to live in a way that lets every person’s light shine.

– – – – – –

“Don’t you know yet? It is your light that lights the worlds.” ~ Rumi
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Grief is a daily challenge that changes us in ways we could never foresee, making this journey a difficult path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone.

This is a weekly blog; for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief

Peace, Love, and Grief – My Thoughts

Growing up, I thought grief was something you only experienced when someone you love dies. Somehow, I also got the message that as Christians, we should celebrate and not be sad because they “have gone to a better place to be with God and the angels”. Grief and sadness were presented as almost sinful in many ways.

This led to many conflicting emotions growing up and even into adulthood… What do you call it when you move away from your family and friends? Or when the family pet passes away? Or when your life suddenly changes in ways that require you to put your plans and dreams aside? What do you do with the unbelievably sad emotions experienced at the loss of a child from miscarriage or the loss of a grandparent?

I had no words for any of that loss and sadness. Instead, I felt shame and confusion… I couldn’t celebrate, and I didn’t understand how these emotions were bad. But rather than sharing those feelings and risking the reactions of others, I tried to hold those things in.

Was I successful? Probably not… But it was the only way I had been shown to deal with it.

So, when Bruce died, I was at a total and complete loss. I had never learned to truly deal with any grief, other than to pretend it wasn’t there. I couldn’t do that this time, though, which has made this journey that much longer.

From the beginning, I started looking for ways to work through grief… I read every book and article and listened to every video and podcast I could find on the topic. And it wasn’t long before I learned that I would need to go back and re-process the grief from all those past losses while I was working on processing my grief for Bruce.

It has been a long arduous journey, and I guess, today I just want to share some quick thoughts on the things I have been told vs the way grief has played out for me in reality.

1. “Life moves on” … Yes, life for the rest of the world keeps moving, and to some extent I had to start finding my way in it right away. However, my life was at a standstill. I struggled to simply keep waking up in the morning. My life had literally collapsed. The world as I knew it was over. Setting new goals and establishing new dreams for a future alone were some of the hardest things I had to learn to do.

2. “This is your ‘new normal’” … I hate that phrase. Yes, this is what life has dealt me, but there is absolutely nothing normal about it. That is like saying that climbing a sheer rockface without gear is normal. No… it isn’t normal. It feels wildly dangerous and every move feels life-threatening in some way. Living life as a widow is not normal. It is simply where I find myself, and I have learned to “climb this cliff” carefully – feeling my way while taking it one slow movement at a time.

3. “You need to let them go” … Our love was not and is not a switch on the wall. It cannot be turned on and off at will. In fact, I don’t know that it is something I will ever be able to simply “turn off”. I believe Bruce (and my love for him) will always be a part of me. So maybe for some of us, “good-bye” is actually a life-long process… Or maybe it isn’t good-bye at all, but more of a “see you later”.

4. “You can always remarry” … While very similar to #3, this one has always been more repugnant to me. This was the love of my life – not a broken coffee mug. You can’t simply “replace” a person. I remember when I lost little baby Matthew, and people said, “You can always have more.” Yes, I did have more, but not one of them was baby Matthew. Each person and each relationship is unique – trying to replace or swap one for another does not seem healthy to my way of thinking.

5. “Time heals” … That’s laughable. Sure, I have learned to manage my grief better. I have learned more appropriate ways and times to express my grief. However, the pain of losing Bruce is just as strong and real as it was the night he died. Time hasn’t healed anything. Instead, it has simply given me enough experience to learn how to live with my feet in both worlds – the world of grief and the world of life.

6. “The stages of grief are a path” … First of all, my understanding is that these were initially written to give voice to the stages a person experiences when they learn they are dying. Over time, people started applying these same stages to all grief, which in a lot of ways makes sense. However, if you think for one minute that they present one at a time and in order, that is a fallacy. Yes… at some point you will experience all of them, but it is not a clear, straight forward path. It is more like a jumbled up, knotted ball of string. You get what you get at any given time, and (hopefully) you figure that part out before you encounter the next jumbled up mess.

I am sure there are more of these, and I am sure I will think of more as soon as I post this. Yet, these are the ones that have hit me hard this week. Phrases that others love to say, thinking they are being helpful, and with zero understanding that each person’s path and experience is different… and the best we can (and should) offer is patience and love while those sitting in grief find their next step.
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Grief is a daily challenge that changes us in ways we could never foresee, making this journey a difficult path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone.

This is a weekly blog; for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief

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