Month: April 2021

The Importance of Laughter

The sun sets at the end of the day.
The sky is pink.
I am reminded of you…
And I smile.

The full moon rises over the trees.
It lights up the world.
I am reminded of you…
And I smile.

The storm rolls in with its dark clouds.
It puts on a show for the world.
I am reminded of you…
And I smile.

The waves crash onto the beach.
There for a moment and then gone again.
I am reminded of you…
And I smile.

All around me life goes on.
I see you in every flower,
And feel you in the stir of the wind.
Your soul reaches out to me to remember…
I do…
And I smile.
~ Linda, 2013

There is a lot of stress in our house right now… Not because of anything bad, though. It’s all good things actually. My daughter who has been living with me for the past few years is getting married. He is a good man. In fact, he and I were friends before she ever came here to live, so you know he is top-notch on my list. They are also building a house and getting ready to move, which we all know is extremely exciting… and ridiculously stressful. There are boxes everywhere in our house – some holding items for the wedding; others holding household items for their new home.

On top of all of that, life is still moving forward with work and homeschooling and all the things that make up life. I am sure we can all relate… We have all had those moments in life where we can see the finish line where we know we will get some relief… We just have to figure out how to get there… Might I suggest a little laughter? I really think that is what we need a bit of right now. I say that because laughter has been such a blessing whenever I have found myself struggling to move forward in this journey.

I remember when I went through my divorce years ago. It took three years to get divorced, and life was extremely tense during that time and for a long time after. At one point, my mom sent me a CD of a comedian along with a note telling me I “needed to laugh.” As I put the CD into the player of my car, I shook my head thinking, “She doesn’t get it. My life is falling apart… I don’t think I can laugh anymore.” However, as is often the case, I was wrong, and my mom was right. Within a few short minutes, I was laughing so hard, I could barely breathe! It was such a great release!

Years later, when Bruce passed away, I found myself thinking I would never laugh again… It felt as if every bit of joy had been drained from my life. Once again, though, someone wiser than myself counseled me on the importance of finding some joy each day… Not just something to be grateful for (although can be a good place to start), but something that would make me smile… and, yes, maybe even laugh.

I will always remember the first time I laughed after Bruce passed away. A bunch of us were sitting around telling “Bruce Stories”, and before I knew it, I found myself laughing at some of the best memories ever! However, as soon as I realized what I was doing, I stopped short. How could I laugh? My world had fallen apart! What in the world did I have to laugh about?

As time passed, I found myself laughing at little things such the sayings of my (then) toddler grandson or a joke on the radio. However, each time I would catch myself… and stop. Those same feelings of “what did I have to laugh about?” kept returning… And each time, I let it steal my joy.

I’m not sure at what point or even who said it, but somewhere on this path, someone suggested that perhaps I needed to give myself permission to laugh. At about the same time, I started reading one of Bruce’s favorite, “go-to” books, The Importance of Living by Lin Yutang. Within the first few pages, he presents the idea that a sense of humor has the function of not letting us “bump our heads against the stone wall of reality.” In other words, to be wise we need to learn to combine our reality with our dreams and a sense of humor.

At this point, the door truly opened. If this book was Bruce’s “go-to” and these were the ideas of the author… perhaps… just perhaps, Bruce, himself, was trying to tell me that I needed to laugh again. And if I took that a step further, perhaps by giving myself permission to laugh, I was also giving myself permission to heal.

And so, I did…

It started slowly. I started retelling stories and sharing memories of Bruce and I that made me laugh. By starting there, I found that I could honor Bruce’s memory and find my healing through laughter all at the same time. I quickly found that other people who knew him, were more than willing to dive in and share their funny stories as well. Over the years, I have had people add their stories to my “collection” of precious moments – from Bruce’s high school buddy sharing stories of teenage shenanigans to his sisters and parents telling stories of his childhood. In each story, I have been able to recognize the man I loved and his mischievous sense of humor. I can picture that smile he used to get on his face when he thought he was getting away with something… And I have laughed… long and hard.

Yet, that is not the end; that was only the beginning. Once I let go of the guilt of feeling joyful, it began to sink in that I am still here for a reason. MY life isn’t over, and I needed to stop acting as if it were… And laughter has been my bridge back to a life worth living… A life I enjoy!

What a blessing! I must say that in the past few years, I have learned to be so thankful for the healing gift of laughter and the balance that a sense of humor can bring to our lives each and every day… no matter what our current reality holds.

So, that is my goal… over the next few weeks, as we move through these milestones, may we remember that laughter is a blessing, and a life worth living is one filled with joy.

“If we don’t pause,
the hardships of the world will slowly de-sensitize us from the simple joys that life has to offer.
Stop and take a breath.
Enjoy the moment without needing the moment to be perfect.
Life is what happens between the cracks of perfection.”
~ Erik Wahl

Nowadays, very time I find myself laughing, I also find myself thanking Bruce in my heart for opening my eyes to one more thing… and reminding me that I am not alone here. Sure, it can be easy to feel like this journey is nothing more than a very lonely path, especially since it is so different for each of us. Yet, our love for those we have lost is something we all share. Did you or have you ever struggled with the idea of laughing in the face of loss? How did you come to terms with it? Or do you still need support in that area? Would you be willing to share your story or your thoughts? 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. This is our community, and we are here for you. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

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Peace, Love and Grief… Don’t Should on Others

“Don’t ‘should’ on others.” ~ David Kessler

This week, I was listening to a webinar with grief expert, David Kessler. (If you haven’t heard of him or listened to him before, I would recommend giving him a listen.) In the middle of the program, he made an off-handed comment saying, “Don’t ‘should’ on others.” At first, it made me laugh simply because I absolutely loved it! It made so much sense in the moment… and especially through so many moments this past week.

I’m sure most of us can relate, whether you are grieving or not, because as people, we tend to do it to each other. Have you ever heard someone or even found yourself thinking, “they should …” or “they shouldn’t …”? I have. I hate to admit it, but I have. I think it is fairly common to the human experience… We tend to judge others’ behavior based on what we would or wouldn’t do.

Then, when you apply it to grief, especially your own grief (with others judging you), it is extremely frustrating. I can’t tell you how many times I have heard someone ask me how long I plan to grieve. Really? Well, there are two responses I always want to give: 1. Well, how long will they be dead? That’s probably going to be your answer… And 2. There is no plan. Death happened. I wasn’t given an opportunity to plan for it. So, my “plan” is to simply figure it out as I go along.

So… Please, don’t tell me I “should” get over it… I “shouldn’t still be grieving… I “should” move on… I “shouldn’t” ____ or I “should” ___… (fill in the blanks with something that makes the speaker more comfortable).

Yet, that comfort level is exactly what I mean… When we use that term, we are usually judging someone else based on what we would do… Because what we would do is also what makes us the most comfortable… And I am as guilty of that as anyone else. (Not when it comes to grief, but definitely when it comes to other things.) It just took hearing it this week and having someone explain the why behind it for the lights to come on for me.

I hate to admit it… I hate that I have been known to do this, as well. Yet, understanding this has led me to a few new thought processes. For example, instead of being offended or upset when someone makes a comment about my own grief, I now know that they are really talking about themselves and their feelings. It isn’t about me – not really. I also know that I need to be more aware of my own judgements and looking closely at why I feel the need to “should” them at all.

As a result, when all is said and done, my goal going forward is to just let it all go – what others are saying I “should” do and what I find myself saying others “should” do… It’s just not kind or fair to any of us. Let’s all just assume we are doing the best we can, give each other some room to breathe, and let the rest go.

This grief journey has been one of the most difficult experiences I have ever had. It has broken me down to the roots of my soul and has taken me years to feel some semblance of “normal.” Yet at the same time, it has opened my eyes to so many things I never took the time to think about before now… And every time I find myself thanking Bruce in my heart for opening my eyes to one more thing and reminding me that I am not alone here. Sure, it can be easy to feel like this journey is nothing more than a very lonely path, especially since it is so different for each of us. Yet, 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

Peace, Love and Grief… Just One More Time

Bruce’s birthday is coming up in just a few days. It’s really hard to believe I’ll be celebrating his birthday again without him. It was always such a big deal when he was alive. With the exception of one or two years, we always spent the week of his birthday with his folks on the Alabama coast. It was always such a fun week – days spent in the sun on the beach, dinners when his mom cooked all his favorite foods, and nights spent with his folks playing games or just telling stories and laughing.

I love those memories… I miss those days…

Before the pandemic, I would usually travel to some beach somewhere to celebrate… and remember. Then last year, the world shut down, and I couldn’t even make it out to our beach right here at home. This year, I didn’t even try to travel with everything (still) going on. However, I do plan to spend the day on the beach… sitting, writing, thinking, remembering… and (hopefully) relaxing.

Bruce’s birthday was always a week of relaxation for both of us… We looked forward to it for months! Life lately has been so busy. Sometimes it feels like every single second is already planned with the all the things that must be done now. So, the idea of taking even a day for Bruce and I most makes me feel like I should say, “Thank you, Babe, for still making sure I just relax every now and then,”

Between the busy-ness and his upcoming birthday, my mind has been all ever the place the past few days. So, I’m sure even this blog is going to be all over the place… with one thought leading to another.

For instance, once of Bruce’s sisters has a birthday just a few days earlier. This year a photo montage was put together for her, and I was asked to supply some pictures of her and Bruce. This turned into a wonderful amount of time spent pouring over photo albums of Bruce’s life from birth until our time together. The thing is Bruce wasn’t a fan of having his picture taken. So, to go through all those photos just makes me smile. I love seeing the moments in time – recognizing his mannerisms and facial expressions that which (evidently) were always a part of who Bruce was. These pieces of him, I know I will never forget because I am blessed with a permanent record to revisit at any time.

From there, I found myself wanting more, such as videos. However, those are harder to come by. I only have two videos of Bruce. (Again, he wasn’t a fan.) In one, he is playing with one of the cats, but he never says a word. I love watching it, though… I love watching the way he moves… and remembering. In the other video, he is playing with our grandson. It is a great video! We are all laughing, and the interaction between the two of them is adorable. In it, Bruce says one word… He laughs as our grandson tries to shoot M&Ms into Bruce’s mouth and says, “Almost!” That’s it… That is the only word I have.

When he died years ago, I had several voice messages that I used to play over and over, I loved hearing his voice… I especially loved the one where he said, “I just wanted to say ‘I love you, Babe.” However, I lost those years ago. I got a new phone about the same time the company changed the Voice Mail app, deleting all saved voice mails… including Bruce’s.

I hate that… I am so afraid of forgetting his voice… The inflections and cadence that was his… The sound I grew to love… The sound that filled my heart and calmed my soul… I would give anything to hear his voice just one more time… But for today – for this week – I will have to be content with the sound of his laughter and one simple “Almost!”… And some quiet time on our beach… and that’s okay.

This grief journey has been one of the most difficult experiences I have ever had. It has broken me down to the roots of my soul and has taken me years to feel some semblance of “normal.” Celebrating his birthday this week will bring its own challenges, I know. I will have to really push myself to stay out of the rabbit hole. I also know it is easy to feel like this journey is nothing more than a very lonely path, especially since it is so different for each of us. Yet, 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

Peace, Love, and Grief… Sometimes It’s Still a Struggle

This week, has been a little bit hard…

Hi Babe!
It’s getting closer and closer to your birthday. (Not that I need to tell you that.) Each time I think about it, though, I feel sad that you are no longer here to celebrate your day. I am so sorry… Sorry that I still miss you – that there are still times when I seem “stuck” somehow. But I am even more sorry that I couldn’t save you that night… And because of that, you are gone.

I know that everyone says there was nothing I could have done… Yet, somehow I still blame myself. I try no to dwell on it, but there are still times, like today, when I just can’t let it go. You were always there for me… and for my kids. I constantly said you were my hero… my whole world.

Then, one night – one moment – you needed me… and I failed you…

At first, I couldn’t even comprehend what was happening… I just thought you were dreaming. It took a few moments before I realized I couldn’t wake you. I finally turned on the light and tried again. Even once I finally made the decision to call 911, I was second guessing myself. What if you woke up and were upset that I had made a big deal over you…? You hated that kind of thing.

Then, I had to make sure the door was unlocked so the paramedics could get inside… And I had to find something hard to slide under your back, because you were too big, (and I was too small) to move you off the bed. Finally, I had to figure out how to actually get that thing under you. It took everything I had to lift you enough to slide it under you. It wasn’t until then, that I was finally able to start CPR.

So much precious time was already lost at that point…

I couldn’t tell you how long it really took – I have no idea. It was probably less that a minute, but it felt like forever. It felt like one of those dreams where you know you need to run, but your feet just won’t move… It’s like your shoes are made of concrete, and your brain is screaming at you to hurry up and move… But you just can’t!

I tried… I tried to hurry, but there was another part of me that just kept thinking this had to be a dream – a God-awful, terrible dream!

I can remember straddling your body and doing compressions on your chest… I can remember thinking that help was never going to get there. I can remember the voice of the 911 operator walking me through every motion and assuring me that help really was coming. I can remember looking at your face and begging you to open your eyes and look back at me…

But the problem was – you were already gone. I don’t think I realized that, though, until I watched the paramedics work on you. I remember exactly where I stood… and watched… I can remember… But none of it felt real… A life filled with this much love couldn’t end like this, could it?

I know I cried, because I can remember holding tissues, but I don’t remember how they ended up in my hand. I remember being asked a lot of questions as I stood there – watching – but I couldn’t tell you even one of the questions I was asked. I can remember the flurry and speed as they worked, while at the same time there was this other part of me that was so disconnected and kept thinking, “What a mess. I will need to clean this up before I can go to the hospital.” Please, don’t ask me why I thought that… I was probably in shock. I still didn’t think any of it was real… It just couldn’t be how “we” would end!

(deep breath… and another)

That was exactly how it ended… with you gone… and with me always wondering if I could have done something more to save you…

I am so very sorry, Babe! My heart is ripped to shreds… I still love you so very, very much… And that is forever!

This grief journey has been one of the most difficult experiences I have ever had. It has broken me down to the roots of my soul and has taken me years to feel some semblance of “normal.” Most days I think I am doing pretty good, but sometimes (like now) I am struggling. I have to really push myself to stay out of the rabbit hole. I know it is easy to feel like this journey is nothing more than a very lonely path, especially since it is so different for each of us. Yet, 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