July 2021 – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love, and Grief… Dancing in the Kitchen

Earlier this week, something popped into my Face Book feed – access to watch a live Jimmy Buffet concert via YouTube. (Thank you, Jimmy, and thank you, YouTube!) It never fails… If Jimmy Buffet is playing, I’m dancing… And in my soul, Bruce is there dancing with me… And my soul is completely at peace.

I know many times I’ve talked about the two of us dancing in the kitchen. I’ve also talked about meeting on a sailing schooner in the islands… But I’m not sure I’ve ever explained how they go together or why dancing in the kitchen holds such precious memories for me. It’s not a long story, but it’s the one I want to share today… Partly because it is a sweet story, but mostly because it has been on my mind all week, creating smiles throughout a week that has felt like chaos.

Yes, it all started on that 100-year-old sailing schooner where we boarded at a port in St. Thomas. I’ve already talked about how we met, so I won’t repeat that part. I want to jump ahead to the middle of the week…

Every night around 5 PM, one of two things happened. Either we were sailing for the next island so there was a party on the main deck with rum punch served liberally, or we were at another port and the entire ship (crew and passengers) all went ashore to enjoy the local night life. Either way, Bruce and I always managed to be together – dancing the night away. I love to dance… I have loved it my entire life. The problem is every else doesn’t always feel that way. (My first husband had a lot of energy – yes, but dancing was not his thing… So, we didn’t.)

So, here I was on my first trip as a single woman, and here was this man who was fun to be with, made me feel like I was the only woman in the world who mattered, made me laugh, and who danced every dance with me the entire cruise. I remember being on St. Johns at a bar called, Duffy’s. It was nothing more than a shack, and it was packed. At one point, the captain came over and asked to cut in and Bruce said, “No.” No explanation or second glance… just a “no” before he guided me to another part of the dance floor. I giggled. The captain was nice, but I wanted to dance with Bruce.

Later that same night, in that same bar, Bruce looked me in the eye, leaned over, and kissed me for the first time. Then he said, “You are the most incredible lady.” (I’m pretty sure I melted.) Later he laughed when he told me, he half expected me to slap him for “stealing” a kiss. I remember laughing and telling him that he didn’t “steal” anything… That kiss… That moment in time is forever etched in my heart.

***Dancing the night away onboard the Legacy***

Now let’s jump forward a year… same cruise, same time of year, same islands, same opportunities to dance. The only difference was we were now married, and this was our honeymoon. I was so excited with the anticipation of reliving that fabulous cruise from the year before. Bruce, however, had a different vision. We still went to the deck parties and the bars on the islands, but he wouldn’t dance. Every time I suggested we dance; he would just shake his head. I was so frustrated. I didn’t understand what had happened…

By the second night, I was beside myself. As we crawled in bed and turned out the lights, I let the tears come. Bruce pulled me into his arms and asked what was wrong. So, I told him… Last year, we had danced and danced, but now, on our honeymoon, he hadn’t danced with me even once, and I didn’t understand. I remember, Bruce looked genuinely confused. He looked me in the eye and said, “But now I know you love me. I’ve already won the prize. Why do I need to dance this year?”

He was completely serious, and I was completely caught off guard. So, I responded with the first thing that came to my heart, “Because I need to know you still love me.” Bruce didn’t say a word, he just held me close.

The next day, though, things changed. We didn’t dance every dance, but we did dance a lot… and each time he would lean in and whisper, “I love you.”

“I know,” I would respond with a grin.

But that isn’t the end… Once we were home, that is when the “kitchen dancing” started. We might be cooking dinner together, or in a heated discussion, or I might have just walked in the door from work. Next thing I know, he would turn on some Jimmy Buffet, pull me close, and we would dance… “I love you,” he would always whisper in my ear… And I knew he did.

This was us… This is one of my precious memories that brings peace to my soul… Thank you for the opportunity to share my story with you today. I know that sometimes this journey can feel so lonely. Yet, there are other times when I know I am not alone at all. We are here for each other. While this journey holds its own challenges and peace-filled moments for each of us, it is our love for those we have lost that brings us together to this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? 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.

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

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

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Peace, Love, and Grief… My Happy Place

I spent this morning sitting at the beach just enjoying the waves and the quiet. After a week of craziness, it was nice to just sit there and relax for a while. For me, there is nothing better… This is my happy place… The place where my brain reconnects with my heart and my soul smiles. Even before Bruce, the beach was where I always went to clear my mind and find peace. So many times, when life was hard, the ocean with its rhythms and vastness has always been the space where I escaped to.

I haven’t been out here very much over the last few years. Somewhere between the cancers and the business of life, my trips here have become fewer and fewer… And, if I am honest with myself, I could tell. My stress and anxiety had built up with no place to go. But I ignored it, as if it was just a normal part of life and nothing that I had any control over.

After spending the previous week at the beach, it dawned on me just how disconnected I had let myself become. Over time, I had brushed this beach time aside, telling myself that it was nothing more that a recreational thing. I was wrong… This is something I have been dearly missing. So, when I got home last weekend, I made the decision to “let myself” go out there at least two times a week… And (this first week) I have done just that.

I went on Monday, and despite the rain, which meant I had to be content to sit in my car and simply look through the windshield, it was still absolutely relaxing! That evening, I knew without a doubt that this has been the elixir I have been missing… This (for me) is an absolute need.

After Bruce died, I went out there daily even though it was the middle of winter. (Granted, a Florida winter is not that bad.) I would bundle up in a few layers, (which always included his favorite sweatshirt), shove my hands in my pockets, and walk that deserted strand for hours.

I think at the time, there was a part of me that was searching for Bruce. I so desperately wanted to go back to the life we had… to the person I had been… the person I was with Bruce by my side. It has taken me years, though to realize that that person is gone… And I can never get her back. There are parts of her I have found again – her strength, her determination, her love for her family and for life. Still, there are parts of her that I will never see again – her innocent belief in “happily ever after”, that belief that our love would be all we needed to grow old together.

I don’t mean to sound cynical, because I’m not… I am simply referring to the innocence of being so madly and completely in love that the idea of it ever ending never, ever crossed my mind… And now, that is different. Now, I know how precious every moment truly is. Now, I know without a doubt that I don’t want to waste any of that time being angry, frustrated, or anxious, especially about things that won’t matter (or be remembered) even days from now.

I want to take each precious moment and savor it. I want to pull everything good out of each day and hang onto it… Because what if there isn’t a tomorrow? Bruce didn’t get a tomorrow… And I thank God every day that we went to bed laughing and snuggled up in each other’s arms. I don’t know if I could have lived with myself if that last night together had been any different.

Then… as now… I need this space by the ocean… This space where I have always felt God, where I can’t help but sing or hum all the old hymns of praise as I walk along the shoreline… And now, this is also the space where I feel Bruce deep in my soul… where the memories of precious moments spent here together help me find my own peace… here, where my soul is happiest.

Thank you for the opportunity to share my story with you. Sometimes, this journey can feel so lonely and other times I know I am not alone at all. For each of us this journey holds its own challenges and peace-filled moments. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together to this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? 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.

Peace, Love, and Grief… The Initial Shock

This week as we prepare to celebrate the Fourth, I keep finding myself reading the news about the collapsed high-rise in South Florida. My mind bounces from the horror of those last few moments for the people inside to the need for the families to understand how and why this happened at all to the pain of the families who have lost or don’t have a final word about their loved ones. The whole thing makes no sense… It’s awful, and I can’t even begin to imagine their pain.

Yesterday, it was announced that the remaining part of the building is too unstable to withstand the coming storm, and the order for demolition has been given. While the Search and Rescue teams will continue, it has been days with no survivors. For the families who have held out hope against hope, all of this has to be devastating… And my heart breaks for each and every one.

I remember that moment when the reality of Bruce’s death was placed in my lap… And yet, I had no idea what that meant… I had no idea of the magnitude of what that would truly involve. I mean, I knew Bruce was dead when we were driving to the hospital. I can remember calling my parents from the backseat of the police car and flatly saying, “Bruce is dead.” I remember the Emergency Room doctor confirming it a short time later, as well as the hospital chaplain who came to “offer comfort.”

However, there is a shock that happens to many of us at that time. I think it is meant to protect us from what we cannot handle… to keep us from going completely mad… People tell us the logical facts of the death before us. Our rational brains understand the words… But the actual comprehension of that loss doesn’t occur for a while… For me, it was months.

I have vague memories of that time, but they feel more like dreams than real life. I can remember wandering from room to room looking for… what? Bruce? Yes? Maybe? I couldn’t tell you, since logically I knew he wasn’t there. At other times I would sit for hours staring at… nothing…Waiting on… nothing… Just unable to move.

“I know what it’s like to look around a room, eyes glassy with pain, and feel so very alone.”
~ Lisa Terkeurst, Forgiving What You Can’t Forget

That went on for months… It wasn’t until that shock started to lift that my mind was finally able to start dealing with the grief and pain. Before that, it was too much to manage. The strange part was throughout all that time, I continued to move through my everyday life doing all the normal, everyday things… Most people thought I was okay… Maybe even “fine.” After all, it had been months. They had no idea that I had simply been in too much shock to actually feel anything yet.

Then, when I finally did start to feel again, it had been a while, and people – those people – were shocked. They couldn’t understand why I wasn’t “over it.”

Sigh…

There was such an avalanche of feelings at that point – anger, heartbreak, fear, loneliness, abandonment, cynicism… You name it, I felt it.

Does that mean everyone’s grief is that way? No… Of course not! Our grief and how we work through it is as personal as our fingerprints. This means we can empathize with someone else’s loss, but we can’t experience it, nor tell them how to experience it… We can only come along beside them and help hold them up as they grieve. To those people who did that for me, I am eternally grateful. For by allowing me the space for my grief, I have been able to heal in my own time, and in my own way.

“It’s hard to move forward when you feel like you never properly said good-bye or resolved your memories.”
~ Sarah Bessey, Out of Sorts

Thank you for the opportunity to share my story with you. Sometimes, this journey can feel like 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 the sharing of our stories is also important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? 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.

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

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