Month: October 2019

Peace, Love and Grief… Looking for Hope

I am a reader. I have always been a reader. I will read anything… I simply love to read and always have. I have several family and friends who are also readers, and we are constantly exchanging books and making recommendations. That being said, I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I have read a story about someone choosing to recover from an illness or surgery “by the sea.” In the books, it always sounds so absolutely peaceful – the perfect spot to sit, think and heal… both physically and emotionally.

Maybe that is part of the reason I chose to spend this past week here by the sea, recovering from surgery… The ocean just steps from my door. Starting in my teen years, the ocean has been a place of magical healing for me… I can just sit and stare at it for hours, and all the pain or frustration just seems to melt away. However, until this week, I haven’t “sat by the ocean” for a week just to recover… And, I have to admit, this week has been just as wonderful as the books make it sound.

Even before I felt well enough to venture outside, the view from the couch was amazing! To watch the sunrise over the waves each morning or to watch an afternoon storm roll in always leaves me feeling nothing short of complete awe. As the week progressed, I slowly worked my way to “porch sitting,” and finally, in the last few days I have actually made my way out to the beach.

But that hasn’t been all of it… Being by the ocean, always reminds me of Bruce, as well. After all, we met on a sailing schooner down in the islands. When we were first married and living in Michigan, we spent as much time sailing Lake Michigan as the weather would allow. Then, here in Florida, we were always either out on the boat, on the kayaks or just sitting at the beach enjoying the waves. In other words, from day one, the beach was always “our” place…

We met there. Bruce proposed there. It is there that his ashes were released, and it is where I always go to feel closer to him… and this week has been no different.

Of course, I also have spent a lot of time this week reading. One of the books I read was just a great “beach reading” book… not complicated and definitely a “happily ever after” type book… And, like all good books, there were also a few sub-plots throughout the book. In this particular book, one of the sub-plots was about an older woman who still wrote daily letters to the “love of her life” who had died several years before.

It caught my attention right away, since my journal entries are the same… Just letters to Bruce about what is going on in my life, day by day. They always start with “Dear Babe” and end with “All my love – forever and always.”

In the book, the character talks about how she knows he is dead, but she can’t quite let go. As she puts it, “Your mind resists death with all its might.” ~ Liane Moriaty, What Alice Forgot.

Boy, is that the truth! It is like a part of you always feels as if they will walk back through the door again at any minute… Like they have just been away on a trip and will return any day… It’s so stupid, because you know they won’t… There is just this part of you that seems to be stuck somewhere between “what was”… and “what is”…

This evening, though, as a storm worked its way off-shore, I was enjoying some porch sittin’ as I finished this book. Every now and then, I would put the book down to watch the rain moving away.

Each time, I found myself thinking about Bruce… Sometimes I am worried I will forget what he looked like or how he sounded, but not today. Today was like reliving each moment as it entered my mind… And as I sat there remembering, I smiled, I laughed, I cried… and I wondered, “Will I ever get used to this?” And just as I asked myself that question, I looked out across the waves and saw a beautiful spectrum of color going from the storm cloud down in a perfect arch to meet the ocean… a rainbow! A promise of hope…

I didn’t even know hope was the thing I was looking for… or needed… But it is exactly what brought peace to my heart today.

Everyone travels this path in their own way and in their own time… Grief is hard and the fact we seem to be expected to carry on with our life as if nothing had happened can make it seem even harder. These are only my thoughts and observations about my own path. Maybe you too have had challenges that have brought your grief a little closer to the surface or made it seem a little bit harder than normal.

Learning to navigate this journey tends to show us we are stronger than we thought we were, even when we feel completely vulnerable. 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… Comfort in My Heart

I’m not sure if I want to put this all out there or not this week. However, since my goal is to be honest about this journey… here goes…

As you may (or may not) recall, last year held another challenge for me in the form of breast cancer. It started with a diagnosis and surgery in the spring, chemo throughout the summer and radiation in the fall. I had great support from my family and friends throughout the whole experience, but it was still hard doing it without Bruce by my side. So many times, I would think, “Why?… Why do I have to do this without him by my side?” But, of course, there was never an answer… Life just seems to be what it is.

However, there was also a part of me that felt differently…

I’m embarrassed to admit it… It probably sounds quite vain, and it is hard to explain, but after the surgery, there was a part of me that was relieved Bruce wasn’t here. I had tried to prepare myself for what was coming with each step in the process. After all, the goal was to get rid of the cancer, and we did that. But I guess, I wasn’t prepared for how it would look after all was said and done.

I thought that with a lumpectomy, things wouldn’t be that bad… But I was wrong. The first time I looked in a mirror, I was shocked. I had not expected what I saw reflected there… And I cried. In that moment, I was glad Bruce wasn’t here. I’m not saying he would have minded… I’m saying I was horrified… I would have been embarrassed to let him see me like that.

Then, there was the chemo, and I lost my hair… all of my hair – not just the hair on my head. I lost my eyebrows, eyelashes… every bit of it – gone! Again, before it fell out, I thought I would be okay with it. It was just hair, after all. However, the reality left me quite humbled. And, once again, while a huge part of me wished Bruce were by my side, there was also a small part of me which was relieved he never saw me like that.

After the chemo, there was the radiation. By this point, the surgery was starting to heal, and I thought, maybe it will all be okay. However, the radiation has an effect on scar tissue… It made it hard and caused a lot of permanent swelling.

There were so many emotions at that point… I was thankful to my doctors and glad to be alive. I knew my experience had not been all that bad when compared to so many others, especially those who don’t make it through. I was trying to be okay with how my body looked… Yet, again, there was a part of me that wished Bruce were there to tell me he loved me no matter what, and the other part was relieved he never saw me looking like this.

Last year, the doctors told me I would need to wait a year for the healing process to run it’s course. Then, we could look at the options available to “fix” things. So… I waited.

As time passed, I’m not sure if I just got used to it, or if things got better, or a little bit of both. However, when the year was up, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. However, when summer came, and I realized I was uncomfortable wearing certain clothes, I decided to see exactly what my options were.

And that brings me to this week…

On Friday, I had some plastic surgery to fix everything… They released the scar tissue to get rid of the hardness and did some fat grafting to even things back out. So why am I writing about this here?

Because, as I have said, throughout this journey, I have had mixed emotions about wishing Bruce were here with me and being relieved that he wasn’t here to see how I looked. However, when I woke up from my surgery, I knew without a doubt, he has been here all along… by my side… holding my hand.

Because that is what he was doing during my surgery… As I came to, all I could remember was Bruce taking my hand as they wheeled me into surgery. He never said a word… He just stayed beside me holding my hand. When the nurse woke me up, he squeezed my hand and was gone… just like that…

It took everything in me not to cry… I wanted him to come back. I remember the nurse asked if I was okay. “I just feel like crying,” I said, as I remembered holding his hand for the past few hours… Something so real… Something I haven’t done in such a long time… Something that reminded me – I am not alone… I have not been through this journey alone… and he loves me no matter what…

And… even if he can’t be here physically by my side, he still loves me enough to put his comfort in my heart… where I can always find it.

Everyone travels this path in their own way and in their own time… Grief is hard and the fact that life just keeps on coming at you can make it seem even harder. These are only my thoughts and observations about my own path throughout the course of dealing with this thing called cancer. Maybe you too have had challenges that has made your grief seem a little bit harder, as well. Learning to navigate this journey tends to show us we are stronger than we thought we were, even when we feel completely vulnerable. 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… Walking the Path

It has been over six years since Bruce died… “They” say it gets easier with time. Maybe that is true for some people… Or maybe it just hasn’t been enough time for me. Who knows? I know everybody’s path is different, so I am guessing the “time” part is different too.

There is a certain thing, though, that I am guessing happens to more people than just myself… After a certain amount of time, even if you are still hurting, you simply get better at keeping those emotions to yourself. I know for me, I have gotten better at smiling, even on the rough days… Just because I am smiling doesn’t mean those feelings aren’t there. In fact, those feelings seem to always be there – somewhere just below the surface… waiting for any small reminder of what once was. Sometimes it is a song… Other times it might be a mannerism in a stranger or passing a car or truck like the one he used to drive.

In other words, it can be anything, and it usually catches me unaware…

The next thing I know, I am struggling to control those emotions while still maintaining whatever demeanor and conversation happens to be going on. Like anything else in life, sometimes it’s more manageable than other times. However, if I am honest, there are times when I am just plain tired of smiling through the hurt and pretending to be okay… Pretending that it doesn’t really hurt any more when, in fact, I am still dying on the inside.

Do you know what I mean? Have you ever gotten tired of pretending that all is fine? Maybe it’s just me, but somehow, I doubt it.

This week I was trying to figure out why I do that… After the third time in one day of smiling instead of giving in to the tears, I thought, “Why not just say, ‘Hey, give me a minute here, please?’” Then, as God provides, (through my Face Book feed this time), I read an article that seemed to hit the nail on the head…

Here’s the thing, our grief is unique to who we are and our unique relationship with the person we loved and lost. Even if two people are grieving the same person, our relationships are different. Therefore, our grief is different. So, no matter how much another person might want to completely understand, they can only support us up to a point. After that it is up to us to walk the journey… alone, because it is our grief and our pain that we must work through.

I think that is why I choose to keep it close to my heart, hidden deep inside…

The people around me love me…  I know they love me… I do not doubt that for a moment. I also know that when I am in pain, it creates pain for them. After all, when someone we love is hurting, we hurt too… That is part of loving someone. These people around me, because they love me, have seen me through the parts of this path that are accessible to them. They have stood beside me and held me in my darkest moments.

However, at this point – after so many years – there really isn’t much they can do to help me as much as they may want to. Now, it really is up to me to work through the hurt that is unique to my grief for Bruce. There are still moments of grief we can share, such as on holidays and special occasions. However, for those day to day moments that create a catch in my throat, there is no need to bring it up since those particular situations are based on my relationship with Bruce and those intimate moments and memories that belong only to us.

So, while there may be times when I am tired of pretending, I am also so thankful for the people around me who keep me smiling… Those people who don’t judge me or make a big deal when I suddenly get momentarily quiet before rejoining the conversation and laughter.

So, maybe I’m not as good at hiding it as I think… Maybe those I love do notice those moments of pain as they flash across my face. However, rather than calling attention to it, they respect my path enough to let me work it out for myself… As I sit here and think about it, maybe we are all just getting better at walking this path in our own way… and in our own timing.

Death changes everything…
For a while that is all I can think about.
Time changes nothing…
On its own.
This is a journey
That will not end,
But I can learn how to direct my path.

If I do not pay attention
To each individual step,
If I look too far ahead,
If I get tired and stop,
If I look backward too long,
I will become lost and scared.

I did not choose this journey.
I do not even like this journey.
But I would rather choose my path now
Than to try to find my way later
Because I gave up what little choice was mine
And became lost.

It is okay to stop and rest
Or cry when I am weary
As long as I do not lose track of where I am.

It is okay to peer behind me
To see where I was
As long as I remember to look forward as I move on.

It is even okay to look at what is ahead
As long as I am doing so as preparation,
While I remain focused on where I am.

Death has changed everything
And I must learn how to adjust.
Time changes nothing…
On its own – that is my job now.

This is a journey –
And it is mine –
I must own it to survive it.
~ Linda, September 2013

Everyone deals with grief and the loneliness it creates in their own way and in their own time… These are only my thoughts and observations about my own path. Maybe grief has been that way for you, as well. Learning to navigate this journey tends to show us we are stronger than we thought we were, even when our loneliness leaves us feeling completely vulnerable. 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… Learn to Be Lonely

Learn to Be Lonely
Child of the wilderness
Born into emptiness
Learn to be lonely
Learn to find your way in darkness
Who will be there for you?
Comfort and care for you?
Learn to be lonely
Learn to be your one companion
Never dreamed out in the world
There are arms to hold you
Your heart was on its own
So laugh in your loneliness
Child of the wilderness
Learn to be lonely
Learn how to love life that is lived alone
Learn to be lonely
Life can be lived
Life can be loved
Alone
~Andrew Lloyd Webber, Phantom of the Opera

A few years ago, when I heard this song, it really hit home with me… I can remember my eyes filling with tears, and I thought, “Yes, exactly! That is where I am.” … Learning to live alone… and learning how to love this life despite being alone.

According to the dictionary, the word “lonely” has several definitions. The one that seems to hit home for me since becoming a widow is “Without others of a similar kind.” I believe it seems to validate why I often feel so lonely… because within my family and my closest friends, I am the only widow. There is absolutely no one who can understand exactly what this feels like. So, while I am around the people I love almost all the time, I am the only one that knows what this journey is like… how hard it can be… how lonely it can be…

And (while they may not realize it is still a battle for me), how determined I am to not just live my life, but to love it, too…

That really is the hard part – learning how to love life again…

I love the people I am with – my family and my friends. I love the laughter and adventures we share. I love taking trips together. I love simple debates and intimate conversations… I love all these things and more.

But there are still things I miss… Things which no one around me can replace…

I miss being held and feeling the safety of his arms. I miss looks across the room that convey an entire conversation without a word being spoken. I miss sharing a private joke and dreaming about our future together. I miss caring for and supporting each other. I miss hugs when I’m down or for absolutely no reason at all. I miss extra dishes in the sink and seeing his beer in the frig… I miss the way he wore shorts in the dead of winter and always cooked in his bare feet. I miss being greeted at the door with a glass of wine and dancing in the kitchen. There is so much… And I miss it all!

I am alone.
All alone.
No longer is there someone to listen at the end of the day.
No longer are there arms to hug me or lips to kiss away the hurt.
No longer is there someone to say, “I love you… That’s all we need.”
All that greets me is silence, emptiness and my own thoughts…
I am alone…
All alone…
And it hurts…
~ Linda, September 2013

I know life goes on… That is a reality I have had to accept over the years…

At first, I couldn’t imagine ever smiling again, much less laughing. I couldn’t imagine celebrating anything. I couldn’t imagine a day without tears or a night where I would actually sleep peacefully all night long. In other words, I couldn’t imagine that life could possibly continue and be worth living without Bruce to share it with.

But…

I have learned to smile again. I have learned to have fun and to laugh again. I have learned to find new adventures. I have learned to be content in my own head. I have learned to try new adventures which push me beyond my comfort zone. In other words, I really am learning to live again… Only this time, I am learning how to do it without Bruce being physically by my side… without anyone to tell me how to make this work… without a clue of how to do this…

How? I can’t really say there has been a magic formula… All I know is every day I get back up, say a prayer for strength, put a smile on my face… and try again. In other words, it is an unending process to learn how “to be lonely” and still be okay… (It’s not an easy feat… It is a day by day challenge.)

However, down in my soul, I believe Bruce is watching… and smiling… and saying, “You can do this.”

Everyone deals with grief and the loneliness it creates in their own way and in their own time… These are only my thoughts and observations about this last year as I find myself muddling through life and tackling new challenges (some well beyond my comfort zone). Maybe grief has been that way for you, as well. Learning to navigate this journey tends to show us we are stronger than we thought we were, even when our loneliness leaves us feeling completely vulnerable.

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.