Month: December 2015

Peace, Love and Grief… The Best Christmas Present

The year was 2004. The day was December 26. I will always remember this as the day I received the best Christmas gift ever. My son and I were off on what I thought was to be a week-long adventure to the Virgin Islands. This adventure, however, lasted much longer than a week… It changed my life.

We flew from SC to St. Thomas and boarded an old sailing schooner christened The Legacy. (If I had been writing a novel, I could not have added better foreshadowing, for the legacy Bruce left is what continues to shape my life.) We were all given a Rum Punch, ushered into the dining room and given forms to fill out for the different ports we would visit.

There were several people at our table. The crewman, in his haste, dropped off a pile of forms for all of us but no pens or pencils. As a teacher (at the time), I always carried a handful of pens and pencils. So, I quickly pulled them out of my backpack and started offering them to the people seated around me.

As fate would have it, Bruce was seated right next to me. He declined, however, and pulled out his own pen. In fact, as the rest of us joked and talked, he sat quietly and filled out his forms – listening but not really taking part in the banter. “Too bad,” I remember thinking. No matter, though… it was a very small ship and within just a few hours we ran into each other again.

It was a magical week for me… the beauty of the islands, time with my son and this new person who made me smile without even trying. The connection between us was so easy and natural. By the end of the week, even the other passengers were taking notice and making comments.

One of these comments was spoken directly to us the last night of the cruise, New Year’s Eve. Someone casually walked by and said, “You two seem to really have something… don’t let it go.” (That threw me a bit,… I hadn’t thought that far ahead.)

Bruce, however, not only took it in stride, he looked me in the eye and added, “They’re right. There is something pretty amazing between us. I don’t want to lose it.” I was shocked… terrified, actually. I had just spent 20 years in a violent marriage and another 3.5 fighting for a divorce. All I wanted was peace in my life… The last thing I was looking for was another relationship.

So, true to my (old) form, I ran away.

Not literally… In reality, I was not nearly so dramatic. I just excused myself and went back to my cabin. However, the next morning, as everyone was preparing to disembark, I told Bruce it wasn’t going to work. I remember many of the excuses I blurted out: “I had fought too long and too hard to be on my own to give it up again.” “We were too different.” “We lived too far apart.” And on and on…

He didn’t argue. True to his own nature, he gave me a gentle kiss and quietly walked away. (Later he was to tell me that he spent a few extra days in St. Thomas watching The Legacy at port. He said he just kept thinking if it was meant to be, it would work out… and he was hoping it was meant to be.) I, however, cried all the way home… somehow I knew I had just walked away from the best thing that had ever happened to me.

But the story (as you know) doesn’t end there.

I sent Bruce an email almost as soon as we were home, told him I had really enjoyed our time together and asked if we could be friends. I added that if I didn’t hear back from him, I understood and would always treasure our week together. Jump ahead 1 month and I was flying to Michigan to see if this thing between us was real or just a ship-board romance… By the end of the weekend, we both knew this was a forever thing. Jump ahead 10 more months and we were married.

Bruce opened up my life like a flower in spring. I experienced real, unconditional love. I learned how a healthy man functions and what a healthy marriage really is. Throughout our marriage, I grew in so many ways. Some of the biggest changes were my self-esteem, my self-confidence and (biggest of all) learning to trust. I loved Bruce with every part of my being and told him daily that he was my hero and the best Christmas present I had ever received.

When Bruce passed away on January 12, 2013, my world went dark. It was completely unexpected, and I found myself thrown backwards emotionally. It was as if all those things I learned with Bruce were gone… my self-esteem, my confidence and my ability to trust… all gone. Not only could I not move forward, I seemed to be spiraling down further and further as time passed.

But that is still not the end of the story…

Even after all those years together, there was still so much about Bruce I didn’t know or understand. I had always recognized that Bruce had an inner peaceful quality that I didn’t have. There wasn’t much that could shake him… he just seemed to take life in stride. Whenever I was stressed or worried, he would remind me that “the river never tries to move the rocks… it just flows around them.” At the time, I used to roll my eyes and tell him he didn’t get it. He would just smile and hug me.

As I found myself at my lowest point, I could hear him repeating this phrase in my mind… and I must say, the rocks in my river were feeling more like boulders. I decided I wanted to know more… I had to know more. So, I have spent the last couple of years, learning about my husband and what made him tick. I have listened to the lectures he listened to; I have read the books he read… And I have come to truly understand the man I married and love.

This past year, I have started traveling down the path Bruce made for me… his legacy for me. My life is once again moving forward in a positive direction because of Bruce. So here I am, as I write this blog on December 26, 2015 – the anniversary of the day we met – knowing without a doubt that I was right all along…

He really was the best Christmas present ever.

This link below is to a song that describes it best. It was the last song we danced to on Christmas Night 2012, just a few short weeks before he passed.

When we lose someone, our lives change drastically. The aspects they added to our life seem to be gone forever. But as time passes, we can learn to pull the best of those aspects into our own lives.

Have you ever felt that way? What did you do? Would you be willing to share your story or thoughts? To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… your story may 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

* 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… Learning to sing again

Music has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. At four years old, I was started singing in our church’s children’s choir. At seven, I started piano lessons. In middle school, band was added to the agenda, and in High School I added singing competitively and musicals to a world I loved.

In truth, music was my outlet. It was how I worked through my emotions. As a teenager, I would play out my emotional highs and lows on the piano, and as an adult, I would utilize either the piano or singing. Whatever I was feeling, music was a safe place to express myself.

This love for music extended into my adult life. My kids and music were my life. I taught music in a small parochial school, directed show choirs, directed childrens’ choirs, sang in adult choirs, was a member of the Director’s Guild, sang as cantor at our church and taught voice and piano lessons.

When Bruce and I married, I moved to Michigan. This meant a change in my job, but singing was still a major part of my life. Music was so much a part of who I was that I could not imagine a day without it.

Then Bruce died and the light in my world went dark… I stopped playing piano. I stopped singing. It was as if my music was gone, too. My poor parents tried many times to convince me that I just needed to try. They tried to remind me how much music had helped me in the past, but I couldn’t…

I don’t mean I wouldn’t… I mean I couldn’t – really and truly, physically couldn’t. I would try to turn on the radio and just sing along but nothing would come out… except tears. I didn’t know how to explain it to anyone including myself. (Evidently, this is a common response to stress, but I didn’t know that at the time.)

Whenever someone would bring it up, I would respond, “I don’t sing anymore – not since Bruce died,” and leave it at that. I also tried playing piano but that usually just ended in a crying session. After a while, I just accepted that this was one of those changes I needed to accept… Bruce was gone. My music was gone. I just needed to move on with my life.

After a few months, I learned to use other creative outlets for my grief, such as painting or gardening. These were quiet endeavors that allowed me to get lost inside my own head… I’m not sure – perhaps I am over-analyzing it, but I think I was struggling so hard to keep from falling completely apart that I needed the outlet to be quiet… controlled, if you will. That way I could keep myself together and not “go off the deep end.”

I remember about a year after Bruce passed away, I opened a fortune cookie and it read, “You have music inside you. Let it out.” I remember smiling and thinking, “Not yet… I’m not ready.” A few months later I was listening to Wayne Dyer when he said, “Don’t die with your music still in you.” (Yes, I am aware that he was referring to one’s life purpose, but it really struck home with me.)

That lasted for almost two years… Two years of no songs… just silence. Until…

Until last Christmas, when I decided to participate in Christmas again. As I wrote recently, one of the first things that triggered the Christmas season for me in the past was playing the first Christmas music of the year on Thanksgiving Day. I spent last Thanksgiving with one of my daughters, her husband and my grandson, and true to tradition, they did the same.

At first I cringed a little bit… I wasn’t sure how to respond until I heard a sweet child’s voice. My little Bubba singing as loud as he could and filled with more joy than I could imagine.

I smiled, said a quick prayer, took a deep breath, opened my mouth and… (wait for it….) sang along. : ) In fact, we all sang all weekend. I even sang all the way home. I don’t know how to explain how victorious it felt to be able to sing and express myself again in a way that is pure joy and fun for me.

This year, my life has taken a completely new direction. As I have moved more and more into the life coaching realm, I know without a doubt my life’s purpose now is one of serving and helping others. While I don’t feel called to make music the central focus of my life again, having it back in my life gives me a fun outlet that feels like an old familiar friend.

I, also, know that my creativity helps me approach life in a more positive way… and all because of the sweet innocence and love of a child.

When we lose someone, our lives change drastically. Did you feel you lost something that had been an integral part of who you were? What did you do? Would you be willing to share your story or thoughts? To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… your story may 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

* 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… What do you do with the stocking?

From what I see in my neighborhood and on Face Book, most of us have already decked our halls… I did mine after I returned from my Thanksgiving trip. Inititally, I wasn’t going to decorate this year. Not to avoid the holiday, it just seems like a huge amount of work, and I’m the only one to see it.

“I’ll just put up the Christmas Village,” I thought. Then, it was the nutcrackers… As I opened each container, I found myself smiling as I remembered Christmases past with Bruce and my kids. It was such a beautiful, bittersweet trip, I ended up decorating after all… But this experience was quite different from last year’s.

That first year, I ignored Christmas, so there was nothing to think about. Last year, though, I thought I was ready until I opened that first container… and there right on top, was Bruce’s stocking… Right where I had packed it after our last Christmas together… A Christmas when I thought we still had the rest of our lives to celebrate this holiday over and over.

Journal Entry – Dec 2, 2014

Hi Babe… feeling down… really struggling and missing you. Yesterday was okay – good actually… Until I started some Christmas decorating last night. : ( I thought I was ready. I thought I would be okay, but it broke me. I didn’t do Christmas last year, so this is my first time unpacking this stuff since you died. And since this box represents our last few weeks together, the memories are bittersweet and the tears seem to be endless. All I managed to get out were two nativity sets, the light brick and the stocking holders. (What am I going to do with those?) Hang one stocking? Do I hang yours? I don’t know what to do there… What do I do? I cried myself to sleep and woke up still crying. I’m not very good at this whole widow/grief thing. I can’t seem to just “move on.” I still love and miss you so much! How can this be my life? How can you be gone? How does someone with so much love and life just cease to exist? I don’t think I will ever understand this.

I keep remembering how much you loved Christmas – all the decorations and the music… your big ole’ grin when you watched me decorate or when you put on the Christmas music; your big smile that first Christmas when you laid on your belly in the snow to cut down the tree my youngest daughter had picked; how much you loved all the treats (even though you swore you didn’t eat sweets) and how excited you got about getting me the “perfect” gift. You loved the fact that this season was all about family and that was what you celebrated. When we were in Michigan, your folks would be there for the whole month and we would spend as much time as possible with them. This was also the time we would spend a week with my family back home. All that is gone now… It was you, Babe. You brought the magic to our lives and now you’re gone. Now I don’t know what to do. I’m so lost… I thought I could do this, but now… I don’t know.

Journal Entry – Dec 3, 2014

Hey Babe! Wow! Yesterday was tough. I didn’t leave the house all day… Shoot – I couldn’t stop crying all day. I’m still kind of emotionally tender today, but definitely doing better today. The stocking thing really threw me for a loop. I ended up going on-line and searching. Turns out, my reaction is common… What to do with the stocking throws a lot of us for a loop. There were all kinds of ideas and suggestions. I’m going with the only one that made me smile when I read it. I’m hanging your stocking and placing paper next to it. Then, I am going to write Christmas memories on the paper (as I remember or people send them) and place them in the stocking. I’ve already had three people send memories. : ) It makes me smile. I still cried some, but I managed to finish the decorating. I still wish you were here… you loved all of this… I don’t know about next year, but this will work for this year.

So… What am I doing this year? The same… Bruce’s stocking is right next to mine – where it belongs. The paper is there and I am writing and adding memories as I remember them. This year I wasn’t caught off-guard, and the memories make me smile. I still wish he were here. I probably always will because I still love and miss him.

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Over the past few months, gratitude has become a part of my new mantra, so instead of crying over what is lost, I am thankful for what was… for all the wonderful memories of those Christmases past.

And, believe it or not, I find myself looking forward to whatever new memories are waiting to be made.

Have you ever found yourself caught off-guard like this? What did you do? Would you be willing to share your story or thoughts? To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… your story may 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

* 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… Lessons learned at Thanksgiving – part 2

Painting Life

For a painting to truly reflect life, it must include the shadows.
For a painter to paint, she must not try to control the brush.
She must only hold the brush and choose where to move it.
The brush must flow its own way – the way it is intended in order to creat a beautiful painting.
Otherwise, the painting will be stilted and awkward…
only a poor image of the beauty available.
To reach one’s own potential and live a full life, accept the shadows;
do not strive to control.
Let go…
Then the true beauty of your life will be seen.

~ Linda, October 26, 2013

As I mentioned last week, I spent Thanksgiving week visiting my oldest daughter across the Atlantic. There was a lot that happened that week… A lot of laughing, a lot of heart to heart conversations, learning to trust and love again and what I want to talk about this week…

recognizing the beauty created through the pain in our lives.

One of the things that absolutely amazed me during my visit was my daughter and her husband’s knowledge of the wild birds and plants that we passed on our hikes through the countryside. They would hear a bird’s song and know right away what type of bird they were looking for to match the songs. (Too cool for words!) They would also pick the leaves of a plant and hand it to me to taste and say, “That will taste like a green apple”… or “sweet peas”… and it did! (Wow!)

One day when it was just my daughter and I, she pointed out some lavender growing wild along a brick wall. I love the scent of lavender and have it throughout my house. However, I have never seen it growing in the wild. It is such a lovely plant. I picked a small piece and took a whiff, but couldn’t smell anything.

“I can’t smell it,” I said.

“You have to crush it a little… then you’ll be able to smell it,” she responded.

So I crushed it just a bit between my fingers and took another whiff… It smelled heavenly – such a soft, sweet, calming fragrance. As we kept walking, I started thinking… isn’t that just like life. So many times in order to realize our own true potential, we need to be crushed a little bit. There has to be some struggle along the way or we can never know what we are truly cabable of becoming.

I say this, but in all honesty, I would be perfectly happy to not be crushed… I’m kind of tired of that part. LOL! Learning to be thankful for the struggles in my life and recognizing the growth produced each time, has been a lesson I seem to be destined to learn over and over. But near the end of the week I came to realize that maybe I’m not the only one… maybe this applies to everyone – not just those who are grieving, but everyone.

During one of our heart to heart conversations, I told my daughter how proud I am of the woman she has become. She has such a gentle spirit and yet at the same time, she is so strong. Learning to live abroad – in another culture – and feel comfortable enough to call it “home” takes a lot of strength of character, self-reliance and patience. She blushed and shook her head as she told me how lonely she feels sometimes.

It was like listening to myself… So many of the things she said, I have said or thought a hundred times since Bruce died. It is a feeling where you know you are loved but there is still a feeling of separation from the people you love… an ever-present underlying feeling of facing the world alone. Whether that loneliness is physical or emotional doesn’t matter… Either way it is very real.

That was when it dawned on me just how real the idea of life’s struggles helping us reach our better selves truly is. I wasn’t a bad person before. (I don’t think.) But I know that since Bruce died, I have learned a lot about self-reliance and finding my happiness within myself… not from a store… or a bottle… or another person. I know that God has my back and has provided me with everything I need to get through this grief… and my life. Some days are harder than others and I struggle to remember that, but deep inside… I know it.

The struggles… the shadows of our life are what give us strength of character. It is how we learn to appreciate all the blessings in our life… those that make us smile right away and those that are the result our struggles.

Today has been a hard day… this will be my third Christmas without Bruce by my side. It is a hard reality, and today it is hard to see the blessing in it. But this I know…

I was blessed to share so many Christmases with Bruce and to have those memories. I know I am a better person because of knowing and loving Bruce. When I lost him, there were shadows created in the painting of my life that will always be there. But… those shadows also make the beauty of my life that much more intense…

and for that I can be thankful.

Have you ever grown because of a struggle? A time when you knew you had a choice to move forward or stay where you were? Would you be willing to share your story or thoughts? To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… your story may the one someone else needs to hear.

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.