January 2022 – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love, and Grief… Grief is Not a Problem

Grief it not a problem… Yep, you read that right. It’s not a problem… You see a problem has a solution. Grief, however, has no solution. It is not something to be figured out and fixed. Instead, it is something you just have to push through – learning whatever lessons there are along the way. In other words, I would say it is more of a process. It is a way of dealing with a loss (any loss), and finding your way without that person or thing you lost.

I have grieved different things throughout my lifetime… the loss of grandparents, the loss of a child, the loss of my first marriage and all its dreams, the financial loss of everything I owned, and the list could go on and on. The greatest… no – hardest loss I have ever experienced, though, is the loss of Bruce… The loss of my best friend… The loss of a love that was complete and without conditions. That grief has been a process for me.

In the beginning, I was as naïve as most people when it came to loss and grief. The only real grief I had known had been met with platitudes of “life moves on” or “your grief shows your faith is small” and so many others. But those are lies!!

Yes, life does move on, but it is different and learning how to navigate that path is a process. No, grief is not an expression of the size or amount of your faith. Jesus cried when his friend died. Plus, if God was so okay with death in the first place, then what was the point of the death and resurrection? No… It is still a process of coming to terms with the loss, and honestly, I believe in my heart of hearts that God cries right along with us when we grieve. Of course, he would… If empathy and compassion are the things that are most helpful when we are grieving, then why would I choose to believe that God would offer me anything less?

In the beginning, I also thought of grief as a problem to be solved. I thought if I did all the right things – read the right books, went to the support groups, listened to the right speakers, etc., then once I had gone through the checklist, I would feel better. I would be okay. The “problem” of my grief would be resolved and put away.

But that isn’t the way it works… not at all…

I did all those things. I worked really hard to be a “good widow.” As I moved into the second year, I thought, “Okay, I have done all the things… It has been a full year… I have been through all the holidays, and ‘first-time-without-him’ things… Now, I should be feeling better.” I quit wearing black all the time and waited expectantly for life to pick up and go back to the way it was… (only without Bruce).

But unfortunately, I was wrong. Grief isn’t that way. Over time is has become different, but it is still a part of my life. I remember reading (at some point) that the grief I felt would never go away, but it would diminish… It would be like a scar or a limp – a permanent reminder of a great pain.

Meh… I can’t say that I totally agree with that.

I will agree that the pangs of grief hit less often. However, the intensity… the pain… the loneliness and feelings of abandonment are just as deep as they were on day one… Maybe even more so, because now, I recognize that this is just how my life is. Yes, the frequency of the waves of grief is less often, but that is the only thing that is “less”.

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about the anniversary of Bruce’s death and how I was not handling it well this year. For whatever reason, I really struggled this year. My depression and grief took root, and I wasn’t sure I could shake it. It lasted for several very long weeks.

This is the way life is… tsunamis of grief at both expected and unexpected times, and each time, there are different means of coming up for air and pushing myself back out of the storm. This year, there were two things that pulled me through. One was a nice long walk on a deserted beach. This was something I had not been able to do for the past few years due to weather. However, this year it was a warm, sunny day. I don’t know if it was the sunshine, the rhythmic sound of the waves, or the fact that I always feel Bruce when I am there, but it was definitely cathartic. My soul felt a peace that I had not been able to find for weeks.

The second was a gift from friends whom I have not seen in over a decade. Two dear people reached out and sent me something called a comfort blanket. It is blue and covered with words such as “love”, “compassion” “strength”, “spirit”, “warm hugs”, “healing”, “courage”, etc. The back side is fleece, and it is the warmest, softest blanket I have ever encountered. As soon as it came, I snuggled up under it.

I know it sounds silly, but I would swear to you I can feel the love of my friends every time I touch it… And I touch it a lot. (I can’t help myself. It is quite soothing.) In fact, despite having tons of throws and blankets around this house, this one has become my favorite. I would almost go so far as to say it is my adult security blanket. Every morning, I snuggle under it as I sip my tea and do my journaling. I use it every mid-day when I lay down to rest and relax; and I crawl back under it at night as I sit in my rocker and read or watch TV.

The love and comfort I feel there has made a huge difference in this current part of my process. Knowing that people care… that they don’t think I’m crazy for still grieving… that there is no judgement or silly platitudes in connection with this blanket is probably the best thing about it.

Whatever it is, it has been helpful, and I can’t express enough gratitude to those who cared enough to reach out when I felt so completely alone… So, no… Grief is not a problem… It is simply a process that has many twists and turns. Each day, it brings a different experience and I learn something new about how to keep moving forward on this path.

Thank you, Michelle and Daniel! And thank you to all of my friends and family who have not given up on me, but instead continue to simply love me as I find my way.

Grief is hard. Each day offers new hope and new tears. I know it has changed me in ways I could never have prepared for, and in ways no one else might understand. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. I would guess that none of us wants to be on this path. Yet, this is where life has landed us. And at least for now, this is where we are. For me, life is now filled with challenges I never imagined. And each time I think I have it figured out; I find I haven’t at all. However, at this point in my journey, I know I have to simply let myself feel what I feel, while at the same time, looking at this life before me and finding the joy, love, and hope life still holds… Then, learning to hold onto that with everything I have.

Thanks to you, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into 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.

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Peace, Love, and Grief… Some Thoughts on Grief

I have spent this week, simply working to get myself back on the right track… To look inside and try to determine not only what I think about this grief journey so far, but why I think what I think. No, there was no great revelation that made my grief disappear, only a few small insights that (hopefully) will keep me moving forward… willing to not just survive but to enjoy this life and all that is still before me.

While abandonment is probably the strongest emotion I have felt since Bruce died, the second strongest emotion I have felt has been anger… I wouldn’t admit it at first. In fact, I denied it for a very long time, but despite the words coming out of my mouth, I was angry – VERY angry. I was angry at God for letting Bruce die. I was angry at Bruce for dying. (Sounds silly, but I was.) I was angry at myself for not saving him. I was angry at other couples for still having each other. (Mix that one with a lot of jealousy.) I was angry at people who tried to comfort me with what felt like tedious phrases and advice. (Sorry… But at first, I wasn’t interested in feeling better. What I wanted was for the earth to open up and swallow me whole.) … In other words, I was angry – plain and simple.

And… to be honest, each year in January, I get angry all over again. I don’t know why exactly, and I try really hard not to… So why?? Why is anger still my go-to when my grief comes in like a tsunami and threatens to take over my world again?

I’m still not completely sure, but I did run across this earlier this week, and it struck a chord for me…

“Every bit of it still makes me cry sometimes. It’s so dang unfair. Even worse, it’s all so dang unchangeable. And unchangeable can absolutely feel unforgivable. I grieve over it all. Grieving is like dreaming in reverse… But when you are grieving over something or someone that was taken away, you wish you could go back in time. You dream in reverse.” ~ Lysa Terkeurst, Forgiving What You Can’t Forget

How true… The unfairness of it all. The fact that it is completely unchangeable. The loss of so many dreams and plans… But mainly, the loss of a relationship that was such an essential part of who I was (and never would be again).

Because of all that, I guess I really do dream in reverse. I never thought about it that way before. However, I do find myself thinking about how things would be if he were still here. Would we have followed our dream of retiring years ago and cruising the islands in the Caribbean? Would we still be in this house? What would we be doing? Yesterday? Today? Tomorrow?

These are the questions I think about all the time without even meaning to… It is just how I think these days. I know my life is still happening. I know there are still people who make me feel loved, and circumstances that still bring me joy. Yet, at the same time, my mind always finds its way back to the “what if…” thoughts of my grief.

“Instead of hoping for what will one day be, you long for a more innocent time when you lived more unaware of tragedy. But the griever knows they can’t go back in time. So, healing feels impossible, because circumstances feel unchangeable.” ~ Lysa Terkeurst, Forgiving What You Can’t Forget

I really do miss that naïve person I used to be… That person who believed that love could conquer anything, and “happily ever after” was a real possibility in my world. But… now I know better. (And I can’t change that.) I know that life is life and death is a part of that. I know that my wishes may not all come true. However, I was blessed with the best wish ever… My wish to be loved unconditionally and completely came to fruition in Bruce. I will always be thankful for that, and I will probably always grieve that loss of that. However, maybe having a better understanding of how all this plays itself out in my head and heart will be helpful going forward… And maybe (hopefully) I can learn to recognize that simmering anger before it takes over and learn to feel it, then let it go… I hope…

Grief is hard. I know it has changed me in ways I could never have prepared for, and in ways no one else might understand. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. I would guess that none of us wants to be on this path. Yet, this is where life has landed us. And at least for now, this is where we are. For me, life is now filled with challenges I never imagined. And each time I think I have it figured out, I find I haven’t at all. However, at this point in my journey, my goal is to let myself feel what I feel, while at the same time, looking at this life before me and finding the joy and the hope life still holds… Then, I want to hold onto that with everything I have.

Peace, Love, and Grief… Dear Bruce

I feel like I’m swimming in the dark.
On a moonless night, my frail arms and legs thrash about in black despair.
I can’t see where I’m going or where I’ve been.
I can’t see the danger lurking beneath the surface,
But I know it’s there.
I am terrified of losing what little independence I have left.
I grope for a glimmer of purpose to keep me afloat,
But I cannot find it.
Floundering. Gasping for air.
In thick water, I can feel but cannot see.
Then I sense your voice speaking to me stirring my soul:
“Look up, child.
Put your feet on the rock bottom.
It is solid ground. Holy ground.
Stand up and live.”
~ Missy Buchanan, Talking with God in Old Age

The anniversary of Bruce’s death was this past week, and as many of you know… I was struggling. First, I want to say, “Thank you!” Thank you to the many friends and family who reached out to me. Your support and love are what not only carried me through the week, but also made a huge difference in my ability to come out feeling okay on the other side.

And since that day was the focus of my week, my letter to Bruce seems to be the best thoughts I can share with you today…

Hey Babe!
Nine years… My that’s hard to believe. Sometimes it feels like it happened yesterday, and on other days it feels like forever. It’s strange, I know, but this year has been especially tough. I still miss you so much it hurts to even breathe at times. Yet… here I am… still here… So, there must be a reason.

It’s funny but I learned a few things today… First of all, even though I feel very much alone in all of this, I’m not. There are a lot of people around me who may not totally “get it”, but as the saying goes, “Compassion does not require understanding.” These are the people who are here for me… They care, and they love me.

I am not alone.

Second, grieving is a long process… and that’s okay. As long as I am moving forward and grounded in my reality, it is okay to take as much time as I need. I don’t need to rush through it or squash down my feelings to make someone else more comfortable. I, also, don’t need to throw it in anyone’s face, but it’s okay to work through this on my terms and in my own way.

Third, I’ve been saying for years that I wish I could just spend a day dealing with things my way – spending the whole day in bed crying if I feel like it. (Something I have never let myself do before, mainly because I am too scared I would never be able to stop and get back up.) Today, however, I stayed in bed most of the morning – crying, talking to you, and just getting a lot of crap off my chest – stuff I’ve been holding in for a long time. Then, I took my time doing only what I wanted, when I wanted… and it felt great!

Fourth, I love spending time at our beach and in our home, because I can feel you in both places. I went for a long walk on an (almost) empty beach. I went to the spot where we had your memorial service and where your ashes were scattered off-shore. I could almost feel you beside me. Yet, when I am here in our space, whether it’s porch sittin’ or in my reading chair, or in our room… I do feel you… I know you are here, and I know you can hear me when I talk to you. I can’t imagine being anywhere else.

And finally…

“Not everything that’s been taken from us was by the hand of God. But when I mentally place each and every loss in His hands, it can be redeemed… Loss is never the end of the story.” ~ Lysa Terkeurst, Forgiving What You Can’t Forget

I’m counting on that, Babe… I love you – Always and Forever!!

Grief is hard. It changes us in ways we could never have prepared for, and in ways no one else might understand. This journey is not an easy path for anyone… and this week for me, it was definitely a little bit harder. I don’t think any of us wants to on this path, but this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Life is now filled with challenges I never imagined. Each time I think I have it figured out; I find I don’t at all, despite the years since Bruce passed. This past week held a huge challenge for me. My goal now, though, is to let myself feel what I feel. At the same time, my other goal is to look at this life before me and find the joy and the hope life holds… And to hold onto that with everything I have.

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Peace, Love, and Grief… Heartbreak

“I want to dig a hole with my bare hands and stay there in a field and in the damp cold, and tell the world that I am so angry, so sad, so longing, I can hardly breathe.” ~ Sarah Bessey, Out of Sorts

It is just a few days until the 9th anniversary of Bruce’s death, and I am struggling. I have cried more in the last week, than I can remember for a long time. I may tell the world I am fine… But on the inside, I am crumbling… absolutely crumbling.

Even though that date is still a few days away, already that seems to be the one thing I can’t stop thinking about. It’s so strange, I know. One minute I feel okay – I may even be laughing – and the next, all I want to do is cry… That’s all I really want to do – just let go and cry… and cry… and cry… until there are no more tears left to cry.

All I can think about is that night… Watching him die… trying everything I knew to help him… but failing… I failed! I called 911, did CPR, watched as EMS took over… And yet, that damn line on that machine stayed flat. No matter what they tried, it never moved. He was gone… I knew he was gone, but I didn’t want to know.

I remember the ride to the hospital, and the doctor’s words, “He’s gone.” I remember all of it – the lights, the smells, all the different people sent to “comfort” me… But there was no comfort. It was more like walking through a bad dream. You know that kind I’m talking about? The kind of dream where everything is just awful, and no matter how hard you try, you just can’t wake up. Everyone around you is busy and talking, as if everything were absolutely normal. But you know… it’s all wrong…

And it still feels that way. It still feels wrong to be here without him.

I hate this… I really do. I have so much I want to tell him… so much I want to share with him… But I can’t… And when I remember that I hurt and I cry all over again. The total despair I have felt since that night… the despair I can’t seem to shake seems to haunt the corners of every thought during this time of year.

Everyone else is talking about the new year and resolutions and new beginnings… And all I can think is I just need to survive this again… My world will never know the kind of joy we shared again… And when I realize that MY. HEART. HURTS.

It seems like every year, (even though on all the other days, I feel I am doing better), these days are a struggle. They are a reminder of my greatest loss… and my greatest failure.

I know I need to pull myself together. I need to make myself think of other things. Yet, I think that in order to pick up the pieces of my heart and move forward, I may need to let myself spend a few days feeling what I feel without worrying about what someone else thinks.

Yes… it has been nine years. At the same time, though, it still hurts like it was yesterday. I don’t know how to stop that hurt… All I know is I still love him… And I believe I will always love him.

Grief is hard. It changes us in ways we could never have prepared for, and in ways no one else might understand. This journey is not an easy path for anyone… and this time of year, for me, it is definitely a little bit harder. I don’t think any of us wants to on this path, but this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Life is now filled with challenges I never imagined. Each time I think I have it figured out; I find I don’t at all, despite the years since Bruce passed. This next few week will hold a huge challenge for me. My goal is to let myself feel what I feel. At the same time, my other goal is to look at this life before me and find the joy and the hope life holds… And to hold onto that with everything I have.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into 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… Another New Year

It’s hard to believe that another year has come and gone… Another New Year’s Eve behind me… Another night spent wondering what life would be like if Bruce were still here…

Before Bruce, I rarely celebrated New Year’s Eve. It’s one of those things that my family never celebrated when I was growing up… It was just another day with the only tradition to mark its passing that of black-eyed peas and collards for dinner. (And I hate collards, so I always kind of dreaded it! LOL!) Then during my first marriage, I was just too tired for a late-night party after all the energy expended on Christmas with an ever-growing family. I do remember a couple of years when we went to a party, but those were usually based around my ex-husband’s business and its customers – not a party just for fun, but one with a business goal in mind. That was fine. It was what put bread on our table. My point is that New Year’s Eve just didn’t have any significance in my life… until Bruce.

We met on a cruise which ran from the day after Christmas until New Year’s Day. That New Year’s Eve is one I will never forget. After a week of getting to know one another, Bruce and I danced the night away on the deck of that sailing schooner. We even toasted and kissed at midnight. Then someone walked past us and made a comment that they thought there was something more than a ship-board romance between us. I’ll never forget… Bruce looked me in the eye and said he agreed. He wanted to take things further after the cruise was over.

That would be such a sweet New Year’s Eve story if I stopped there. However, to be honest, it kind of freaked me out in the moment, and I actually ran and hid in my cabin. (Because that is what a logical, mature woman does, right? Good grief! Sometimes I am ridiculous!) Obviously, we worked things out, because 10 months later we were married. So for me, New Year’s Eve will always be the start of “us”.

In the years that followed, we tended to make New Years a private affair. Bruce usually cooked lobster or crab legs for dinner, and we always stayed up and watched the ball drop in NY City. Then we usually ended the night with a slow romantic dance – usually to Rod Stewart’s Have I Told You Lately. It was quiet, but it suited us.

Now jump forward to December 31, 2012. Bruce had to work, so I spent the day alone. Our neighbors, though, had invited us to a small party at their house. So, Bruce made sure he was home in time for us to go. We were only going to stay for an hour or two, though, because he had to be at work the next day at 5 am.

It was such a fun night. We laughed. We danced. We celebrated with friends… And we stayed way longer than planned. Before we left to come back home, we kissed and toasted as the year rolled into 2013. Then once we were home, we danced one more time… I swear, if I close my eyes, I can almost feel his arms around me as we slowly turned in time to the music… one last time…

The next day, Bruce decided to call out from work – something he never did. As we lay in the bed that first morning of 2013, he pulled me close as he told me that that was the way he wanted to spend the entire year – with me in his arms. I felt like I was in heaven… It was the best New Years ever!

But life had other plans, and a few weeks later, Bruce was gone. No longer a part of my world or my life.

Ever since, New Years has held a certain bittersweet, melancholy for me. My kids have been great about including me in their plans each year, and I always have a good time. Yet, somewhere in my heart there is a hole that is never filled. This year, though, for the first time in a long time, I found myself alone for New Years. Turns out, I was exposed to Covid this past week, and while I am vaccinated and boosted, I know that doesn’t apply to everyone. I don’t think I could handle it if someone got sick, because I spread it around. So I made the choice to stay home until I know it is safe.

However, that means it has been a very quiet New Year’s Eve and Day. I am sure I have probably been in my own head too much. All I keep thinking is how much I still miss him… And how lonely life can be without him… And I can’t help but wonder what life would be like if he had been here beside me for one more dance and to toast another year together… another year of “us”.

I miss you, Babe!

Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone… and this time of year, it can be just a little bit harder. I don’t think any of us wants to on this path, but this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Life is now filled with challenges I never imagined – especially during the holidays. Each time I think I have it figured out; I find I don’t at all, despite the years since Bruce passed. These next few weeks will hold many challenges for me, but my goal is to look into this new year before me and find the joy and the hope life holds.

* 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.