Month: March 2016

Peace, Love and Grief… Life with a purpose

Hey Beautiful,
… I’ve spent 10 years living day by day just knowing you were out there somewhere and knowing that somewhere, somehow we would meet. I tried not to think about it. I was just trying to be a good dad and give <my daughter> what she needed. I really believe God has a plan and I was just going to have faith and let it happen. Now it’s happened and I thank God and can’t wait to see you again. You’ve given me a fresh outlook on life and I have a purpose again. Thank you!

I love you so much!
Bruce, March, 2005

Life with a purpose… isn’t that what we are all looking for in some way? I remember when Bruce wrote this letter to me. He said I gave him a purpose, but I can tell you without a doubt, he gave my life purpose, as well. When he died, I was so confused… so lost. I couldn’t understand why I was still here, and he was gone. The first year without him, I felt as if I no longer had a purpose. Surviving day to day seemed to be the only purpose I could find… at first.

As that first year drew to a close, I began to realize that I was still here for a reason. It was going to be up to me to figure out that reason and find a new focus. That next year, I focused on my own healing – emotionally and spiritually. Don’t get me wrong, I think this is one of those “on-going, for-the-rest-of-your-life” kind of things. But what I did learn that year was our purpose is always evolving. We should not expect it to remain the same year to year or possibly even day to day.

Our purpose is “for a season” – a season of life… and then, it evolves into something else… something new and different. Sometimes that change may be so subtle, we can’t even pinpoint when it actually changed. Then, there are other times (like Bruce’s death), when the change is so sudden and severe, it leaves us reeling and struggling to breathe.

The following year, I felt drawn to start this blog. My purpose was (and is) to tell the true story of dealing with loss. I wanted to tell the whole story – the good and the bad, the celebrations and the struggles, the highs and the lows… I wanted to write about the realities of being the one left behind after a loss.

Why?

Partly because I can write what I can’t say. When Bruce passed away, I had a very quick “reality check.” I learned that we (as a society) have let Hollywood dictate our opinions about loss and grief – how is to be experienced and what we should say to one another for comfort. Then, (according to Hollywood) we are all supposed to forget it, move on and “live happily ever after.”

But that is a myth; it isn’t the reality. I guess I felt my purpose has been to point that out… to let others dealing with loss know they aren’t alone. When I started, I decided that even if it only helped one person, that would make it worthwhile in my book. While I know it has made some people uncomfortable, according to the messages I receive, it has made many more people feel validated in their own experiences… so this blog is a worthwhile purpose “for this season.”

However, while I write honestly about my feelings and experiences here, I know my grief is “old news” to those closest to me. Therefore in my everyday life, I don’t usually talk about this stuff anymore… If I really need to talk to someone, I will. But generally, I try to ensure it is a rare conversation.

Which brings up another “why?” Because, while I want to help others going through similar experiences, I don’t want my whole life to be focused on the frustrations of loss. I want to live a “normal” life. Plus, I have learned that what I focus on in life will expand… and I don’t need any more sadness or frustration in my life.

For example, I found myself struggling this week as this holiday weekend approached. For me, Easter is more than a religious celebration… It is a family celebration of life. However, I knew that I would be alone, and loneliness is a huge issue for me, as it is with most widows and widowers (even years later). Since I have a hard time expressing that, no one around me knew. So, as I found myself focusing on the “alone” piece, the “pity party” started in my head.

However, about mid-week I made a choice. I decided to change my focus from “alone” and redirect it in a positive way. I couldn’t change the “alone” factor, but I could make my time alone positive and productive. So… I completely “unplugged” this weekend. I started on Friday evening, and have spent the last 2 days enjoying a quiet, spiritual retreat weekend. It has been beautiful… and definitely much better than feeling sorry for myself.

This year, while I am still writing this blog (and will continue until it no longer serves a purpose), I can feel my day-to-day purpose shifting. My current focus seems to be around spiritual growth. For what? I have no idea, but I have definitely been drawn in that direction… And I am willing to follow this path and remain open to new ideas and experiences in my life.

In some ways, I feel I am following Bruce’s lead. His calm, steady, quiet faith was unshakable. I always loved to hear him tell how he knew I was “out there somewhere” and we would meet when it was time.

From the time we met until the night he died, he wore an anchor on a chain around his neck. A simple, silver anchor – the symbol of hope. He used to say that it symbolized his hope and his faith all those years as he waited for us to find each other. He would talk about being lonely for years, but how he never gave up hope or settled for something less than what he knew was right.

Now I wear that that chain with the anchor (and our wedding bands). It is my reminder that life always offers hope… and that is where I need to focus.

ringsandanchor

What about you? Do you ever struggle with why you are still here and your loved one is not? Would you be willing to share your story or your thoughts?

Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… When their next breath depended on you

Earlier this week I saw an article on line about a rescue worker who responded to a call. He immediately begin performing CPR, then realized he was working on a loved one. He became so emotionally overwhelmed, he had to let his partner take over. There were hundreds of comments following the article – some showing support and compassion for the man, but many others judging and criticizing the man for becoming too overwhelmed to continue.

For me, the article hit way to close to home. In fact, it shook me up so badly, I can’t really remember any more details than what I have written. I can’t remember what type of emergency responder he was or who the love one was. But the comments at the bottom, keep echoing through my head… and dragging out the memories of that night…

I remember waking shortly after midnight. We were still snuggled up, but Bruce sounded like he was having a nightmare. I remember trying to wake him. I called his name and shook him hard several times. As I was reaching across him to turn on the bedside lamp, he seized up, then went suddenly limp. I was frozen for a moment – not quite sure what to do. My instinct was to call 911. However, I also knew if I was over-reacting, he would be so upset with me. (Keep in mind, this debate in my mind took less than .5 second.)

I called 911.

Some of my memories of that night are foggy while others are as sharp as if it all just happened. I remember talking to the dispatcher while racing to open the front door for the EMS crew. I remember the dispatcher asking if Bruce was still breathing… It know it sounds ridiculous, but I couldn’t tell. He sounded like he was trying to breathe but couldn’t catch his breath. Finally, I said, “No, I don’t think he is breathing.” (I remember thinking how stupid I must sound.)

The dispatcher asked if I knew how to do chest compressions. I did. In fact, up until that point, I had been “the” CPR certified person in our office for years. He asked if I could move Bruce to the floor so the compressions would be more effective. I couldn’t – Bruce was a body-builder and more than twice my size. Plus, our bed required stairs for me to got up onto it.

Instead, I had to find something solid and get it under him before I could start the compressions. I found something that would work, but getting it under him was another problem. It took all my strength to roll him onto his side and hold him there while I positioned the board beneath him.

I remember thinking I was wasting SO much time… I needed to move faster.
I finally started the compressions while counting out loud. I was only on 53 or 54 when the EMS team walked in and took over. They immediately moved him to the floor as they took over the compressions and inserted a breathing tube attached to a breathing bag. I realized immediately that the pulse line on their monitor was flat. I watched from a few feet away, as they tried injecting medication directly into his heart… but the line on the monitor stayed flat. Next, they tried the “paddles”… but still, the line on the monitor remained flat.

I remember standing perfectly still… frozen in space and time – completely silent… yet on the inside, I was screaming for him to come back… but I already knew. No one said a word… They didn’t need to – we all knew.

They continued doing CPR as we waited for a police officer to arrive who could drive me to the hospital behind the ambulance. There were no sirens and no one beside me in the squad car… just myself and my worst fear coming true… and I couldn’t make any of it stop.

At the hospital, they led me to a “consultation room.” There was one dimly lit lamp on a table and two couches on opposite walls. I remember sitting there alone at first. I remember I didn’t want to be there. I already knew what the “consulation” would be, and I didn’t want to hear it… I didn’t want to hear those words.

It was only a few minutes before the attending physician came in and said the words that made everything final and real… a confirmation of what I didn’t want to know for sure.

In that moment my world fell apart. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I remember thinking for so many years, Bruce had been my hero – my knight in shining armor – and now, in his moment of crisis, I had failed him.

His next breath had depended on me, and despite everything,… he had died.

Believe me when I say, I know it is hard to lose a spouse. I know it is even harder to watch them take their last breath… I also know the worst is knowing that their next breath… their very life depended on you, but you failed… I know because I failed.

It took several months for the autopsy results to come back. The cause of death was listed as “hypertensive heart disease” – high blood pressure. (Bruce had been on medication for years for his blood pressure.) The Medical Examiner called to further explain his findings… the piece of the puzzle he felt I needed to know.

As he explained it, Bruce’s heart was twice the size it should have been. This was caused by the hypertension. The high blood pressure forces the heart to work harder to pump the blood. The heart like any muscle grows when it works hard… forcing the heart to work harder. Over time, this creates an unhealthy cycle.

The M.E. also asked if anyone had performed CPR on Bruce that night. I told him I had tried, but had failed. As we talked, he was very kind and explained that I was really “too small to be effective at CPR.” He said that CPR is used as an attempt to help someone who is technically already dead and most times is not effective… especially when performed by someone my size on someone Bruce’s size.

However, he went on to explain that, in reality, no one could have saved Bruce that night. Because of his heart size, Bruce needed a heart transplant. Without it, once his heart stopped, there was no way to restart it… no one could have saved him that night… It was already too late.

While my rational mind understands all of this, emotions are not rational. If I am honest, despite the years, my guilt over my own failure remains.

At first, I tried to deal with my guilt by talking about it, but people weren’t really equipped to help. Their response usually sounded something like, “You know you couldn’t have saved him.” (Yes, I know.) “You’ve been told there was nothing anyone could have done.” (True.) “Don’t say that. You know better. Stop thinking like that.” (True, but what I feel and what I know are two different things, and I don’t know how to make it stop.)

Eventually, I quit trying to talk about it… I don’t blame people for being uncomfortable or for the things they said. They were trying. They meant well. (And I appreciate that effort.) They wanted to help by having me look at the facts… The problem was (and is) I know the facts, but that doesn’t help me deal with my emotions. (I, also, know I have said similar things to others when trying to help.)

Besides, if I don’t know what I need to help me through this, how could anyone else?

My rational mind understands all the facts. I have no regrets about our relationship or how we spent our time together. I am thankful that I held Bruce while he took his last breath. I am so thankful I was with him, and he didn’t die alone. However, I think I will always feel that I failed him… The one time he really needed me, I let him down.

I think I will always question myself and wonder, “What if…”

After being coached and being a coach to others, I know that regret and guilt are emotions that get us no where. They are not productive emotions. They cause us to bog down where we are – unable to move forward because we are spending too much time looking behind.

Most days, I try to stick to the rational thoughts and ignore the emotional side of that experience. However, when I read the comments following the article this week, so many of those feelings re-surfaced stronger than ever. People were so quick to judge… so quick to say what (they believe) they would do. I think we all want to believe we would be “the hero” – do the “right thing” – “save the person in need.”

I thought I knew what I would do. I thought I was prepared to “be there”… to help anyone if needed. I was wrong. I learned that’s not the way life always turns out. What we think we would do and what really happens is often light years apart. This week, I found myself wondering what these same people would think of me. What would they say? What about the people in my life? The ones who loved Bruce, too?

Knowing all that I know… having experienced this for myself and knowing the reality of it, there are (many) days when I am terrified of ever finding myself in such a situation again. I know that learning to trust myself again and being able to forgive myself are a big part of my healing process…

And I am still working on that.

What about you? Did you have any guilt or regrets that you would be willing to share? Or any advice on coming to terms with the guilt or regrets?

Please share your story with us… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Who Am I?

Who am I?
I am a Mom, a friend, a listener.
I am a helping hand, a shoulder to cry on.
I am everyone… and I am no one.
I am a woman, a lover, and now
I am a broken soul;
A heart torn in half.
Who am I?
I don’t know…
But I am searching.
~ Linda, September 21, 2013

Who am I? For most of us, that may seem like such a simple question… Or maybe even a “who cares” kind of question. But when your world turns upside down, who you are comes into question for many of us. At least, it has for me.

Research shows us that most men identify themselves strongly with their jobs or careers, while most women find their identity wrapped up in the success of their family. Please keep in mind, this is not all men or women – just a “majority” statement. But even if these generalities are true, each of us still has other items in our lives that we also wrap our identity around.

But what happens when any of these things are gone? We are still here… But who we are changes. With that in mind, we need to be very careful what we wrap our identities around, because when those things are out of our control, it is too easy to end up lost.

After my first marriage, I felt so beaten down that I had no idea who I was. However, I was excited at the prospect of making that discovery. In my first years alone, just to be able to think for myself without any worry of reprisal was amazing! I began to realize who I was as a mother, a friend and a woman. After a few short years with Bruce, I finally felt like I had a firm grasp on the total package of who I am.

However, after that fate-filled day in 2013 when Bruce died, I suddenly realized how much of my identity was centered around us as a couple – “two people united as one.” I believe that is normal… I believe that lives intertwining is simply a result of loving someone completely. Nevertheless, trying to see myself without him, made “who am I” a very tough question once again.

About a week after Bruce’s death, I remember walking into our local pharmacy seeing two women who were easily 25 – 30 years my senior and thinking, “I can’t be a widow. That is what a widow looks like. That can’t be me.” Since that day, I’ve come to understand that “widow” is a label society has given me… a box I must check on forms that ask my marital status. While in some ways it may be only a part of my identity, it is a hard part accept. Perhaps it is hard to accept, because it is not who I am… not really. That is only a small piece of me… I am so much more than a label.

I also have a great job… one that I am extremely passionate about. In fact, I love going to work, and I do not dread Monday mornings. However, my job is not who I am either. In fact, I would say it is the other way around… It is “who I am” that allows me to bring such passion to my job.

Honestly, I still identify very strongly with being part of a couple. Thinking of myself as “just me” is still hard – even 3+ years later. I am still struggling to figure out how I fit into this world – where my space is… and where I belong.

However, despite that struggle, despite feeling a little lost, I know who I want to be… who I am working daily to be.

First, I am grateful… grateful that I am a daughter, a sister, a Mom, a “GG” and a friend. I know I am blessed by each of these relationships. For my kids, their spouses and my grandson, I want to be a source of support and love. For my family, my friends and neighbors, I want to be a positive impact on their lives. For the world around me, I want to be love and peace… I want to be willing to serve in whatever capacity I am able in any given moment.

Like anyone else, I know I have good qualities that I am working to build up, and not-so-good qualities I am working to overcome.

In other words, for me, “who I am” is really centered around the qualities within me and the legacy I leave behind as I encounter the world around me.

More than likely, I will always feel a little lost without Bruce, but the biggest part of realizing “who I am” is to remember that time doesn’t stand still. Who we are changes as our lives change. So the best thing I can do is to strive each day to be just a little bit better “me” than the day before…

What about you? Do you have a story to share? A story about coming to terms with who you are without you loved one?

Please share your story with us… This is OUR community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… The tiger in a cage

I am learning.
Healing is finding peace within myself…
Not trying to draw it in from others…
Linda, Septermber 15, 2013

Grief is one of those things that people try to understand while at the same time trying to avoid the experience. I remember being told to “give it time.” In time, my “heart would heal.” However, some people (and books) were actually daring enough to admit that the pain would never completely heal… I remember reading that it would be more like a scar that still caused a dull ache every now and then.

Perhaps both of those experiences are true for some people – however, not for me. After three years, I can say without a doubt, it still hurts… a lot! For me, grief is more like a caged tiger… You may think you have it under control, but you must check the strength of the bars daily just to be safe.

Soon after Bruce passed away, I started tracking my dreams in my journal. I have always believed that our dreams subconsciously tell us a lot about what we are really thinking and feeling. They are our mind’s way of processing our life and emotions. Writing and tracking my dreams has allowed me to acknowledge and deal with a lot of emotions throughout this journey. I wrote about one of those dreams on the morning of January 24, 2013, just two weeks after Bruce’s death.

I don’t think I can survive this. Everyone says I’m doing great, I’m gonna be okay, I’m strong… but I don’t think so. This is more than I can bear. My heart is in pieces. I can’t even breathe and to move feels like a huge chore… This pain is too intense. No wonder some people die of a broken heart. Survival is such a struggle right now… You were my whole world… and now my world is gone.

I woke up last night about 11:30, and the song, The Hurt and the Healer, was playing. (I’ve never heard it before.) Before I woke up, I was dreaming I was on a playground, curled up in one of those baby swings. My guardian angel was pushing the swing and gently coaxing me to climb out. Then, he started singing that song, and I woke up… I think that dream and that song were sent to me for comfort…

This dream was all about my “tiger”… But I don’t believe it was “in its cage” yet. I was only a few weeks into this journey – I was still numb and raw and struggling for air. This was the dream of a woman who wanted to quit… But my life has become a testament of that same woman who has refused to quit.

As I said, for me, grief is like a tiger in a cage. One must learn to live with that tiger because ignoring it is denial and that holds a different set of dangers. Instead, one must learn to be courageous, and acknowledge it. However, never think the tiger has become tame enough for you to simply leave the door open or to go into the cage and sit peacefully beside it. No, it will always be dangerous… It will still devour you if you allow the opportunity.

In the last year, I have learned to decide my attitude before the day begins. I have learned to keep my tiger in its cage by starting the day with gratitude before my feet ever hit the floor. I have learned to be very careful about the first things I “feed” my mind in the morning. I stay away from email, Facebook, the news, or anything that might move my thoughts in a negative direction before I have had time to remember the blessings still surrounding me.

Before I started this practice and on the days I forget, it is like opening that tiger’s cage. It is dangerous territory. There is a saying that the things we focus on, expand. So for me, when the negative stuff is the first thing in, my mind starts to focus on that. Soon that focus turns to my grief and pain… And before I know it, the pain has expanded and takes over my day (or several days).

The other thing I must remember is that I will impact every person I encounter in a day… So my first choice of the day will not only impact me, it will impact everyone I meet, as well. It is up to me to decide if that impact will be a positive or a negative one.

I know that my grief and my pain were never my choice… That is my “tiger.” However, how I deal with it, my attitude and my daily outlook IS my choice. So, whether I choose to let that tiger loose or place it safely in its cage, is up to me.

I am responsible daily for choosing my attitude… And that attitude will determine the impact I have on the world around me.

I don’t always make the right choice… Some days I open up that cage, walk right in and sit for a while. But as time goes on, I am spending less and less time in that cage…

And that is my choice.

Do you have a story to share? A story about coming to terms with your grief? A story of your own tiger and how you handle it?

Please share your story with us… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

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

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