Month: January 2016

Peace, Love and Grief… A Tribute: Saying goodbye to my friends

At one point in The Wizard of Oz, Dorothy says, “My! People come and go so quickly here!” I agree! I couldn’t have said it better myself!

I know that people come and go in our lives. I know that is just a part of life and the price of relationships. But I also know… it sucks! Saying goodbye to friends as life moves us forward is just another type of loss… one that almost everyone has gone through at some point in time.

I have spent a lifetime moving – 15 times (so far) to be exact. Believe me when I tell you that saying goodbye is one of my least favorite things. And this past week, that is exactly what I have had to do…

Bruce and I lived in this home for less than 2 years when he passed away. In that time, we knew a few of our immediate neighbors on a first name basis. We would wave and maybe even talk if we were all outside at the same time. In the last month of Bruce’s life, we even went to a few parties with our neighbors. However, we were just beginning to get aquainted… I could never have imagined what these people would come to mean to me in such a short time.

I remember when Bruce passed away, I didn’t even have their phone numbers. I had to send my son to their homes to tell them the news. I didn’t expect anything; I just thought they should know. It felt as if they were at my door immediately, bringing gifts, phone numbers and asking what they could do. I was so surprised.
Since that time, one of these neighbors in particular has become my second family. They have been so wonderful and supportive as I moved through this grief journey. Never once did they tell me what to do or how to feel, but they were always available.

These two people have spent the last 3 years watching out for me as if I were their own. If there was a strange car in the driveway or someone in my yard, they were here in the blink of an eye to find out who and why. They know my kids and welcome them in to their home, as well. (In fact, my grandson calls them his “buddies.”)

When something here was broken or needed to be fixed, they took care of it for me without a word. They watched my pets when I was gone, and (definitely) spoiled them more than I ever would. They taught me how to take care of the plants in my yard, which ignited a love for gardening.

When it was time to go through Bruce’s things, she was the one by my side the whole time. I knew when I was having a hard day and couldn’t even open my door to acknowledge the world, they would notice. They were always quick to see if I needed a hug, or a visit, or a meal.

If a holiday was coming up, they always made sure I had a plan… or assured me that I was welcome to join them. At Halloween, that meant a Chili dinner at their house before the Trick-or-Treaters started coming. This past Easter, they even gave me my very own Easter basket, complete with a chocolate bunny.

These wonderful friends have fed me, listened to me, hugged me, loved me and included me in family celebrations. You name it, they have done it… and everytime they have done it with simple love.

For three years, they have been my solid anchor here at home… my up-close-and-personal support network. When I have felt all alone, I have known without a doubt, I wasn’t – they were only a few steps away. Every Sunday afternoon, I was there… just to chat or spend time with them doing absolutely nothing.

I know this hasn’t been a one-sided friendship. I have “been there” for them, as well. Yet, I can’t help feeling as if the little bit I have done for them is so minimal when compared to all they have added to my life.

A few months ago, while there for my “Sunday visit,” they told me they were moving back “home” to Missouri where they still have siblings, cousins and other extended family. At this point in their life, they know they want to be closer to their family. I get it… I totally understand. This is a good thing for them, and I am happy for them… But for me, I cried.

Last weekend as we said our final goodbyes, I cried again… Actually, I cried a lot. It was the moment I have been dreading since they told they were leaving. I felt like I was five years old again… I told her that if I didn’t hug her, she couldn’t go… Then, I hugged her anyway. In fact, I hugged her so long and so hard, I’m sure she thought I would never let go… and we both cried. Her poor husband had to take her by the hand and physically separate us in order to get out the door.

Saying goodbye to friends is hard. I am sure you understand because it is a loss that most people have experienced at one time or another. For me, this is the first really big (definition: personal) loss since Bruce passed away. While I know we will keep in touch, I also know I will no longer be able to trot across the street on Sunday afternoons to just hang out with people who love me… just as I am.

I know this is a really good move for them… and to that end, I am happy for them. But, for me, this adjustment is going to be hard. Now when I turn the corner onto my street and look in their driveway, it is empty, and my heart breaks.

I love these two people… I will miss their friendship, companionship and all the love they have added to my life.

While I pray that God will bless both our paths as we move forward in this world, I still hate goodbyes.

If you have experienced loss, you have probably been through this, too. This is our community, please share your story with us. Feel free to share your thoughts and experiences by going to the comments and leaving a note.*

Maybe you did something different… There is no one right answer. 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

* 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 stuff?”

From the very beginning, grief seems to be a constant battle concerning “what do I do about ____?” One could spend hours, maybe days filling in that blank. There are so many things that pop up, and immediately, you find yourself asking, “What do I do about that?” (Grief finds you so unprepared!)

I tend to be a research fanatic so even from the start I always went straight to my books or the internet looking for the “proper” answer… society’s answers. What would society tell me is the “right” response?… The “acceptable” behavior?

It’s funny, but nine times out of ten, my research would produce a “do-what’s-right-for-you” answer. That was reassuring, but the problem was this…

So many people in my life had not experienced loss like this yet and had not read the same research. They had their own ideas of what I should do. Up until a few months ago, that was devastating to me, because I wanted to be a “good widow” and do “what’s right.” But at the same time, I needed to be true to me… true to my heart.

Nowadays, I must admit, I don’t really care what society says is right or what someone else thinks I should do… I don’t really pay any attention or let it get to me. I appreciate that everyone has an opinion, but only because that means I do too… and mine is as valid as anyone else’s. In fact, I’ve come to realize that for me and my situation, mine is the only valid opinion.

For example, when Bruce passed away, he (obviously) left his “stuff” behind. He was a minimalist, so there wasn’t a lot, which only made those few items seem more precious to me.

In the first few weeks, I was too numb to even accept that he was gone. How could I even consider divvying up his belongings? I knew I wasn’t the only one grieving, and I knew others wanted something of his to remember him by, but I wasn’t ready… I couldn’t do it. People asked, and I said, “No.”

I wasn’t trying to be cruel or unfeeling. But, I had not come to terms with his death yet… There was a huge part of me that still expected him to walk through the door at any minute. How could I give away his stuff?

As I said, I did a lot of reading about what was the “right” thing to do. I found that some families actually went and cleared out the house without asking the widow(er) while they were out. Some people were okay with that; others were devastated. (I know myself… I would have been furious!) Thankfully, my family did not do this! (In fact, they never moved a single item without asking.)

Other widow(er)s came straight home from the funeral and packed up everything themselves. (But this was their choice, not someone else’s.) Still others left everything exactly as is for years, (even after remarrying). I knew none of those felt right for me. Then one day, I found a writer who said she had gone through things a little at a time, as she was ready.

Now, that was for me!

It took me months before I could actually start giving his things away with a loving heart and no regrets. The first few items went to his daughter, his parents and his sisters. Then, a few items to my kids and our grandson. After the one year mark, I knew I was ready to go through the rest of it and make some decisions.

I have a wonderful neighbor/friend who came and sat with me as I went through each item, one by one. She didn’t pick up things and take over, or tell me what to do… She was just there for support. If I asked about something, she would look at it objectively (with her expertise in antiques and collectibles) and give me an appraiser’s opinion. But she never told me what to do with it. She was just there to listen (as I shared memories), give me hugs and hand me tissues.

I spent a weekend going through everything of his. This may sound strange but there were a lot of boxes that I had never looked inside. Bruce was a very private man, and we had married later in life. So, I had always considered certain things private and respected that. I always felt that if and when he wanted to share the items in those boxes with me, he would.

But then he was gone… now, I had to do this myself. I must say that when I opened these boxes, I felt like I was invading his privacy on the one hand, and yet on the other hand, I was learning so much more about the man I love and what he thought was precious. In some ways, I was meeting a part of him for the first time… To say it was felt a bit strange would be an understatement.

“They” say, “Dead men don’t keep secrets.” (“They” aren’t kidding.) There were so many things about Bruce that made sense to me after going through these boxes… These boxes of things he found precious and important enought to keep. I had always loved him, but I came to understand him so much better.

By the end of the weekend, I had three piles… one to donate, one of specific items to give to specific people and one of items to keep. I placed several items on his dresser in our room as a memorial. It is still there today, and I look at these things each day… They remind me of everything that is Bruce. In the middle, there is a candle that I lit everyday for 2.5 years. (Currently, I only light it on special occasions… or when I just want to.)

Memorial

T-shirts and jeans were his mode of dress. (He only owned one collared shirt… and no tie.) If we went somewhere that required more than a t-shirt, that was a formal occasion! So, I kept all of his t-shirts. Initially, I thought I would make a blanket from these. However, after three years, I find myself still sleeping in them… It is my way of feeling as if he is still holding me at night.

In addition, I kept his jacket and a couple of his favorite sweatshirts. (When I am having a “hard” day, I wear these to feel him close to me… It helps.) I also kept a few other items in a very small plastic bin. These are things such as his favorite hat, a uniform shirt, some personal items and the shoes he wore when we got married.

For the most part these items are just here… part of the backdrop of my life. But when I am having a rough day (or night), they bring me comfort. I can remember my grandmother doing the same at age 90+. I know some people may find these things strange, but I also know it’s all okay.

I know that I am doing the best I can each day… and that is good enough.

If you have experienced loss, you have probably been through this, too. This is our community, so please, share your story with us. Feel free also to share your thoughts and experiences by going to the comments and leaving a note.*

Maybe you did something different… There is no one right answer. 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

* 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… Celebrating the dash between the dates

Tuesday, January 12… the 3 year anniversary of losing my Bruce… My hero, my gentle giant, my heart, my soul…

I spent days… no weeks… dreading this day. Knowing that this year I would be spending it on my own. I couldn’t say I was alone because there were a lot of people also grieving for Bruce. (He touched so many souls in his brief time here.) Also, there were a lot of people who offered their support if I needed them, and for that I am endlessly thankful.

The first year, I really didn’t know what to do. My sweet sister came, and we spent some time having a picnic at the beach… Then, a dinner of crab legs and champagne. It was nice, but in some way that I can’t explain, it just felt like it wasn’t enough. I just didn’t feel like it really celebrated Bruce.

Last year, two of my daughters were able to come and be with me for these days, which was a Godsend! As for the “celebration,” I knew I wanted to do something that I could carry on through the years whether I was alone or with others. I researched and came up with a few ideas. It worked… The day felt perfect; I had found a celebration tradition that felt right.

That brings me to this year…

I spent the day celebrating the dash between the dates… not mourning or focusing on that last date… the day my heart broke. I had already spent the previous days alone… meditating, writing in my journal, remembering, laughing, smiling, crying and preparing for this day.

I won’t lie. In some ways it was harder than I thought it would be and in other ways it was much better. (But, then again, isn’t that the way of grief?)

I woke up with the sun and set to work on a Bali flower basket for Bruce. These baskets of flowers are made to represent “giving back what has been given to you.” In Bruce’s basket, I included the following items:

⦁ Flowers – I’m not trying to be sassy here, but there were a lot of flowers to trim and arrange in the basket.
⦁ A flip flop charm as a token of Bruce, what he loved and his life’s attitude.
⦁ Rosemary because it is traditionally the herb of remembrance and love. (In fact, across cultures and time it has been used in funerals and burials.)
⦁ A letter from me to Bruce.
⦁ Two quotes: “Don’t die with your music still in you.” ~ Wayne Dyer and “If there’s a heaven for me, I’m sure it has a beach attached to it.” ~ Jimmy Buffet
⦁ Incense to carry my prayers for Bruce to heaven.

Once the basket was ready, I headed out to the beach – to an area that is in line with the area where Bruce’s ashes were scattered years ago. The weather was beautiful! With the breeze, it took a few minutes, but I lit the incense, and recited a reading and a prayer from his Memorial/ Ashes ceremony. Then, I placed the basket in the ocean and watched the waves take it…

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Once it was gone, I toasted Bruce using one of his favorite drinks – a Jose Cuevo Margarita. (Following the “tradition” I have set on every special day for him, I “shared” most of it with him by pouring it into the waves.) I wasn’t in any hurry to leave, so I spent about an hour or so on the beach talking to my Babe – remembering so many fond times at that same beach… crying, laughing and meditating.

The next part of my celebration took me to one of Bruce’s favorite restaurants in our town. Yep – seafood! Now I will say that in the last few years, I have become quite accustomed to eating out alone… it is not a new or daunting experience for me anymore. However, when the hostess sat this lone widow at a huge table for 6+, I just laughed! (There were some awkward stares, but honestly, that doesn’t phase me!)

My bigger issue was what to order. Bruce’s very favorite was oysters but I developed an allergy to those years ago. So, I went for what was usually his second pick – Royal Reds (shrimp) with a sweet potato. : )

Once I was back home, I went to work on the prayer flags. This has been an on-going project throughout the holidays that included my kids, their partners, my grandson and myself. Prayer flags are a Tibetan tradition and are made of brightly colored cloth. These flags are decorated with positive symbols and/or quotes. The flags are, then, hung outside. Tradition holds that as the wind blows through the flags, the prayers and positive energy are carried throughout the world, blessing all of us.

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As night fell, I dressed up for a special night of Jimmy Buffet tailgating. (Our favorite!) I lit all the candles and opened my present “from Bruce” – it was a bracelet with a charm that matches my memorial tattoo. Then, I spent the next few hours dancing and laughing the night away (with Bruce in my mind’s eye) while watching Jimmy Buffet – Live in Anguila.

Once the show was over, I wasn’t quite ready to call it a night. So, I listened to a few more CDs that were favorites of ours – Kenny Chesney and Rod Stewart, while I poured over photo albums and old letters and cards.

It was a beautiful day… a day filled with love and memories of the man who forever changed my life.

I love you, Babe… I am so blessed to celebrate your dash…

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For each of us dealing with loss, the anniversary of that loss is something we must deal with year after year. My hope in sharing my day is to offer an alternative to the normal grieving process we so easily find ourselves in. I can’t say that these traditions make losing Bruce easier to deal with, but it provides me with a choice to celebrate his life and who he was… and I think he would like that.

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… Facing another anniversary and I still remember…

I thought we had forever…
I never knew we were counting down
from the day we met.
~ Linda, Sept. 26, 2013

As I approach this weekend, I find myself in tears. I have fought it all week, but now it is time to let myself feel what I feel.

On Tuesday, January 12, it will be 3 years… Three years since my worse nightmare came true…

January 11, 2013 was a Friday. It will be forever ingrained in my mind. I got home late, and Bruce was even later. As a truck driver, he often worked 12 – 14 hour days. However, given his occupation, we were both thankful that he was a “local” driver and home every night.

That Friday he had left for work around 5 AM and returned home around 8 PM. I had already eaten, (Chicken Lo Mein, which I still do not eat to this day), but I sat with him as he ate the dinner he had picked up on his way home. We talked about the upcoming weekend and what we wanted to do… go to the beach, use the kayaks, or go out on the boat… It really didn’t matter as long as we were together and near the water.

I remember Bruce laughing and saying, “Whatever we do is fine with me… We could just see where the day takes us.”

That night we did our usual bedtime routine, kissed goodnight and snuggled up to sleep in each other’s arms. A few short hours later, it happened… I woke up around 1 AM to a strange noise. Bruce sounded like he was snoring but more than that… like he was having trouble breathing. I remember shaking him and shouting, “Wake up, Babe. You’re dreaming. Wake up.”

But he didn’t wake up. Instead, he seized up and then stopped breathing.

“No!” I thought. “This can’t be. This must be a dream. This can’t really be happening.” It was all so surreal.

I remember calling 911. I remember talking to the 911 operator, while trying to get dressed, unlock the door for the EMS crew, struggling to put something solid under Bruce so I could perform CPR, counting while doing compressions and the EMS team arriving. I remember watching as they continued the CPR, used the “paddles,” injected him with an epi-pen directly into his heart. I remember the line on the monitor staying flat no matter what they tried. I remember standing to the side watching all of that… and I remember thinking repeatedly, “This can’t be real. This isn’t happening. I need to wake up. I need to make this dream stop.”

But I wasn’t dreaming. Instead, it was all just the beginning of an absolute nightmare.

I remember a pastor coming in to “console” me and saying, “Just think of it as someone hit the ‘delete’ button on Bruce.” I remember that same pastor and the police officer, who had driven me to the hospital, talking about football over my head as I cried. There I was crying and lost because my husband had just died in my arms, and they were talking about a football game. I remember wanting them to leave but not knowing how to tell them.

I remember the nurse handing me Bruce’s wedding band “for safe keeping.” I remember being allowed some time to “say good-by.” I remember stroking his hair and his cheeks. I remember thinking he was going to open his eyes at any minute and say, “Gotcha.” But he didn’t. Instead, I remember squeezing his toes as I left the room, something I had always done when I walked past his lounger at home… and I remember kissing his cheek and saying, “I love you, babe. I will always love you… and until I see you again – Good-by.”

I remember the ride home in the same police car and thinking, “I’m alone… From now on, I will always be alone.” I wasn’t crying at that point… I was in such shock. I remember making phone calls (at 3:30 in the morning). I remember Bruce’s Mom crying out in pain and disbelief when I told her. Calls like that one are permanently fixed in my memory, while I do not even remember making others. However, I do remember the shock in each voice as I relayed the news that Bruce… My Bruce was dead. He was gone.

I couldn’t even begin to imagine at that point what that really meant.

I remember cleaning the house because everyone would be coming. I remember trying to clean the bed where he had died. I remember making lists, although I don’t remember what they were. Most of all, I remember thinking, “This can’t be real. This space… this house is ours. You can’t be gone! Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me here alone!”

But it was real… he was gone… I was alone.

I have spent 3 years (on Tuesday) coming to terms with that reality. Some days are better than others. I am working on my perspective and attitude. I know that what I choose to see in life is what I will see. However, I won’t lie. It is hard. I make myself get up each morning and say “thank you” for a new day. However, I also will be thankful when the time comes, and I am with Bruce again. (Not trying to upset anyone or insinuate anything – just an honest widow’s statement.)

So what will I do on Tuesday? Well, this will be my first year facing this anniversary by myself. I won’t say alone because there are a lot of people also grieving for Bruce. There are also a lot of people who have offered their support if I need them, and for that I am endlessly thankful.

My plan for Tuesday is similar to last year, and I am sure I will share it next week. But for today… tonight… and probably the next few days, I will be reliving our last few days together (especially that night) over and over…

and still wishing this was just a very bad dream…

and still praying I will wake up with Bruce next to me… holding me…

the way I remember.

Each morning I awaken
And I am reminded all over
That you are gone.
I call out to you…
Sometimes in only a whisper.
And I still feel your soul respond to mine…
~ Linda, March 22, 2015

For anyone dealing with loss, the anniversary of that loss is something we must endure year after year. I don’t know if it ever gets easier. So far, for me it is still just as painful… the tears and grief, just as strong.

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… Old Year’s Night/New Year’s Eve

Where we’ve been and where we’re going… That is what the transition between December 31 and January 1 represents for so many of us. For those of us dealing with loss, it also means preparing for the reality of another year without our loved one(s).

In fact, even with my life moving in a more positive direction, I still miss and love Bruce. I still find myself wishing for “what was” instead of “what is.’ My journal entry for December 31 states it best:

Hi Babe! As I prepare to face another year without you next to me, I struggle. I miss you so much it still hurts – physically as much as emotionally. There is still a huge part of me that can’t believe you are gone (even after 3 years). There are so many sweet memories and I am so thankful for those. I, also, know your spirit will always be with me… will always be a part of me, but it’s not the same. I miss you! I would still give anything to have you here – physically beside me… I still love you so much!

So this week, while I find myself facing the beginning of 2016, I have looked back in order to decide how best to move forward.

Before Bruce, I was never really one for resolutions or parties. Even after we were married, the New Year wasn’t really anything significant for either of us. Honestly, with the exception our first two and the last New Year’s Eve, we didn’t really make a big deal of the Old Year/New Year thing. The first two, we spent in the Virgin Islands… The first was New Year’s Eve on board the ship where we met. (I wrote about that last week.) The second was Old Year’s Night at Foxy’s on Jost van Dyke. (Same cruise, only this time it was our honeymoon.)

Our last New Year’s Eve together was spent at a neighbor’s party. Bruce had worked late and had to work again the next day, so I thought he wouldn’t want to go. However, when he came home, he insisted he wanted to go. So, we agreed to go for about an hour. To my surprise (and delight), once we were there Bruce insisted we were having too much fun to leave. We laughed and danced together all night. Now, I have the most precious memories of that night – holding each other, laughing, dancing… not a care in the world – simply being present in the moment and loving it. To top it off the next morning, Bruce did something he never did… He called out to work and stayed home to “spend the first day of the new year with his ‘wifey'” (me). This simple gesture left me feeling so honored and loved.

The next year was my first year without Bruce. It was the year I did not celebrate anything. My son and I had rented a yacht in Key West to “escape” Christmas and returned home early that evening. My neighbor insisted that we come to his party again, but it wasn’t the same… not for me. My heart just wasn’t in it. The last thing I felt like doing was celebrating the start of a New Year without Bruce.

Jump ahead to last year… I met up with a childhood friend, I had not seen in over 30+ years. We spent the evening reminiscing about the past and talking about the present. Several things came up in conversation that night that changed 2015 into a positive year for me. Two of those things have stood out for me as the biggest game changers this year.

First, my friend suggested I write this blog about loss and grief… “Tell the real story,” he said. The real story – including the pain, the hurt, the awkwardness, the struggles, the things that are said (that shouldn’t be), the things left unsaid, the surprises… everything.

Why? Because as a society, we really don’t talk about death or grief. We have let Hollywood “romanticize” it, if you will, and that is way off base from the reality. My intention and hope was (and is) to be honest and build a space where anyone dealing with loss and grief can realize that their experience is “normal” even if it isn’t the “Hollywood” version… And most important – to feel safe sharing their experiences, as well.

Second, my friend suggested a “theme” for the year versus a resolution. Why not a resolution? According to research, 93% of resolutions are abandoned within the first month. Why is that? Because we tend to make our resolutions based on what we “perceive” we should do (lose weight, exercise more, etc) versus what we have an inner drive or passion to do. In other words, working toward our life’s purpose… And for me that meant sharing my experience with others with the hope of helping.

So 2015 became my year of “Celebration, Creation and Contribution.”

This mantra played out in so many ways for me… I Celebrated (really celebrated – not just observed) every holiday, including the anniversary of Bruce’s death. (You’ll hear about that later this month.)

I have always been a Creative person, but when Bruce died I put most of that aside. It seemed to take everything in me just to keep breathing. However, this year, I made the decision to change that… I started painting, playing piano and singing again. I even started writing (despite being told all my life I am “not a writer.”) In fact, thinking creatively has given me the confidence to look past the “good” opinions of other people. This, in turn, has opened so many opportunities for me.

And finally, Contribution… This was the year to be vulnerable – to pull outside of myself and do something for others. Refusing to stay focused on my own situation was hard at first. I had to “fake it till I made it” for a good portion of the year. But a few months ago, it actually clicked… it became heartfelt. I love the things that I can do to help others, especially life/development coaching and this blog. Contributing to the world around me has taught me to love and accept everyone around me… to send peace and love where before I might have responded with judgment or anger.

My thought from the beginning has been: if I could help even one other person, then it would be worthwhile. From the messages I receive, it appears that this year of Celebration, Creation and Contribution has made a difference in at least a few lives. In truth, though, even if it hadn’t, I know it made a huge difference in my own life. I have learned firsthand that focusing on myself causes me to be stagnant or spiral down… feeling alone and abandoned. But when I focus on someone else’s needs instead of my own, we can move forward together and connected.

What about you? What one small decision or change can you make to move forward? If you are on the healing side of grief, what did you do to move forward?

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.