Month: February 2021

Peace, Love and Grief… Sympathy, Empathy, or None of the Above

It’s been about a year since we started homeschooling my grandson. Every 4 – 6 weeks we pick up a new “life skill” to embrace. We have learned about all kinds of things – etiquette, nutrition, organization, conversation skills, etc. This week, we moved into the realm of “empathy and kindness to others.” One morning this week, we were watching a video from Brene Brown, (the queen of empathy in my book).

The point of the video was to explain the difference in sympathy and empathy. To do so, it showed a fox falling into a pit. When his bear friend saw him there, he immediately climbed down into the pit with him. He knew he couldn’t fix the situation but understood that just being there… just climbing into the pit with the fox was the one thing he could offer. The mere act of sitting with the fox in his time of trouble was the bear’s way of showing he understood, he cared, and he was there.

After a while, a gazelle happened by and peered into the pit. “Oh my,” she exclaimed, “How terrible!” Then she went on acting as if all was normal – making small talk and offering to make a sandwich.

After watching this, my grandson asked, “So empathy is good, but sympathy is bad?”

“No,” I responded. “It is just a different way of responding.” Then I went on to explain…

It is different levels of commitment to the person hurting. Empathy is when we truly understand the other person’s pain. Maybe we have been there before. Either way, it is when we care so much that we can feel the depth of their pain and hurt. We can’t fix their pain, but we are willing to simply be there… to sit with them and hold their hand for as long as they need.

Sympathy is when we understand the other person is hurting, but maybe we don’t truly understand how bad the pain is or we aren’t close enough to the other person to truly feel their pain… Sympathy is still a kindness, it just doesn’t have the same depth of commitment.

This, then, led me to think of my own friendships… And how traumatic events have a way of separating our friends into those who are filled with empathy, those who offer sympathy, or those who just can’t deal with it at all and choose “none of the above” as they walk away from the relationship entirely.

Like most adults, I have been through several traumatic events in this lifetime. Each time I have had the same experience…

There have been friends who couldn’t handle it. For one reason of another (I will probably never know what those reasons were), they chose “None of the above.” For one reason or another, they simply excused themselves from caring, and moved on. However, for me, it felt like they simply made the choice to walk away.

Each time though, there have been other people who readily showed they cared. They were able to offer a hug or some nice words of comfort. There were times when they tried to offer well-meaning advice. (Although, generally speaking, they weren’t really around enough for that.) These were usually people who were in “my circle” but not my BFF’s. The fact that they cared meant a lot to me, and I appreciated their kindness and heartfelt sympathies.

Then, finally, there have been the people who were willing to climb down into the pit with me. These are the people who never tried to fix things… or me. They simply offered me the solace of their companionship. They have sat with me as I cried or hugged me in my darkest moments… And despite how hard it has been, they seem to always understand and are always there for me.

The craziest thing about this particular group… the thing that has surprised me the most every time is this… With the exception of my sister and one or two other people, this group is usually formed by people outside my closest relationships… These are people I may not have been particularly close to before the trauma. Yet, they are the people who understood the intensity of the pain and stepped in to help me bear it.

Of all the traumatic events I have experienced, I think losing Bruce has been the hardest. It has been over eight years, and I am still grieving. (Even as I write this, the tears are filling my eyes.) Even though I had experienced the different reactions of people before, I was (and still am) surprised by the people who have chosen to walk away… People I thought would be there for me come what may.

At the same time, though, I have also been just as shocked by the people who have stepped into my life… People who have held my hands as I worked my way through mountains of paperwork, and people who have sat with me and simply held me as I cried. These people – the ones who have blessed me with their unending empathy – are my heroes. I don’t know that I would have survived any crisis, especially the loss of Bruce, without these loving souls by my side.

So… To those who needed to walk away, that’s okay. We can only do what we are able to do in any given moment. To those who offered me your sympathy, thank you. Your caring words of comfort still fill my heart, and I appreciate your kindness.

And to those who have given me your empathy… In Barbara Brown Taylor’s book, Learning to Walk in the Dark, she says, “After years of being taught that the way to deal with painful emotions is to get rid of them, it can take a lot of reschooling to learn to sit with them instead.” This is what you have done for me… You helped me learn to sit with my grief. For this, I owe you my life, because I couldn’t have survived these past eight years without you… From the depths of my soul, Thank You!

Those of us on this journey know that grief is challenging. We know what it is like to watch friends walk away or for strangers to step up. Sometimes we may feel like this journey is nothing but a very lonely path, especially since it is so different for each of us. However, our love for those we have lost is something we all share. I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe 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. * 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

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Peace, Love and Grief… My Own Journey

Time changes nothing on its own…
That is my job now.
This is a journey.
It is mine…
I must own it to survive it.
~ Linda, September 15, 2013

When I left my teaching career and joined the corporate world, travel quickly became a part of the job. Over the years I have traveled all over the continental U.S. – sometimes with others, most times alone. While this past year corporate travel has been restricted, either alone or with my little family, we have still rented homes and traveled here and there. We travel by car, keep our distance and are safe, but we do it because we just seem to have a need for a change of scenery. Sometimes we have gone to places that are so familiar it is almost like going home, and other times we have no idea where we are going or how to get there.

Without fail, we seem to always have a wonderful time. Yet, I can say without question that after being away for a while, it is always a treat to come back home. However, as anyone grieving can attest, the journey home isn’t always an easy one either…

I know… This is simply the way life is. Life is filled with journeys – true journeys and metaphorical journeys. It is how we grow and learn and develop. It is how we discover new things about ourselves and how we expand our lives. In fact, when we suffer loss, what is it called? Exactly – the world calls it a “grief journey.”

Like all journeys, there is something to be learned along this path… Unlike other journeys, we did not choose this one. It is not a path anyone would willingly take, but we weren’t given an option. And to make it a little bit more difficult, the only choices are to move forward or stand still. So many times, over the past few years, I have hesitated… not quite willing to take the next step. Eventually, though, I have managed to take a breath and put one foot in front of the other… moving tentatively until I get my bearings.

Last week, I wrote about when Bruce and I met while cruising in the Virgin Islands. So, it only seemed fitting that through the years of our marriage, we did a lot of traveling together. Like any journey, you learn a lot about a person when you travel with them. Bruce and I were no different. We learned right away that traveling in a car for any extended period of time was not the best idea. Why? Well, Bruce did not eat or drink while driving, and he liked it quiet. I, on the other hand, like to eat, drink, sing, talk, play games, etc. (In other words, I like to be entertained.) In fact, it was during one such trip from Michigan to Alabama that I learned Bruce didn’t like opera. I was driving and he was napping… So, to stay awake, I sang opera for hours. Guess who was not amused… Go figure! In all honestly, though, it was a good learning experience that we laughed about for years!

Several times I have written about the night Bruce died and the ride back home from the hospital – alone. It still feels like just yesterday… I can remember thinking that this would be my life now… always coming home alone to no one – just an empty house. What I did not realize was the enormity of what that would entail. Even all these years later, I can say that there are still days that can feel quite daunting. So much so that sometimes I find myself hesitating before I even get out of my car and walk inside.

The expanse of this lone journey began to dawn on me in the early weeks after Bruce’s death. I would turn the corner and see Bruce’s truck in the driveway. My first instinct was happiness and excitement. Bruce was home! Then, just as quickly, it would hit me full force and I would remember… Bruce was not home; no one was home. The only reason his truck sat there for as long as it did was because I couldn’t bring myself to sell it. Yet, even months later after I did (finally) sell his truck, I learned that coming home still wasn’t any easier.

In fact, there are still days when I find myself wishing with my whole being that he would be there to greet me when I walk through the door. While I no longer cry or breakdown, I think there will always be a part of me that secretly wishes for all of this to be a dream… That somehow I will wake up and he will be there waiting to greet me with a hug and a smile.

Right now, with my daughter and grandson here, it is easier to come on inside. There is almost always someone here to shout “hello” from another room, (although I know that will not always be the case). I know, the time will come again when I will come home to a house that is (again) quiet and empty. I am sure I will (at times) find myself sitting in the driveway for a few moments gathering my thoughts, my emotions (and my courage) before I go inside. Yet, I also know I will just as quickly remember how blessed I am to have shared this space with Bruce at all… And to still be able to live here… in this space that was ours. This space where I so often feel his presence and remember the love and life we shared.

I guess what I am saying is that through the years, I have learned to look (more often) at what I still have versus what I don’t. I am learning to look for the blessings and be thankful for them, which has been my way of moving forward through this journey.

We all know grief is challenging, and with some days or scenarios harder than others. Sometimes this journey can feel like a lonely path, especially since it is so different for each of us. However, our love for those we have lost is something we all share. I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. When we open our hearts to one another and take a chance, we can survive whatever lies ahead. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe 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. * 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… Valentine’s Challenge

Well, here we are again… Another Valentine’s Day. A day dedicated to love and snuggles, hearts and roses. It is also the time of year when Face Book is filled with some kind of “Valentine’s Challenge.” Some years it is as simple as “post a pic of the person you love,” and other years it is more detailed with something like “tell how you met the person you love.”

Honestly, I used to love these when Bruce was here. I loved bragging about this man I loved, telling stories of how we met or posting pictures… sharing all the small ways he would show his love, which weren’t small to me at all. However, when he died, I hated seeing all those posts… It sounds so selfish, but my grief over losing Bruce and jealousy of people whose lovers were still by their sides seemed overwhelming.

It has taken several years, and while the pain of losing Bruce is still there, I can now look at those posts from others and smile. I won’t lie and say that Valentine’s is a day I love… I think it will always be a reminder of the fact that Bruce and I are on different planes. However, this year I actually found myself smiling at posts about other couples… Remembering that feeling of love and pride has been good for my soul (even if there is still a part of me that wants to cry).

It’s hard to explain, but I’ve never thought people shouldn’t post about their loved ones. There was never a moment when I thought, “They shouldn’t do that because it causes me pain.” Somehow that would seem a bit hypocritical to me since I love talking about Bruce even now. Yet, I also know that if I were to add my story of how we met or post pictures of the two of us on those same challenges, it would make things very awkward, and that would never be my goal.

So instead… While it’s a story I know I have told before, I thought I would share it again… here… where it is safe… Because in my world, it is the greatest love story ever!

It all started on the island of St. Thomas. The year was 2004, and it was the day after Christmas. I was traveling with my (then) 17-year-old son. My daughters had been invited along, but each had other places to be in that last week before school would be back in session. We had been traveling since about 3 AM that morning, and both of us were tired but filled with excitement. As we boarded the 100-year-old sailing schooner with 123 other passengers and crew, we were greeted with island music and drinks. The charm and magic of the islands was on the breeze and in every breath we took.

Almost immediately, we were taken to the cozy dining room to fill out some forms. There were about six other people at our table, and we were all handed a stack of forms to fill out as we were seated. Immediately, I realized we had been given all these forms, but nothing with which to write. Being a teacher, I was prepared, and promptly started handing out pens and pencils. As I turned to the gentleman on my right, I couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. When I asked if he needed something to write with, he reached into his bag, pulled out a pen, smiled back and said, “No, thank you. I have one.”

I have to say, I was a little disappointed. I remember thinking how it would have been the perfect opportunity for him to borrow a pen, “forget” to give it back, and use that as an excuse to talk again later. Then again, maybe he just wasn’t interested…

That night, there was a steel band dance party on board. Everyone was laughing, dancing, and having a blast. As I went over to the bar for a drink, there he sat… quietly sipping a beer and watching the party. I sat down beside him to order my drink, and we started talking. He was so nice, and the conversation was easy… We didn’t have to work at it at all… It just flowed. We must have sat like that for about an hour, when suddenly at 10 pm, (like Cinderella at the ball), he stood up and said it had been a long day and he was heading to bed.

What?!? Who does that? Who just gets up and walks away in the middle of a conversation?? “Someone who isn’t that interested,” I told myself.

My son and I spent the next day exploring and parasailing. This was a trip of a lifetime, and we were determined to “do it all!” That night, as I went to get a drink, there was that same gentleman. Only this time, he waved me over to join him. I was a little skeptical, but figured “why not?” We sat there for several hours that night – talking and laughing. Other people came and went – some joining our conversation while others just listened. The longer I sat there, the more charming he seemed. However, I was determined, he wasn’t going to abandon me again. So, at 10 pm before he could say a word, I turned the tables… I told him it had been a long day and said “goodnight.”

I always laugh when I tell that part of the story… What a waste of a perfectly good evening! But I was determined, I could be just as aloof or mysterious as he could.

The next day, my son and I had signed up for a kayaking trip. As we were standing in line to get our kayaks, our guide announced that there weren’t enough single kayaks, which meant he needed 6 people to volunteer to double up. Those six would use three double kayaks. My son turned to me and asked if I minded if he went in a single kayak and ran to join up with his friends in the front. I had told him sure but actually I was a little wary about what that would mean for me. Just then, Bruce walked up from behind and asked if I wanted to share a kayak with him. Did I?? Um… of course!

As it turns out, though, my son was more observant than I would have guessed. Before Bruce and I could locate a kayak, Alex was back by my side telling me that he was going to ride with me, after all. Then, he turned to Bruce and pointed to the single kayak he had been about to use. “You can use that one. I’m gonna stick with my Mom,” he said. (Talk about a proper chaperone!)

That night, the crew took the passengers on shore to a bar called Duffy’s Love Shack. We filled the place, and I found myself dancing mostly with Bruce and the ship’s captain… What a blast! At one point, I was standing at the bar waiting for my drink when Bruce walked over to join me. We stood there talking for a minute, when the magic hit, and he leaned down and gently kissed me… That was our first kiss, and I will always remember how wonderful I felt… It was so perfect!

As the week went on, my son and I spent our days together. Then at night, my son would go off with the other teens on the boat, and Bruce and I would hang out on deck – talking, laughing, dancing, and drinking. It was the best time I could have ever imagined!

The week passed quickly, and our last night on board was New Years Eve. As Bruce and I were dancing, one of the passengers walked by and said that there was something special about the two of us, and if we were smart, we wouldn’t stop when we got off the boat. I remember Bruce looking down at me and saying that he agreed… He really felt like he could fall in love with me.

That was it… I wasn’t looking for love! I had been married for over 20 years, and I wasn’t interested in doing that again. So, I did what I have always done… I ran away. Well, actually, I excused myself to go to the restroom, but instead I went back to my cabin and went to bed. It wasn’t long before Bruce tapped on the door to see if I was okay. I don’t remember what I said, but I am sure it amounted to “I’m tired, please go away.”

The next day as we were all waiting to disembark, Bruce came over and sat down next to me. I told him that I was sorry if I had led him on, but I was only there to have fun… We lived over 1000 miles apart… I was a Catholic School teacher, and he was a truck driver… This would never work. He didn’t say much – just nodded that he understood. Then, he made an excuse about getting more coffee and walked away.

Then… I cried all the way home… Deep in my gut I knew I had just walked away from the best thing that had ever happened to me…

But the story didn’t end there (obviously)… As it turned out, all the passengers that week had become a tight knit group. We set up a group site on the internet and exchanged pictures, email addresses, and phone numbers. It only took a day or two, before I decided I had made a mistake, and I wanted to fix it… I was terrified, but I reached out to Bruce to see if we really could “make this work.”

And as they say… the rest is history.

Six weeks later, I was on my way to Michigan to spend some time with this man. (This weekend is the anniversary of that trip.) We wanted to see if this really was more than a shipboard romance. (It was!) Then, ten months later, I found myself moving to Michigan, and we were married.

I have no regrets about any of this – from the day we met to the day we were married and to the day he died … I am convinced that every moment happened the way it was meant to. Like any relationship, we had our ups and downs, but ours was probably the easiest relationship I have ever experienced. I know I was blessed to have known a love like ours, and I will always be grateful for the time we had. I also believe that he is waiting for me on the “other side,” and one day, we will laugh together again…

Because a love like ours never dies…

I know grief is challenging, and today can be a hard one if you have lost the love of your life. Sometimes this journey can feel like the loneliest path since it is different for each of us. However, our love for those we have lost is something we all share. I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. When we open our hearts to one another and take a chance, we can survive whatever lies ahead. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. Maybe you could share the story of how you met? If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe 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. * 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… Walking in the Dark

Over the past several weeks, I have been reading Barbara Brown Taylor’s book, Learning to Walk in the Dark. It is a spiritual book about our conviction to assign good with light and bad with dark, whether physical, spiritual, psychologically, etc. In the book, she makes the argument that there is good and bad in both the light and the dark… That to live a full life we not only need to experience both, we need to accept both as neither good nor bad… Instead, each are necessary with their own rhythms, qualities, and comforts. Without one, there is no way to appreciate and fully understand the other.

I love that idea. Sure, I will readily admit that I am the first one to turn on all the lights as the sun goes down. I am sure it is my vain attempt to keep the darkness “out there” while lighting up the world around me. But… is that necessary? And when applied as an analogy, is that the best way to live?

I’m really not here to debate that… In fact, as I write this, while it is the middle of the day, a storm is rolling in and it is dark enough at my table that I have turned on the light above me. But then again, the author didn’t say light was bad either… Her point is to accept both as they are… not to assign qualities that aren’t there.

This week, I have found myself pondering this over and over. In fact, there was one section that I can’t seem to let go…

“To be human is to live by sunlight and moonlight, with anxiety and delight, admitting limits and transcending them, falling down and rising up. To want a life with only half of these things in it is to want half a life, shutting the other half away where it will not interfere with one’s bright fantasies of the way things ought to be.”

~ Barbara Brown Taylor, Learning to Walk in the Dark

This section has had me contemplating my life since Bruce died… I know I have used darkness in many analogies about grief… I suppose that is because it feels true for me. Yet, I am afraid of walking down this path with grief as my lantern. There is a fear of this path that is hard to describe… It is a fear of being alone… and a fear of not being alone… There is the dread of being abandoned, and yet I no longer seem to welcome new friendships with the open arms I once did.

That is when I realized, as scared as I am to be on this path… to walk in the dark… I believe I may be just as scared, if not more so, to get off. I guess, the unknown darkness has become familiar. Or… Perhaps I am terrified of ever going through anything like Bruce’s death ever again. I don’t know that I would survive it a second time.

Yes, I know I will experience more death in the time ahead… That is life and I am getting older, and that just is what it is. However, the idea of opening up enough to let anyone new into my life and then losing them… I can’t do it… I just don’t have enough of whatever that takes. The darkness I felt all around me after Bruce died was blinding… I was numb for so long… unable to feel… not wanting to move… or breathe… just sitting in my darkness and letting it envelope me.

While it has been a few years since I felt that way, I can remember that feeling like it was only this morning, and I don’t want to go back there. There are still days when I must remind myself that life is good, and I am blessed. When I think of Bruce, there are still days when I have to decide whether I am going to remember our time together and smile or think of his death and cry. I’m not trying to be melodramatic; I am just being honest about what this felt like then, and what it still feels like.

It may seem strange, but some of the best comfort I have found over the years comes when I think of my grandfather. We called him, Pop, and he was a huge piece of my life. My father wasn’t around much in my younger years, but my Pop, well… he was always there. They lived behind us, and he always had time for this silly little girl who just wanted to be hugged and held.

I sat by him in church whenever I could finagle it. I loved sitting in his lap on Sunday afternoons… The two of us in his big old chair with my head on his chest – listening to him talk and laugh. The summer I learned to drive, he took me in his car, and we drove around the block… over and over and over… No matter what was going on in my life, I always knew he would be there.

But life wasn’t easy for him; he was a man who had a rough start in life. Both of his parents died when he was younger, and he was sent to live with his aunts. After 7th grade, he had to quit school and go to work to support the family. Yet, as I remember him, he always had a smile. He never backed away from life’s challenges but seemed to meet them head on. And why? To me, it just seemed like he had a faith that knew no bounds. One of his favorite hymns, which seemed to express his faith, was How Great Thou Art…

This week I needed to hear that song… At the time, I didn’t know why. Yet, when I hunted it down and listened, so much seemed clear… I think I simply needed a piece of Pop’s faith… When the words came, “I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder. Thy power throughs out the universe displayed. Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee. How great Thou art, how great Thou art,” * it hit me… Pop had not only learned to walk in the dark, but he also had learned to find the good there… the blessings and comfort that lay quietly within its rhythms.

His faith allowed him to see that even when it was dark, God provided stars to light the way… Even when the thunder rolls, God is near…. Because of his faith, I understood – I am not on this path alone… and grief is not my only light. There is a peace here in the darkness… a peace that, with time, can build in me the courage I need to live fully by sunlight and by moonlight.

* How Great Thou Art, original poem by Carl Gustav Boberg

Grief is challenging. It can feel like the loneliest path at times since it creates a different path for each of us. However, just because our journeys may be different, it doesn’t mean we have to be alone. We can find courage and strength in one another. We can shyly open our hearts to one another and take a chance that we can survive whatever lies ahead. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe 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. * 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.