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Peace, Love and Grief… Please, don’t say that

Do Not Tell Me
Do not tell me how to feel;
my feelings are my own.
Do not tell me to stop my grief;
my grief is my own.
Do not tell me what Bruce would want me to do;
Bruce was my own.
He was my love…
and still is.
My pain is here and always will be.
There is no end to our love,
and there is no end to the pain.
~ Linda, January 20, 2015

A couple of months ago, I wrote about how some people will compare grief and loss between people who are grieving in the belief that they are offering comfort in some way… but it’s not comforting. In response to that blog, I have had several people respond that they, too, have encountered that same conversation on more than one occasion (with the same effect).

I mentioned in that same blog that there are other things that have been said that also have the same effect. That is my topic this week… another “please don’t.” By writing this, I don’t want to sound angry or bitter (because I’m not). I do want people to understand that some “standard phrases” that are commonly used when dealing with mourners are actually hurtful. But if we don’t say anything, how will others know?

Another phrase that I have a hard time hearing is “Bruce would want you to…” or “Bruce wouldn’t want you to…” Don’t get me wrong, when I hear this from someone who knew Bruce and loved him, that is fine… In fact, I will listen to what they have to say. (I may not do what they say, but I will listen and consider it.)

What I am referring to today is different. I am referring to someone who either barely knew Bruce or (even more frustrating) did not know him at all. How could someone who did not know him possibly begin to tell me what Bruce would want or not want? I realize that what they are really telling me is their own opinion… what they think I should do.

But they don’t stop there. Instead, they attempt to give their opinion more “authority” by using Bruce’s name. I appreciate their concern. However, by using the emotion attached to Bruce’s name it feels extremely disrespectful… It feels manipulative… It feels completely wrong.

The first year, I would get very upset but I wouldn’t say anything. I was struggling with so many emotions, but I wanted to be polite. So… I would let the conversation continue. However, somewhere in the second year, I started to turn my thought process around.

I began to look deeper into what was being said, and I began to realize that people meant well… They just didn’t know any better. Perhaps, they hadn’t really thought it through. So, what I am trying to achieve today is an understanding of why this particular phrase should be limited to the people who really knew and loved the deceased.

For example…

Earlier this year a childhood friend stopped by while passing through town. We spent some time together reminiscing and talking about what has transpired for each of us since we were children. During our conversation, he asked about losing Bruce and what life was like now. I honestly don’t mind talking about it, so I shared my thoughts, experiences and frustrations. I mentioned the fact that people say things without realizing how hurtful it is. At that point, he told that if he were to do that, he wanted me to be honest enough to tell him.

A few days later, on the anniversary of Bruce’s death, he called to express his condolences for the day and to ask how my girls and I had spent the day. During the brief conversation, he made a comment that “this would be the year Bruce would want me to move on.”

REALLY? I had not seen this person since I was a teenager… He never even met Bruce. How could he say that? What could he possibly know about Bruce and what he might want? Since I had been given permission, I was honest and spoke up (for the first time ever). “Please don’t say that,” I said. “It really bothers me. You never knew him… You can’t know what he would or wouldn’t want.” He apologized and said he understood. To be honest, I don’t know if he really understood or not. I hope he did.

For me, that was a hard step. It felt really awkward to ask someone not to say something. It felt rude even though they had told me to do exactly that. Since that day, I have had this conversation with only a few people… only those who have given me permission to say something. I won’t correct just anyone. However, when those phrases are used by someone who shouldn’t, a wall of defense automatically goes up… I can’t help it. I will get quiet and try to end the conversation. In that moment, all I want to do is get away.

On the other hand, when I am with my kids, it is not uncommon to hear the phrase “Bruce would want ____” several times a day (from all of us). It is just a natural part of the conversation. And believe it or not, I am perfectly okay with that.

Why? Because they knew him. That is the only difference but it is one that matters. They knew him, spent time with him and loved him. Their opinion of what he might or might not want is completely valid… so I listen. I may or may not agree, but I am not offended. Instead, I am grateful for their loving honesty.

So here is the bottom line… When it comes to telling someone what their loved one would or would not want:

⦁ FIRST ask yourself, “Did I know that person?”
⦁ And “Did I know them well enough to know what they would or wouldn’t want?”
⦁ If the answer to BOTH of these questions is “yes”,
⦁ AND your relationship with the mourner is good and solid,
⦁ THEN… PERHAPS, it is okay to say it.
⦁ However, if the answer to ANY of these is “no”, then… “Please, don’t say that.”

Because this is OUR community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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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Peace, Love and Grief… What about the ring?

What to do about the ring? That has been one of the quandaries for me since Bruce passed… but not his ring – mine. When Bruce died, I was handed the only jewelry he ever wore (and never took off) – his wedding band and a silver anchor necklace. Immediately, I slipped his wedding band onto the chain and placed it around my neck where it has remained ever since.

As for my wedding band, I didn’t even think about it for almost a year. I still felt married so for a long time it never even occurred to me to “do” anything with my ring. Over time I began to notice that different widows did different things in regards to their wedding bands. Some took it off immediately. Others moved it to their right hand, wore it on a chain around their neck or had it made into a different piece of jewelry. However, others just continued wearing it… I continued wearing it.

For me, I just couldn’t bring myself to take off my ring… it meant too much to me. When Bruce asked me to marry him, we went to pick out rings and the conversation went something like this:

Bruce – What kind of ring do you want?

Me – Real.

Bruce just laughed. He had heard the story before. After I divorced my first husband, I took my wedding and engagement rings to a jeweler to see if I could trade the value of the rings towards a Mother’s ring with the birthstones of my children. The jeweler kept talking about the value of the gold but not the diamond. Finally I asked, “What about the diamond?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” she said. “The stone isn’t even cubic zirconia… It’s glass.”

GLASS??? That poor jeweler must have thought I was crazy, because I just started laughing. My ex-husband had gotten the last laugh after all. All those years of hearing him talk about the beautiful diamond in that ring, and I could have been cleaning it with Windex. (That story still makes me laugh!)

Anyway, with Bruce, I actually picked a small marquis cut diamond set in white gold. Bruce asked me why I wanted such a small stone. I explained that my hands are pretty small so a large stone just looks funny. Plus, with all the sailing we did, a large stone would probably get in the way.

A few months later while packing to move from SC to MI to get married, Bruce flew down to help the kids and I pack. At the end of the last day, he asked me to walk with him out on the dock for “some quiet time and one last look at the water.” As we sat watching the sun set over the river, he took my hand and looking at it said “Something’s missing.” Then, he took out a ring and placed it on my finger. It was the same ring I had chosen with one exception… it was a larger stone than the one I had picked. I looked at him with tears in my eyes. “It’s bigger,” I said.

“I don’t want you to ever doubt how valuable you are to me,” he said. “I want you to always look at this ring and know without a doubt that you are my world.”

A few weeks later when he placed the wedding band on my finger, I realized immediately that he had done it again. I had picked a simple band, not wanting to “break the bank.” (After all, he was taking on a wife and 4 kids… that was going to have enough impact on the finances.) But what he gave me was a beautiful wrap with 6 small diamonds to surround my engagement ring. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen… and even more beautiful because of the love that came with it.

(After the wedding, we had the two rings soldered together so it was actually one solid ring.)

With all of these beautiful memories in mind, I didn’t want to take this ring off. Everyday, I would look at it and remember how much I had been loved, and how much I had loved him. It was a material representation of what we had… I couldn’t let go… I just couldn’t.

After the first year, I began to realize that while the ring brought me comfort, it also created some awkward conversations. Inevitably, someone would notice the ring and ask about my husband. I would answer that my husband had passed away and the conversation immediately became awkward. Caught off guard, people didn’t know how to respond, but I didn’t know how to answer any different. I came to realize that for my own sake, I needed to do SOMETHING different.

Doing what I usually do, I started with some research. Immediately, I found that there is no such thing as “widow’s ring etiquette.” There is no etiquette on what to do and when to do it. The bottom line is each person does what feels right for them… and what feels right at one point may change over time.

Eventually, I came upon something called a “widow’s ring.” While this tradition is rarely followed in the US today, it can be traced back to Victorian Europe (maybe earlier). A widow’s ring is set with dark stones and worn either in place of or with the original wedding set.

At this point, I decided to place my setting on Bruce’s chain and wear them both around my neck. My finger felt so empty as I started my hunt for the perfect ring. I didn’t have anything in particular in mind. I just knew without a doubt when I saw it, I would know.

Sure enough, seven months into my search, I found the perfect ring last week in Mexico. I knew it the moment I saw it. It was nothing like I had imagined but I knew immediately that this was the perfect symbol to represent our life together.
It is not dark stones at all. (I think that would have been too sad, too negative and definitely not a representation of Bruce and me.) It is a beautiful blue/violet tanzanite… the color of the ocean where we met and spent so much time sailing, as well as the sky we dreamed under. The stone is surrounded by a triangle – the symbol of strength, hope, spirituality, past/ present/ future and both the masculine and feminine (depending on the direction it points).

I was searching for a widow’s ring, but that is not what I found. I found something I prefer to call a “life ring.” Why? Because it perfectly represents Bruce and I – our life before we met, while we were together and as we wait to be together again. I love it! It feels absolutely perfect.

So, here I am two years and five months into this journey and a symbol of the life Bruce and I share(d) is in place… one more hurdle jumped successfully.

Because this is OUR community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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 lessons in Jamaica

When this blog posts (a day late), I will have just returned from a beautiful week-long cruise with one of my daughters, her husband and my grandson. However, as I am starting to write, I am sitting in a hotel in Alabama contemplating the remainder of my drive to the NOLA port and the upcoming cruise.

While I am excited to have time to relax with people I love, I am a little bit anxious… this is my first cruise since Bruce passed. Cruises were our thing… We met on a cruise, honey mooned on a cruise, cruised with my daughter and her husband on their honey moon. (It was fair. She went on our honey moon cruise, too. : ) ) In fact, when we lived in Michigan, we had a sailboat with a small cabin, and spent many summer weekends on our own mini cruises.

But that is only part of my anxiety about this cruise… When you are grieving, most “firsts” without your loved one are encountered during the first year. Yet, here I am 2+ years later experiencing another first.

The Christmas before Bruce passed, we gave each other a trip to Jamaica which we scheduled for March. Bruce had been before and was so excited to take me and show me around. (He had planned every detail from a beach side bungalow and had a romantic, private, beach side dinner to day trips all over the island.) But that trip never happened… he died a few weeks after Christmas. I couldn’t bring myself to go alone, so I cancelled that trip… not sure if Jamaica would ever be in my future.

This cruise, however, makes a stop in Jamaica. I am excited to finally get there, but it is bittersweet to go without Bruce.Thankfully, I will still be with people I love.

This is my journal entry for that day and the lesson life taught me in Jamaica…

Day 3 – Montego Bay:

Today we are in Jamaica. We docked in Montego Bay while we were eating breakfast. This morning I was so nervous and anxious about this port of call that I was sick to my stomach. My grandson chatted all through breakfast telling me all about the island – its national bird, the flag, and everything else his mother taught him in preparation for this trip. By 9 AM, we were off the boat, sitting on our tour bus and I was feeling calmer. We had a 2.5 hour drive ahead of us as we headed to the other side of the island for a tour of the Appleton Rum Estate and Distillery.

The tour guide, who called herself “Momma”, asked if anyone was prone to car or motion sickness. Everyone on the bus laughed (unknowingly) at the question. However, no one seemed to feel it was an issue, and soon we were on our way with “Momma” pointing out the sights as we passed through the city. Within minutes, however, we were leaving the city and starting the climb into the steep hills. “Momma” told us to relax… “Poppa”, our bus driver, was the best around and for us not to worry. Then, (bless her heart) she chattered and sang for the next 2 hours in an effort to both educate and distract us.

It didn’t take very long for all of us to realize exactly how precarious this drive was. The roads were narrow, winding and filled with potholes. There were no guardrails on the edges of the road and sometimes there wasn’t even room for 2 cars to pass… just a honk of the horn to tell the on-coming driver that it was “our turn.”

I was sitting near the back by a window. My view was either straight up the moutain or straight down. At times we were so close to the jungle that we literally drove through some of the bushes or hit the low hanging branches. (And God protect the pedestrians who were walking along the road, as well.)

People began to quiet down and just watch the road… some were even video-taping this adventure. Me? I fell asleep! When I awoke a while later, it dawned on me that here I was in Jamaica, and I had just stumbled onto another lesson on this journey of life – one that Bruce had demonstrated so many times before.

Bruce was someone who studied different philosophies constantly. I believe that is why he was such a calm, spiritual person. Nothing seemed to phase him. I, on the other hand, have always been a worrier. (Maybe I still am, but that is where this story fits in.) One philosophy that he brought up quite a bit was from the Tao. Whenever, I was worried, he would tell a story about a river. As the river flows along and encounters a rock in its path, it does not try to move the rock. Instead, the river simply flows around it (or over it) and keeps moving.

Jamaicans have the same philosophy in one phrase… “No problem, mon.” They will tell you there are no problems… only situations. There is always some good in the situation or something to be learned from it. Therefore, it is “no problem.”

Riding in the bus today, I realized that my worrying is really a trust issue. According to my faith, I am supposed to trust, but that has never come easy for me. I am a list person – I like a plan… I want to know what is ahead. However, throughout my adult life more often than not, my plans and lists have not become my reality. In fact, every time I think I am getting it all together, God (the universe or whatever you wish to call it) has laughed and changed things entirely.

Before I lost Bruce, I was always able to get back up, brush myself off, and start again – faith still intact. However, when I lost Bruce, I completely lost my trust in God. I felt so abandoned and angry… Trusting God was not happening… I just couldn’t do it.

Several people who have already been down this road have told me this is normal – not to worry – I would figure it out in due time. In the meantime, God’s shoulders were big enough to handle it and still love me.

However, so many other people were appalled and told me that I had to stop feeling the way I did – I had to trust God. There is a problem with that idea though… emotions are not attached to switches and dials. They have to be processed and worked through – not “turned off” or shoved down just because someone says so. That is where I have been.

But back to the bus ride…

While on the bus, I watched those people who were scrutinizing every move our driver made. For all the world, it appeared they would have loved nothing more than to give our driver, Poppa, instructions on how to do this right (aka – their way). But despite all their video tapes, gasps and comments, Poppa kept right on doing things his own way. The result? We arrived at the estate perfectly fine and with quite an adventure to share and remember.

I realized then that this is the way I have been trying to live my life since Bruce died… wanting to trust God, but hanging on and trying to stay in control for dear life – not trusting Him enough to relax and enjoy whatever might come next.

I also realized that I need to live my life more like I was on the bus. There were a few of us in the back, who realized right away that we really had no other option but to trust the driver. So we sat back, watched the scenery and actually saw the beauty of Jamaica and rested – safe in the knowledge that Poppa knew what he was doing much better than we ever could. In other words, I need trust the God that I say I believe in. I need to realize that even when the road is scary, he can handle it. He knows much better than I do, and I can rest – secure in the knowledge that he is in charge… so I don’t need to be.

As I write this, we are leaving Montego Bay, a place Bruce wanted to share with me. I think he still did… and I think that maybe I finally understand what he was trying to help me learn all those years…

If you want to live the life you are meant to live, then there really is no other option except to trust…

Because this is OUR community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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… The value I couldn’t see

Recent research has shown that 2 out of 3 people have low self-esteem. WOW! That is quite a number! (And losing sight of your own value as a human being is quite a loss.) There are many things that feed into how we feel about ourselves but evidently many of us are buying into some pretty negative ideas. I grew up feeling loved and as a child, I remember feeling extremely confident. I have no idea at what point I lost that or why. I could play psychologist and wager a guess, but it would be exactly that – a guess.

I do know that by the time I met my first husband, my self esteem was already low… he didn’t create it. But because I didn’t value myself, I accepted that fact that he didn’t either. I spent many years accepting behaviors that should never have been tolerated… but I didn’t believe in my own value enough to set a boundary or have higher expectations.
After my first marriage ended, as I mentioned a few weeks ago, I had a lot of healing to do. I worked hard and I made progress, but always in the back of my mind was “His” voice saying, “The world would spin a lot easier if you weren’t on it.”

Bruce, however, saw me in a different light… His perspective became something I clung to when that other voice got too loud. I remember one day, soon after we were married. We were sitting on the barstools at the kitchen counter. I don’t remember what triggered the conversation, I only remember the miracle of his response.

I was feeling down on myself, and he was trying to understand why. (God bless him!) I took a piece of notebook paper, crumpled it into a ball and smoothed it back out. Then, I repeated that process several times. The paper looked like a crumpled mess… definitely a piece of trash.

“I feel like this is me,” I said. “Nothing but someone else’s piece of trash and you got stuck with someone else’s trash (me).”

Bruce sat quietly for a moment or two, never one to be rushed – always one to think things through before speaking. I don’t know what I expected to hear or if I even expected anything, but what he said next was a turning point for me.

Gently, he took a clean piece of paper from the stack and set it beside that crumpled paper. Then, as he touched the clean paper, he said, “I don’t think that at all.” Slowly, he tore off a corner of the clean paper and placed it in the center of the crumpled paper. “You may see all of this when you look at yourself,” he said as he gestured to the crumpled paper. “But when I look at you, all I see is this.” And he gently touched the clean piece he had laid in the center.

Why am I telling this story? Because after that, with Bruce’s unconditional love, I began to rebuild my own thought process about myself. It was a slow process and there were still some major gaps but I was moving forward… until that day in January of 2013 when my world fell apart.

When Bruce passed, I felt like I had been abandoned. I couldn’t understand why God would let this happen. Why did I have to spend so many years with someone who couldn’t love me and only a few short years with someone who loved me beyond all reason? Emotionally, I fell backwards about 10 years in regards to my self-worth and value. I couldn’t seem to believe in my own value anymore… If God didn’t see me as valuable, how could I? My self-esteem fell lower and lower. I couldn’t seem to pick myself up… not alone… not by myself.

Then, I met a wonderful woman who worked with me as a coach (and is still a dear, dear friend). By asking all the right questions (some that were initially infuriating), she helped me realize I had spent most of my life letting other people shape my thoughts about myself. When I was married to Bruce, it was positive shaping, but I was still giving that power to someone else. Until I learned to shape my own thoughts, I would always flounder with my own value… and that is a loss no one has to endure.

I started with an “Intentions” poster that still hangs in my bathroom. On it, I list short, encouraging phrases that build me up or encourage positive action. I, also, learned (and started implementing) the knowledge that just because someone says something, doesn’t make it true. I don’t have to take it in and make it a part of me. Shoot, I don’t even have to respond to it. Instead, I can realize that it is merely a reflection on them and their thought processes. I have the option to let it go… so I do.

There have been other epiphanies along this journey, and I have probably made the most progress in the last 8+ months as I become stronger in the knowledge that I have value. God never abandoned me or wanted me to hurt. He sent Bruce as a blessing… A starting point for my healing. God created me and loves me just as I am… He knows I am not perfect, but that is no surprise to him. He made me that way and loves me anyway. In fact, I am finally learning to love me just as I am, as well… Only this time it is not because someone else says I do or do not deserve it.

Losing Bruce was hard and losing myself in that process made it even harder. However, I know now that I am a whole person just as I am. Bruce always wanted me to know and believe that. Because of him, his love, his patience and his gentle nature, I am finally getting there.

I would have never thought that it would take grief for me to learn to see my own value. But life seems to teach us what we need to know wherever we are on our path.

Thank you, Babe, for always believing in me…

Because this is OUR community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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… We all have those days

Happiness is a daily choice…
Some days I am better at it than others.
~ Linda, January 26, 2015

Let me start by saying, “Yes, I am well aware that last week’s blog sounded like a pity party.” It was! I admit it… I even knew it when I posted it, but I posted it anyway. Why? Because it was real… And because if this blog is an honest look at how I deal with loss (my grief journey), then it needs to include the good and the bad. I have to be honest about those days when I can keep my attitude in check and those days when I don’t.

Yes, I was feeling sorry for myself, but whether you are grieving or not, most of us have days just like that. That is not a phenomenon only relevant to those grieving. We’ve all been there at some point. Therefore, it shouldn’t be hard to empathize when we see someone else going down that road.

Last week, I was very tempted to change the blog entirely and write it as if I had handled the day well, remained positive and had a “life lesson” for the world. I laugh though, because that would have been false. In fact, since it wouldn’t have been genuine, it may have sounded a bit preachy. (Yuck!) But worst of all, if I were not honest, someone else who was having a “feel-sorry-for-myself” kind of day might have felt they were wrong or unusual. That would go directly against what I hope to achieve with this blog… an understanding that feelings are feelings. They are neither right nor wrong. It is what you do with them that makes a difference in your life.

I guess I could be embarrassed about what I felt last week, but I feel that it is something we have all felt at one time or another – loss or no loss. I’m glad I simply put it out there, and I’m thankful for the people who contacted me and said they “got it” – they have had days just like that, too.

This is one way where a grief journey isn’t so different from any other journey. We all have challenges. We all have bumps in the road. Sometimes we can maneuver around them or gently roll over them without a problem, and other times they knock us to the other side of the road. There is no “wrong” on this journey… it is about doing the best you can day to day – moment to moment. Sometimes that isn’t a pretty picture – but it’s real.

After 2+ years of missing Bruce, I wish I had it all figured out. I wish I could say I am okay with my life every moment of every day… but I can’t… because I’m not. Who could? We all have frustrations and no one needs the added pressure of feigning perfection.

So what do you do with a day like that? Here’s a thought… “pity party” days are not healthy or positive, but they are normal. The trick lies in:

1. Recognizing it for what it is. It is a bad moment in time, but it doesn’t have to determine what comes next.

2.Not blaming anyone else for what you are feeling. No one controls your feelings but you. Someone may say or do something that affects you but you get to decide what to do with that.

And

3. Making the choice to get back on your feet and move past it. I know, it’s not as simple as it sounds but it is truly your choice and no one else’s.

Don’t get me wrong, I have days when I get to the end and I am proud of how I have handled my day. But I also have days when I look back and think, “Well, that wasn’t my best… but tomorrow is a new day.” I look at it this way – just the fact that I can recognize when I fall down, is a success… Because once I recognize it, I can start to pull out of it.

My point this week?

No matter what your path, we are not so different. We have more in common than we might care to acknowledge. No one has all the answers and that is more than okay with me. I want to be the best “me” possible – I strive for that. But I find it comforting to know I can learn to accept myself – warts and all. And deep down, I realize I like me… and I’m worth the work.

Furthermore, this week’s blog is not just for people dealing with physical loss. This week’s loss is more about losing your own perspective of yourself and the power within each of us to choose our attitude in each moment of each day.

Because this is OUR community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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… What to do with a day like today

I remember years ago when my kids were little and would ask what I wanted for Mother’s Day. I would always give the same response… I just wanted a day of quiet – a day all to myself. Well, this year I am spending my third Mother’s Day alone and let me tell you – it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I find myself longing for those days of endless chaos (and hugs). So, be careful what you wish for – you just might get it.

As I wrote today’s blog, I started to “pretty it up” and make it more positive. Then I stopped myself. If I am honest about what my grief journey entails then I need to be honest about this day, as well.

I love the fact that there is a day set aside to celebrate my Mom and Bruce’s Mom and all that they have done for us. Without the two of them, the “we” that was Bruce and I would never have been.

I, also, love that there is a day when my daughter is celebrated for being the fabulous mother that she is. My grandson is my whole heart, and as his mother, my daughter makes that happen.

My problem, however, comes when I try to apply the sentiment of the day to myself… This is where I struggle.

You see, in the processes of leaving my first marriage, meeting, loving and losing Bruce, there have been so many areas of my life in which I have grown and developed. However, Mother’s Day is a day I dread… There are emotions attached to this day that make breathing a struggle.

After I left my first marriage, I needed to come to terms with what had transpired over the years and how I had enabled those behaviors. I also had to accept the fact that my job as the mother was to protect my kids. While I thought I was protecting them at the time, the reality was different. They endured quite a bit at the hands of their father and as their mother, I failed to protect them.

Luckily, my kids turned out great (in spite of me)… but this is where my dread of Mother’s Day comes from… It comes from within myself.

For the first few years after my first marriage, we still lived in SC, so it was easy to center the day around my mother and grandmother… I could ignore my own dread and put my energy into loving them.

When I met Bruce, he listened to my thoughts and feelings but he had a completely different perspective. He saw me in a light without judgement. He wanted to celebrate what he called “the strength to leave” and likened it to the legend of a mother pelican.

On our first Mother’s Day together, after only 6 months of marriage, I didn’t expect anything from him. After all, ours was a “later in life” marriage. I wasn’t his mother nor the mother of his daughter. But he saw it differently. When I awoke that morning, he had a card waiting on his side of the bed. He was absolutely beaming when he handed it to me. (I still have that card… and every other one he ever gave me.) Inside was a beautiful message of love along with 3 tickets to the opera for that afternoon. : )

Imagine it… Here was my body-building, truck-driving, football-loving husband willing to spend the afternoon at the opera because he knew how much I would love it… and he included my daughter so that it was a “family affair” – exactly what the day was meant to be. While I am still uncomfortable with this day, I smile when I remember how he always insisted on celebrating me as a mother.

Flash forward to the first Mother’s Day after Bruce passed (May 2013). I found myself struggling in a different light. The kids have been grown and gone for years… and without Bruce, I was alone.

Rather than trying to explain how that feels, I am going to share a few excerpts from my journal over the last few years.

May 12, 2013:
* It is four months today… and Mother’s day… and I’m alone… it has been a really hard day. A few days ago I wrote that I thought I was still here for my kids, but today I am not so sure… they are grown and gone with lives and families of their own. They love me. (I know that without a doubt.)… But I would not say they need me.

* My biggest issue is that I need to stop looking to my kids for comfort… that is not their job and it is not fair to them. Bruce is gone. I am sad and I miss him more than I ever could have imagined – but those are my issues… no one else’s. I have to figure this out myself before I drive everyone off. I love them and they love me, but this will drive them away if I’m not careful… I need some courage – I am losing my confidence.

May 11, 2014:
* It’s Mother’s Day… I’m trying not to feel bad about being alone. I know we all live too far apart for anyone to come for just a day. (D and M will be here on Tuesday and are staying for a few weeks.) I just find that “special” days are hard now that they aren’t so “special” – just another day.

* I don’t want to be here alone. The kids have called or skyped… It’s funny how something so simple means so much. I know I’m not entitled to expect anything but it is nice to feel special.

May 10, 2015:
* Yuck! Mother’s Day #3 without you, Babe… alone…again.

* The kids have already started calling this morning which makes me smile. It is is still hard to accept – I wish I had been a better mom. If I could, I would do things different… Being a mom was the one thing I always wanted to do and be when I grew up… and I really managed to screw it up.

* Today is one of those days when I am hanging on by a thread. I feel myself slipping into a darkness that seems to surround every thought. I need to turn this thought process around. I am trying so hard not to fall down that rabbit hole of self-doubt and self-loathing today, but it is hard.

My reflections for today:
* I survived today. : )

* My grandson was my first call this morning and he lights up my whole world! I spoke to my kids, my mom, and Bruce’s mom – all of these people light up my world.

* I spent time at the beach – a space that was mine and Bruce’s. It was nice to enjoy the simple blessings of today.

* My neighbors reached out and invited me to dinner. They are wonderful friends who empathize with the challenges that go with widows and holidays. They are a constant source of support… and hugs!

* All in all, I still wish I could be physically with Bruce, my kids and my grandson, but that was not to be. However, God has provided the love and support that I needed to get through this Mother’s Day… I can be thankful for that.

In writing this today, I am not looking for anything really. I only want people to understand that if you know someone who has lost a person that connects to their “mother role”, please… reach out to them… they need you.

Because this is OUR community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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… It’s not a competition

Please…
Please don’t judge my grief;
Don’t compare it to someone else’s.
You see what I choose to let you see.
(Except in those moments when it overflows and pours from my soul.)
I may smile.
I may walk with my chin up,
But you do not know what pain is growing on the inside…
consuming my soul.
It may be easy to sit where you do and decide I am fine;
But you would be wrong.
You see what I choose to let you see.
My pain is here; it is real.
I deal with it all day – everyday…
Do not believe the mask I wear.
~ Linda, June 17, 2014

During the first year after Bruce passed, I found myself getting angry at some of the things people said. During the second year, that anger subsided as I learned to think with less emotion and began to realize that people truly meant well… They just didn’t know any better. I know now that most of the words spoken were meant to console or “help me look on the bright side.” Unfortunately, what might be consoling to one person is not necessarily consoling to another. Separating the words from the intent and only responding to the intent has helped me grow and respond with love. What I hope to achieve today is an understanding of why one perception of loss can leave the griever feeling isolated even more.

One of the few statements that will still trigger an emotional (aka – angry) response within me, occurs when someone tries to compare the grief of two different people and thus, two different losses. Please, believe me when I tell you that if you were to ask anyone who is grieving, they would be quick to tell you that this is not a game… And, if it were, they would rather not be participating.

The year Bruce died, was a hard year for our little office. Several people lost family members. We lost husbands, partners, parents and children. About 6 months after Bruce passed, a co-worker went through the horrendous experience of losing her son in a senseless accident. Not only did she live a mother’s worst nightmare by having to make the decision to say “good-by”, but because it was not his fault in any way, she also spent months fighting for him in the judicial system. She is such a brave woman, and I am extremely proud to be her friend.

Since we were both experiencing such deep-felt grief at the same time, we shared a lot… many mornings found us praying for each other and sending words of encouragement back and forth. (I hope she realizes that she is still in my prayers – even today.)

The competition I mention was never between her and me. The competition seems to have been in the minds of some of our co-workers. Ironically, it seemed to be those who had never lost a child or a soul mate (a loss that impacts not just your heart but your day-to-day life).

Almost immediately, people began saying to me, “Well, at least you can remarry and get another husband. She can never replace her son.” Or “Well, at least you don’t hurt as much as she does. The pain of losing a child is so much worse.”

Really? I’ve lost a child and I’ve lost my soul mate… the relationships were different and the pain was different. But I would never say that one is less or more painful than the other. I am aware that these people were trying to help. Their intention may have been to console or to be the “voice of wisdom and positive thought.” I truly believe they meant well, and I appreciate their attempt to help me feel better.

My questions, however, would be…

1. Is there a way to measure grief?
I don’t believe you can measure it. No one knows for sure how or what I (or another person) feels. When we are grieving, we let the world see what we choose to let them see. I would bet most people have no idea that almost 2.5 years later, I still cry at least 2 – 3 times a day… and that’s a minimum. I still wear our wedding rings close to my heart each and every day, and when things get rough and when I sleep, I hold them tightly in my fist. I still have a hard time wrapping my mind around the reality of losing Bruce. I don’t know if I will ever completely accept it.

2. And what do they mean replace Bruce?
One might remarry… Then again, one might also have another child. My point is no matter what else you might do, you can never replace a person. Each person is unique and your relationship with them is unique. They will always be a part of your soul and live deep in your heart. Yes, I am lonely… but it is Bruce that I miss. I don’t want just anyone – I want him. But since that is impossible, I still find myself grieving. I still question why he is gone. I still light a candle for him each morning. I can still remember what it feels like to be in his arms. Craziest of all, I still think of myself as married, and I still think of him as my husband. Honestly, I don’t know if that will ever change.

Here is what I do know…

If your grieving, people will probably say things that are just wrong. Take a breath and remember that they mean well.
If you are trying to comfort someone who is grieving and you don’t know what to say, that’s okay. You need to say anything – just be there. That means so much more than anyone could ever realize.
Finally, please understand that people who are grieving, would rather not be grieving (period). So, if you feel the temptation to compare our grief – to make it seem like a competition – please don’t. It is hurtful and invalidating.
We would beg you, please, don’t compare us… just support us.

Because this is our community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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… The Grief of love gone wrong

Happiness is not a destination;
It is a way we can choose to travel on this journey called life.
~ Linda, September 29, 2013

This week I was given a challenge by a dear friend. “You don’t write very much about your other losses,” she observed. “Why? Those losses and how you dealt with them (or didn’t deal with them) played such a big role in how you dealt with the loss of Bruce. Besides, if this is a blog about loss, then why not write about them?… I would recommend writing about your first marriage and the grief involved with that.”

“It’s too intense… too dark,” I told her.

“Did it happen? Was it real?” she responded.

“Yes… but it’s too much. People don’t want to hear that stuff.”

“People can decide if they want hear it,” she said. “I challenge you to be honest enough to put it out there. You always say ‘if it helps one person, it is worth doing’… maybe there is one person who needs to hear your story.”

In my heart, I know she is right. So, with a prayer and a deep breath, here it is…

Usually when when we think of grief, we think of death. However, there is grief in any loss. For example, in the loss of a relationship or divorce (even when you know it is the right thing to do) there is still pain and loss. While dealing with the loss of my dear 2nd husband, Bruce, I found that I had to go back and “mourn” (or work through the emotions of) other past losses. This included the emotions surrounding my first marriage. There were a lot of “secrets” in this marriage… that this is where so much of his perceived “power” came from in those days. However, most of those secrets I will still keep to myself – at least for now.

This is my story – the story of a love gone wrong… horribly wrong. It is a hard story to tell, but my goal is to be honest. These were the memories and emotions I had to work through before I could work through my grief for Bruce. Perhaps there is someone else out there that needs to do the same. If you have a similar story, work through it. Your healing will never be complete until you acknowledge all it, mourn it and work through it. My hope is that sharing my story will help you face yours.

Her Side of the Story:

This is one of those stories where I would like to tell you both sides of the story… but to do that I would have to know both sides of the story. I do not. I only know Her side, because She… is me .

She grew up in what she thought was a normal family… Don’t we all? But what is normal? She had 2 parents, a sister, grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, cousins,… just like anyone else. She went to school and did well, although her spirit always preferred playing outside to studying indoors. She had friends, hobbies and activities (such as music lessons, church, sailing, and she LOVED the theater). As she got older she wasn’t the most popular kid in school, but she didn’t sit at home every night either. She had a mix of friends from every crowd, and she loved them all.

How she ended up where she did, she is not sure. But… At age 20, she got pregnant, married and gave birth to her first child – premature and stillborn. (A loss I wrote about in an earlier blog.) At 21, her first daughter was born – beautiful and healthy. And by age 27, Her family consisted of 3 daughters, a son and a husband. This first husband was an odd man, though – funny one minute and cruel the next. Within the first month of her marriage, she knew she was in trouble. She had never learned how to set boundaries or stand up for herself – a big gap in her knowledge of life… and her little family would pay the price.

It was a hot summer day in Charleston, SC. They were newly married, waiting on a military assignment and living temporarily with her grandmother. To be helpful, her husband decided he would cut the grass. After about 10 minutes in the hot Charleston sun, he came back inside looking for a Dr. Pepper. There weren’t any. There were plenty of other things to drink, but not what he wanted. This man became enraged. Not believing that anyone could really become so angry over a soda, she laughed. Surely he was joking… that was a big mistake.

Before she knew what was happening, this man grabbed her, shook her violently as he screamed at her and threw her against a wall as he stormed back outside. She sat on the floor stunned. What had just happened? Was this the man she knew? Was this to be her life?

She had made a choice to marry this man. She had been raised to believe that divorce was not an option. (Never mind that the grandmother she was living with had been married and divorced twice… that was considered “scandalous” and not openly discussed.) She had been raised that divorce was wrong, period. God did not approve, period. You would go to hell, period. So, she knew… She had made a choice and now she had to live with that choice despite the consequences.

She became quite good at keeping secrets over the years. In public, they were the perfect family, but behind closed doors was another story. As the children grew up, they became her world. She loved each one completely and loved being their mother. They played together, learned together and became a united team together. This bond helped them to endure his rage.

As the years passed, the violence escalated. She thought she was taking the brunt of it. She thought she was protecting Her children. She thought she was doing the “right thing”… the “Christian thing.”

As time passed, she began to see that it was all wrong. This man was angry and cruel to whoever was around. She came to understand that God did not require her to sacrifice her children or herself to a man who was unable to control his own anger and emotions. She realized that for the first time in her life, she had to take a stand… not a stand against Him, but a stand for her children and herself. It was hard… probably the hardest thing she had ever done.

This decision meant the end of 20 years of marriage. There were another 3 years of continued escalated violence, as these two separated and moved toward divorce. There were times when he broke into the house creating havoc, panic and fear. One night she awoke to find a pillow over her face and his voice in her ear saying, “If you take another breath, it is because I choose to let you.” Then, he was gone. She was still alive but the terror left behind cannot be described.

The violence continued to escalate. This man would not let go… He felt that she and her children were his – his property to do with as he pleased. And as “Christians,” it was their duty to forgive him each and every time … They should just “take it” and forgive. Eventually, a court order removed his parental rights and established a restraining order, but that was only a piece of paper. (His stalking and harassment actually continued for another 5 years.)

Finally on a sunny June day, in a small courtroom in SC, 23 years after it started, the marriage was over. She and her children could move on and live their lives. She had no idea what she was doing or how to do it. She found herself trying desparately to come to terms with what had happened in all those years of marriage. At what point had she lost her own self-worth? At what point had she let herself believe that she didn’t have enough value to want or expect anything more? For over 20 years, she had heard almost daily that the world would spin a lot easier if she weren’t on it… Now she had to prove that theory wrong, if to no one but herself.

All she really wanted was peace… to live a life not rooted in fear. She wasn’t looking for anything in particular. She just needed to learn who she was deep inside… to heal… to find peace from within and to learn to love herself.

It was an exciting and beautiful journey… it was also very hard. Now, add the fact that she had 4 children watching her… and learning by her example. She had been given another chance… She had to get it right this time.

It took some counseling and many years to get past that marriage. Even now, there are still nightmares and periods of insecurity. There are still moments of panic when she thinks she sees a familiar form or hears a voice similar to his. But every year these become fewer and farther between.

While she knew it was the right thing to do, this divorce was still a loss. As a child, she had always dreamed of a husband and children and a home filled with love. That had never happened, instead she found herself mourning the loss of that dream of a loving husband, family and home.

Life does move on, and one day she took a chance and opened her heart up once more. She (me) met a wonderful man… someone whose only expectation was love. Someone who truly understood the term “unconditional love.” That person was Bruce.

Without a doubt, Bruce was the single biggest contributor to my family’s healing. His unconditional love and total acceptance brought us a peace we had never known. My kids and I learned what a true man and a healthy marriage really looks like. We came to understand that strength is not always a physical thing, but an acceptance of oneself and learning how to navigate the world as it is.

I share my experiences this week praying that if someone else is in the same situation, they will realize that there are options. It is never too late. Everyone has value. Everyone has a purpose.

Because this is our community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… your story may hold the answer for someone else.

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… Where are the dreams now?

Reality
I know that you’re not coming back.
I know that even though I wish it weren’t true,
you are gone.
I know…
But it is a bitter pill to swallow.
~ Linda, March 20, 2015

This week’s blog is an extension of last week’s… but then again, that only makes sense since that is the way of time.

Last week I talked about Bruce’s birthday and the dream we had of retiring when he turned 55… This would have been that year. It was supposed to be our time… our dream. But life doesn’t always happen the way you plan it.

I had to go back to work on Tuesday, just like any other day. I woke up, I wrote in my journal, I did my meditation and I worked out. Then I got dressed and drove to work just like any other day… But it wasn’t any other day. It was the day that marked the end of a dream. I walked through the doors at work, greeted the security guard, unlocked my office door and sat down to my computer. However, everything in me was screaming, “NO!!” This wasn’t how it was supposed to be… I wasn’t supposed to be there. This was not what we had planned.

When we met, Bruce and I shared a dream. (I believe it was a part of our initial attraction.) We both wanted to retire on a boat and sail the Caribbean. I used to laugh and tell him that he could be my “cabin boy.” He would laugh right back and tell me that he couldn’t think of a better way to spend his days. I loved that! He didn’t care if I was the “Captain” – he just wanted to be together. Who wouldn’t fall in love with that?!

We spent many weekends looking at yachts – deciding what we wanted and what we didn’t. He used to laugh that we would need an entire separate boat just for my shoes… He was probably right! : )

He was such a thinker… always coming up with ideas for growing a garden on board, a “boat” solar-powered treadmill for me to have a place to run and any other way to make it uniquely “ours.” He spent hours studying ports and pirates, customs and currents. In other words, he got serious about how to actually make our dream come to life. Our dream was real for both of us, and I didn’t doubt that we would really do it one day.

When we bought our current home, I did worry just a little bit. In fact, I questioned Bruce if our dream was just that… a dream. After all, now we had a house and all the responsibilities that go with it. He just smiled and told me that dreams always have a way of coming true… after all – we had found each other.

Then one night… in a breath… in one moment of time, he was gone, I was alone, and our dream was no longer.

I knew it. Over time, I thought I had accepted it. I certainly understood it. I have done the figures and calculations… I know how much longer I need to work before I can retire. (That time-line changes when there is only one person to contribute to the budget.) Logically, I got it… I was aware of the reality of my situation. My world was real and our dreams were gone.

But how does one live – I mean REALLY live – without a dream? Is that living? That is where I found myself on Tuesday. Walking through the motions of my life and realizing that without a dream, what was the purpose? What was the point?

Bruce is gone. He isn’t coming back no matter how much I wish for it. Our dreams are gone too… but my life isn’t over. I don’t want to spend the rest of my days just going through the motions. I want a life with purpose. So while I have spent the remainder of this week mourning the loss of Bruce AND our dreams, I have also come to realize that I must look deep inside myself and find a new dream… a new purpose.

This week has been hard. I have smiled in public and pretended that all was well. However, on the inside, I have been lost… totally and completely lost. I hear this is normal… all couples share dreams and when one is gone, the dreams are gone. It is up to each of us to determine how to keep going.

I’m not sure exactly what my next dream will be but I have the glimmer of an idea that makes me smile. That alone leads me to believe I am on the right path. Life has a way of opening and closing doors, so for now, I will follow my heart, go where life leads me… and pray for the courage to keep moving forward.

I share my thoughts this week praying that if someone else is feeling the same way, they will realize that it is never too late to dream… And dreams are what give our lives purpose.

The Promise
A bird hops through the grass.
A grapevine gently bounces in the breeze.
The raindrops left on the grass from last night’s rain
sparkle in the morning sun.
The ants are already busy scrambling to and fro.
It is a new day;
Full of promise.
Let me open my heart and see the beauty that surrounds me.
Let me accept the promise of today
and hold it to my heart
so I can live each moment as it comes.
~ Linda, September 29, 2014

Because this is OUR community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.

Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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… Celebrating his life…

Blessed

Sometimes I don’t know how to do this.
Sometimes I can’t even breathe.
Then something happens
And I am reminded of how blessed I have been
To have known you at all…
To hold you in my arms,
Even if only for a little while…
That love will carry me through.

~ Linda, February 10, 2015

Aaaand… here I go again. Bruce’s birthday is Monday, April 13 so I have found myself facing another weekend with great significance. Sometimes I feel like there isn’t even time to breathe before the next thing comes along. However, while I find myself tearing up as I reminisce about past birthday weekends, I know that what I want to do is to celebrate his life… a life that changed mine for the better.

With rare exception, we always took the week of Bruce’s birthday off and headed to his folks’ house to celebrate. We would have so much fun just enjoying each other’s company – spending time on the beach, fishing with his dad, playing card games late into the night, “camping out” in the guest house and making all those precious memories that I wouldn’t trade for the world. It was his week and his mom always treated him like a prince – cooking all his favorite foods, including his favorite cake (Texas Sheet Cake). He would just grin from ear to ear the whole time we were there… In fact, saying good-bye was the only negative part of the whole week.

I remember the first year that I joined him there. Bruce and I had only been dating for a few months. Up to that point, I had only met his sisters (who are wonderful), but not his parents. He was so excited to have me come along, but I was TERRIFIED. I was a 40-something year old divorcee with 4 children who lived 1000 miles away from their son… not exactly a parent’s dream mate for their only son. But Bruce kept insisting I was wrong. “They will love you,” he smiled. “They already love you because I love you and I am happier than I have ever been.” I guess he was right because I felt welcomed and loved from the moment I walked through their door. In fact, that love and acceptance has not changed at all across the years… His family became my family and still is. : )

On his birthday weekend in 2011, we signed the final papers and moved into this home. Since we couldn’t go there, his folks came here and helped us move in. It was a ton of work but we had a great time just being together… and Bruce still got to pick every place we ate. : ) Bruce and I were so excited to be here. We had picked this place specifically to fulfill our dream of spending our retirement years enjoying the Florida coast.

We planned to retire when Bruce turned 55 and just spend the rest of our days playing together. We were so excited… We had so many adventures planned… so many places to go… so many things to do. That dream retirement would have started this year on his birthday (tomorrow). That was our plan… that was our dream. But for whatever reason, that dream was taken away without warning one January night…

With our dreams gone, life got real. So in the interest of a blog that is honest about grief, I will too.

That first birthday without Bruce, we held his memorial and scattered his ashes at sunrise. Afterward, we came back home to a brunch of all his favorite foods. In the evening, we went to one of his favorite fishing spots, toasted him with a beer, and let his grandson place a “boat of flowers” into the water to “take a note to Papa in heaven.” Then to end the day, we had dinner at his favorite seafood restaurant in town. It was one of the hardest days ever… but all in all, it felt like the right way to honor him and his life.

The next year (last year), I was alone for his birthday. At the end of the day, I dressed up (just as I would for him) and went out to dinner at that same seafood restaurant to celebrate. Then afterward, I came back home and had a (Jimmy Buffet) Parrot Head party in his honor. In my mind, I danced with him for hours… It was a hard, tear-filled, wonderful night.

This year I would love to say that enough time has passed, so I am spending the weekend remembering the good times and being thankful, happy and content with those… But that would be a lie.

I am happy for the time Bruce and I had together. I love remembering all the good times and precious moments. But I would give absolutely anything to have him back… to have our dreams back… to have my best friend back… to have our life back. I try not to cry, but the tears come anyway – I am just so sad that he is gone and I am here celebrating his birthday alone. (Even as I write this, I am having trouble seeing the screen through the tears.)

This year my plan has been to go to all of his favorite eating spots over the next few days. (I’ve already been to three of them – Friday, Saturday and tonight.) I even bought a little cupcake (okay – it’s actually HUGE) and a bottle of “Birthday” wine to celebrate tomorrow. I also plan to have another Parrot Head dance party just because it feels right.

I guess deep inside, I want him to know he isn’t forgotten. I love him… I will ALWAYS love him. And as long as I have breath in my body, I will celebrate the day the world was blessed by his life.

This week I have only shared my thoughts, feelings and experiences – there is no great wisdom… only the truth. Because this is our community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.

Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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