Month: August 2017

Peace, Love and Grief… Actions Speak Louder Than Words

I remember years ago talking to my (then) brother-in-law about my separation from his brother (my first husband). I felt torn. We had been married over 20+ years… 20+ violent, chaotic years. My estranged husband at the time was calling many times a day to say he would change… If I would give him just one more chance, he would change. I wanted to believe him… After all, who willingly wants to tear a family apart? Twenty plus years is a lot of history. But, those twenty plus years had been a nightmare, and I had heard those words before.

The day we left, my kids and I ran away with only the clothes on our backs… Our situation was so bad, I was willing to give up everything for the hope of protecting my kids and finding some semblance of peace. Like many women in the same situation, I struggled to separate the words I was hearing from the reality I knew. Then his brother gave me the simplest, yet wisest, advice, “Look at his actions… Actions speak louder than words.” He was right… I went forward with the divorce and never questioned my decision again. Well over a decade later, his behavior remains the same – still threatening… still aggressive.

Now move forward several years to my relationship with Bruce… Bruce was a man of very few words, but his actions said it all… His words simply backed up those actions. In one of our first conversations I told him I was having trouble reading him… I didn’t understand what kind of game he was playing. He simply looked me in the eye and said, “I don’t play games.” And he didn’t! It was so refreshing to be with someone who said what he meant and his actions matched his words.

He made it so easy to fall in love with him because I never had to guess… Our relationship wasn’t built on games. I could trust him implicitly, and that made all the difference in the world. When I have written about the healing Bruce brought to my family, I believe this was the foundation of that healing – His words and his actions matched, and that is how trust is built and relationships thrive.

This week was a rough week for exactly this… In situations both professional and personal, there were things said that didn’t match the actions taken. Like so many years before Bruce, I was convinced I was the problem… I was convinced that in some way I wasn’t enough – I wasn’t good enough, smart enough, understanding enough… the list goes on and on. All week, I longed for the safe feeling of Bruce’s arms holding me tight, but that can’t be… not anymore. Instead, as the week progressed, I found myself pulling more and more inward, and pushing the world further and further away.

On Friday, one of my co-workers made the comment, “Like everything else in life, you just have to spin it so the other person will accept it.” Wait, what? Why would you “spin” anything? What happened to being honest? This is my frustration… This is my point – You can “spin it” and say whatever you choose, but in the end…

… your actions will tell your truth.

Since Bruce passed away, the loss of that honest relationship has been devastating. I miss the way he lived his truth day in and day out. At the same time, I have come to realize just how few people really mean what they say. Sadly, over the last four years, I have heard so many people say one thing and do another. They have reached out in what initially appeared to be friendship and compassion, only to become something completely different quite quickly.

Sadly, I don’t believe this is unusual, since many people believe widows to be vulnerable and weak… “easy prey,” if you will. However, once the dust clears and you realize what has happened, it is completely disheartening.

After four years, I must admit, all of this has taken a toll on my trust in others. I now know Bruce was right when he said trust is earned – be careful who you give yours to. At the same time, I am very blessed to have family and close friends whom I trust implicitly.

However, I have learned through the years if I can’t trust what someone says, I’m not real interested in anything more. I believe that is called discernment, and it is a good thing. At the same time however, I must own my part, as well…

I can’t control what others say or do. However, I can control what I say and do… Even when it is hard or uncomfortable. I pray that what I offer to others is honest… That my actions and words not only line up, but that my actions speak loud enough so there is little need for words…

And that those actions are based in honesty, peace and love.

Learning to navigate through this journey really is different for everyone… For many of us, the way others treat us after our loss can be confusing and overwhelming. At a time when life is hard, this has the potential to make it harder… Learning that we still have some control makes it a little bit easier to navigate these situations and appreciate the love and peace we are offered. If any of this feels familiar, we are here, you are not alone. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. *

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.

Please note: Next week’s blog will be a day late as I enjoy the long weekend with family.

Peace, Love and Grief… Some Relationships Change; Some Don’t…

Yesterday on Facebook, I read a question on La Vita è Bella… What is the percentage of friends and family members who are lost after the death of a spouse? The answers ranged from 25% – 90%… Reading the stories shared along with the numbers saddened me…

When Bruce passed away, I did a lot of reading about death and grief… I wanted to know what to expect. I wanted to know how to survive this path my life had taken. But mostly, I wanted someone to tell me how to make it stop hurting! I’m afraid, though, I really only found answers to the first question – what to expect.

I found a lot of information… What I learned was everything I read was not accurate for everyone. Each person writes from their own experience… And while some experiences are shared… others are not. I found myself reading everything… Not knowing what lay ahead, I wanted to be prepared.

Almost every book, article, website, etc. stated that relationships would change – some for the better and some not. Looking back, I don’t know why this was such a surprise… Even in my divorce years ago, I had found this to be true. Each of these authors also gave a warning – to expect your in-laws to fade out of your life…

This left me in a panic… I love my in-laws!

Bruce’s sisters were like my own sisters… We were constantly in contact with each other; we travel together; we share secrets… and we loved each other. And his parents… Oh my gosh! His parents have made me feel loved from the moment we met… I have called them “Mom” and “Dad” for as long as I can remember. We talked constantly and visited each other all the time… I loved them, too.

I had already lost Bruce… The idea of losing Bruce’s family too was more than I could handle. I remember when they were leaving after Bruce’s memorial… I shared what I had read and begged them not to lose touch… not to walk out of my life…

They chuckled at me (the same way Bruce did when he thought I was worried about nothing), hugged me and assured me they would never leave me behind… And they haven’t.

I have been blessed! Through the years, our relationships have not only remained intact – They have gotten stronger…

In fact, last weekend I went to Bruce’s parent’s home to attend their family reunion. In the days preceding the visit, I started getting nervous… Bruce and I always went to the reunions while he was alive, but this was my first time going alone… The more I thought about it, the more nervous I became.

What if I had misinterpreted the invitation? What if they had only invited me to be kind? Did they really want me there? Once I was there, what if they felt I was just a reminder that Bruce is gone? Surely, they must wonder why he is gone, and I am here… I know, I do.

But none of that played out. Instead, I found myself surrounded by people who love and miss Bruce as much as I do. It was so cathartic to be able to talk about him freely, cry when needed, and never once feel judged or like I was a nuisance. It was such a refreshing weekend, both emotionally and physically!

I miss Bruce… I miss him every day… That being said, I am so thankful I don’t have to miss his family, too… And for me, having these wonderful people in my life keeps a piece of Bruce in my life, as well. I am so thankful the experience I read about so long ago has not been my experience… And yes, I know I am blessed.

Learning to navigate through this journey really is different for everyone… For many of us, the changes in our relationships after our loss can be confusing and overwhelming. At a time when life is hard, these changes have the potential to make it harder. Learning to navigate these changes and appreciate the love we are offered is as individual as each relationship, and we move through it at our own pace and in our own way. If any of this feels familiar, we are here… You are not alone. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. *

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 Does It Mean to Heal?

Grief… It may be a small word, but it is not a simple word… In fact, for such a small word, there are a lot of emotions and thoughts wrapped up into it… For example, there are different types of grief, depending on the relationship… And there are different stages of grief, which is a farce I’ve discussed before. Then, there is a grief journey, which is really just your life’s journey that took a sharp turn down a long, dark road. And the list could go on and on…

Today, though, I was thinking about an idea you hear a lot about… The idea of healing from grief. To start, let’s define “heal.” In the dictionary, it is defined as follows: “to become sound, healthy or whole again.” Hmmm… interesting idea, but it doesn’t seem to fit with grief… not really…

When Bruce passed away, many of those who had never been on this path, (We’ll call them “the others.”), kept telling me it would “get better with time,” and eventually, I would “feel whole again.” On the other hand, other widows and those who had also experienced deep loss, told me up front, “This will always hurt. You just learn to live with it.”

As time has moved on, “the others” continue to ask or advise me about moving on. But those who are on this journey too, continue to say, “This will always hurt. You just learn to live with it.” … And now, after four-plus years, I know who I believe.

But, I also think there is a little more to it…

Whether the loss which precedes grief is sudden or whether it comes after an extended period of time, it leaves you in a state of shock… The initial reality is hard to accept or comprehend in those first few days or weeks. Once you realize this is real, that is when the grief sets in… (After all, you can’t grief what you can’t comprehend.)

The thing about loss and grief… They leave you in a place where nothing makes sense… a place where nothing is the way it was… a place of complete and utter weakness. So, here you are, trying to figure everything out, make decisions, take care of the “legalities of death,” all while you are emotionally (and maybe even physically) weak… possibly the weakest you have ever been… And as you keep pushing forward, you learn to live in that place of weakness… And that is grief…

As time moves on, some of the numbness and shock begins to wear off, but the feeling of having the breath knocked out of you remains… And then, things get even stranger…

There are days (and maybe even weeks) where you feel okay… where you start to learn to function outside of that weak space… And you think, “I’m doing better. I’m going to be okay.” Then suddenly, you find yourself struggling to breathe again, and you are right back in that space of weakness… That same space where you started.

The grief journey (at least for me) seems to be a path where I will always hurt… There are good days where I feel strong, and there are bad days when I feel so incredibly weak again… So the healing is not really about moving on, letting go or even the hurt going away…

No, I think, maybe… just maybe, the healing happens as we allow ourselves those weak moments when they happen (and they will happen) – being gentle rather than hard on ourselves when they happen… But also not staying in that space for any longer than we need to…

In other words, any healing is actually about accepting our weakness while learning to live in our strength.

And no matter where we find ourselves on any given day, always remember – come from a place of love and be gentle with yourself… because that is where our strength is found.

Learning to navigate through this journey is different for everyone… For many of us, the changes in us created by our grief can be confusing and overwhelming to ourselves and others. Learning to be open to new possibilities can feel impossible at times and at other times, this is what gives us hope. We all move through it at our own pace and in our own way… and we each have our own experiences that help us make it through. If this feels familiar, we are here… you are not alone. If you are someone who needs a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. *

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… Where It All Started

In each breeze,
let me feel your touch.
In each sunrise,
Let me experience your joy.
In each storm,
Let me feel your strength.
In the quiet,
Let me hear your voice telling me…
All is well…
Each moment was planned.
Each smile was for me.
And your acceptance of life as it is
was your gift to help me through this storm.
I loved you
And even now, you love me.
~ Linda, September 2013

When I started this blog years ago, I had a dual purpose. One was to create a virtual community of support for anyone suffering loss. The other was to help those around us understand how best to offer support. Those first few weeks (and months) there were only a few of us here… Now, there are many of us here… Members of a club we would rather not belong to.

Many of you have shared your stories with me privately and a few publicly… It has been over two years since I shared my own story… My own start on this journey which has changed my life… This is where it all started…

Today’s story is about Bruce’s death and cremation, and the questions that followed it – mine and others. I don’t belittle the hurt others felt or the idea that someone else may have made different choices. (Of course, they would.) But this is my story…

My hope is that by being honest, we can move away from the idea that grief is something we need to “do right” and replace it with the realization that it is a process. A process that requires the griever to live and bargain with each moment as it comes… none of it is easy or rational. It is a moment by moment journey and we do the best we can in each moment…

It was Friday night, January 11, 2013. I worked late but still managed to beat Bruce home. I arrived at 6:30 PM with Chinese food to share for dinner. (It took several years before I could eat Chinese food, again. Even now, it is not on my list of go-to dinner choices.) Bruce got home around 8… He had worked another long, 15-hour day and was exhausted.

I remember being so excited to see him… I ran to the door to greet him and take his cooler. He said he was too tired to eat much so he just had a little soup. I sat with him while he ate, and we talked about our plans for the weekend – kayaking or the beach? We laughed because we both knew it didn’t really matter – just being together and near the water would be wonderful.

When we went to bed, I was fretting about something… I was the worrier, and Bruce was always so chill. We used to joke that he was Pooh Bear (with a beer not a honey pot), and I was Piglet (the tiny worrier). I remember hearing him chuckle as he kissed my forehead, pulled me close and we snuggled into bed.

A few short hours later, I woke up. I was still in his arms, but he sounded like he was having a nightmare. I tried to wake him. I called his name and shook him over and over. Suddenly, he seized up, and collapsed. I was terrified. I called 911 and started CPR. Although the 911 operator was talking to me the whole time, my mind seemed frozen… It all felt like a dream… This couldn’t be really happening… It couldn’t!

Within moments, EMS was here and took over. They tried everything – a breathing bag, an Epi-pen and the “paddles”… but the line on the monitor stayed flat. I watched silently from the bedroom door, but inside my head I was screaming for him to come back… but I knew. No one said a word… but we all knew. The responders kept doing CPR, but there were no more “tricks” in their bag, and there was no longer any sense of urgency. Instead, they waited (actually waited) until a police officer came to drive me to the hospital. Then, with no sirens and no one beside me, we made our way to the ER. It was so surreal…

It was my worst nightmare, and I couldn’t wake up…

Once at the hospital, they put me in a “consultation room” where I sat… alone. The next few minutes were the longest of my life, as I sat there… waiting… Finally, the door opened and a doctor came in to tell me what I already knew. I remember just sitting there… I’m pretty sure I was crying (because I remember having a tissue in my hand), but there was not anyone to hold me and tell me it would be okay… not anymore…

My hero was gone…

I was led to a room where Bruce lay on a gurney… so still… Too still. All the machines and equipment had been turned off, but the remnants of their efforts were still all around us. I was allowed to stay with him until the Medical Examiner came. I remember stroking his face, his hair and his whiskers. I remember kissing his cheek and begging him to open his eyes. I remember thinking this whole thing was impossible! This could not be real… Surely, he was going to open his eyes at any moment and say, “Gotcha!”

But he didn’t… This was all too real…

I remember telling him how much I love him… and I remember crying. There was no one… I was completely alone, and I knew deep inside that was how it would be from now on. When the Medical Examiner’s office came and took him away, the police officer drove me back home.

I was so numb and confused. It just didn’t seem real… How could this be? How could This wonderful man be gone? This man who loved me with no conditions… just complete and total love. How could a loving God take that away? How could Bruce really be gone? It seemed so wrong… so impossible.

I remember I started calling people. It was 3 AM, but I didn’t know what else to do. I remember calling his parents, my parents, our siblings and our children. I even remember calling his boss and a couple of close friends. Then, I spent the next few hours cleaning the house and preparing for everyone to arrive.

The next few days are a blur. I can remember some things but not a lot. I was in such complete shock. The main thing I remember was how I had to concentrate just to breathe… Life just seemed to stop for me, and I wanted to the world to stop too… I wanted to get off… This was too much!

Within a couple of weeks, everyone had gone back home. As for me, I hadn’t come to terms with any of it yet. It felt like I wasn’t even breathing again… but they had lives and homes and families to get back to… they couldn’t stay forever… I would have to figure this out on my own.

I remember thinking I had to be strong and brave so Bruce would be proud. I wanted to do this widow thing “right.” I had to do what I remembered he had wanted. During those last few months, there had been a few conversations about death and what we wanted. There wasn’t a lot he was picky about, but I remember he always said that he did not want a viewing or a big funeral. (He hated being the center of attention.) He wanted to be cremated and to have his ashes scattered in the ocean. He was quite adamant that he did not want to end up on a shelf somewhere. So that was my plan. I had no idea what I was doing and there was no one to guide me… but I was going to give it my all.

Two weeks later the funeral home called, and I went to pick up his ashes. I’m not sure what I expected, but here is what happened… First, they tried to give me the wrong ashes. Then, they put them in a plastic bag – like the kind you get at the grocery store. I was so appalled. Were they kidding me?! This was a man… He was my husband… He was my soul. I remember crying all the way home. Once here, I lit a candle in front of the container and simply sat vigil for the next 24 hours. How could such a wonderful man be inside such a small container? It was too much to comprehend.

The next day, I started making plans… I couldn’t sit here forever. I wanted to follow his wishes, but I also wanted to honor him. The memorial was held a few months later – on his birthday at sunrise. As much as I wanted to, I did not keep any ashes, nor did I give any away. I wasn’t trying to be cruel or unkind to anyone. I was merely trying to do what Bruce had wanted. He was my world; my allegiance was to him, and I needed to do this right. Thankfully, his family was understanding and supported me completely in following Bruce’s wishes.

On the day of the memorial, it was supposed to rain… but it didn’t. It was beautiful. At sunrise, my son took Bruce’s ashes out in the kayak past the breakers and scattered them. The memorial and brunch were perfectly “Bruce,” and I know he was smiling. Saying goodbye was one of the hardest things I have ever done. It hurt so bad… In fact, it still hurts…

However, I am so proud of this man and what he added to this world and my life… The legacy he left behind is one of unconditional love and acceptance. He was truly amazing…

And he was my hero… Always and forever…

Learning to navigate through this journey is different for everyone… The beginning of this journey is the hardest. There are no instructions and most of us have no idea what to do. We all move through this journey at our own pace and in our own way… and we each have our own experiences that help us make it through. If this feels familiar, we are here… you are not alone. If you are someone who needs a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. *

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.