April 2022 – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love, and Grief… Grief Shaming

Last week when I wrote about our adventure to celebrate Bruce’s birthday, I mentioned that we took a ghost tour, which wasn’t…That is where I want to start today. (I will go ahead and put it out there that some of you may be skeptics about some of this story. However, I think the point of the story is something all of us who have grieved have felt at some point in our journey.)

So, on the first night of our trip, my daughter had scheduled a ghost tour. We were just looking for a fun time… nothing more. Ghost tours have always been something we enjoyed and so did Bruce. It seemed like wherever we went, he would always find one for us… And it was always fun. For him, the best part was that my daughter and I seem to have a thing with spirits and people who have passed. I don’t want to go into details, and you can call it my deep southern heritage, but there has been more than one “encounter” that has left me shaken.

As I said, we were just looking for fun and some good stories… That was it. However, we didn’t get one single ghost story associated with any house on the tour. The lady simply took us all over town talking about the real estate, the job market, and the flora and fauna of the area. All we wanted was a story… she could have made it up. We didn’t care. This wasn’t science class… We weren’t there for facts. However, even though we gave her plenty of opportunities to make up stories to answer our questions, we never got a story.

The closest she came to a story was to say, “See this house… I get a feeling around this house.” (That is not a ghost story, in my book.) Then she would show us a bunch of pictures that just looked blurry when she tried to enlarge them and show us the “spirits” she had captured with her phone… Neither of us could make out anything in the pictures. They just looked like blurry windows and door frames.

At one point on the tour, two things happened almost simultaneously. First, she started telling a story about her late father. According to her, after he died, he would randomly ring her doorbell. (I am not arguing that part. I think there is a lot about the world we don’t understand. Plus, I have my own “Bruce” encounters. So, I am not one to judge.)

A few moments later, she was showing us another blurry picture, when I finally spoke up and said, “I’m sorry. I just don’t see what you see. I think I need these things to be really clear and ‘in my face’ for me to see it.” Then, I shared a picture from one of my own “Bruce encounters” where you can see the outline of his body standing next to me and leaving an impression in the curtains. (Despite how this may sound, I’m not crazy. Neither do I want to dwell on or defend this part of the story.)

She looked shocked and asked how I did that. I told her it wasn’t me… It was Bruce. Then she asked, “Well, have you told him it is okay for him to go? That he should go rest in peace? That you are fine without him? … That is what we did with my father and the doorbell ringing stopped.”

“No,” I answered. “I haven’t, and I won’t. I’m not okay without him. I need him to stay here… with me.”

Oh my goodness! If looks could kill. She wasn’t just appalled… She was quite upset with me. I guess in her mind, she had done the right thing… And I was doing the wrong thing. Evidently, I did not deal with my loss in the same way she had, and in her book, that was just plain wrong.

Now, I’m not here to discuss or argue whether my encounters are real or not… or whether it is really Bruce or could be explained some other way. Honestly, it doesn’t matter, because as crazy as it may sound, it brings me comfort to think that he is still here with me.

What I am talking about is her reaction… That, my friends, is grief shaming.

I have written about it before, although I have never given it a name. Whether you give it a name or not, though, doesn’t matter. The point is – this type of judgement is extremely hurtful.

So, what is grief shaming? Well, it is that judgment reaction from others when they are sure they know how you should grieve (and for how long). It is grief advice from someone who is sure they know the right way to grieve, and you are doing it wrong.

Let me just say… from someone who has been on the receiving end many times, this is mean. It is thoughtless… And it is cruel.

Here is the truth… Grief is hard, and it has no time limit. It is as individual as each of us. No two people will ever grieve the same, even if they are grieving the same person. Grief has to do with your relationship with that person, as well as, your past loss experiences, your support system, your faith and beliefs, and a myriad of other details. Let me also say that while there are circumstances where someone who is grieving may be struggling, that still doesn’t mean they are doing it wrong… It simply means they are struggling… And support is needed – not judgment.

Bottom line… There is no right or wrong way to grieve. There is no set amount of time when you should be “over it”. Instead, feel your way through it… Take it as slow or as fast as you are comfortable… and allow others who are grieving to do the same.

I have learned a lot on this journey – mostly about myself… what I think about life… and love… and my faith. I have learned that loss is hard, and grief is even harder. However, now a days, I can say that there are more good days than bad. Admittedly, I still constantly find myself wishing for a world where Bruce is here beside me. So, I will continue to allow myself the space I need to heal and process this life without him. Thankfully, at this point in my journey, I am learning that I am not alone – thanks to you!

In fact, none of us need to be alone, because 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 and helps us to process that avalanche of emotions that grief brings us. 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… Birthdays and Hope

What a busy (and fun) week this has been! This week held both Bruce’s birthday, (today) Easter, and more than anything, a renewed hope… the hope found in the joy of life… Something that nine years ago, I didn’t think I would ever feel again.

One of my goals this year has been to travel 1:1 with each of my kids. As I’ve gotten older, I have come to the realization that I have lived longer than I probably have left on this earth. As a consequence of that little bit of knowledge, I wanted to find a way to spend some 1:1 time with each of my adult kids… just talking, laughing, sharing adventures, and making memories. This week was the first of one of these trips.

One of my daughters and I decided to combine our trip with a celebration of Bruce’s birthday. Now… just to set the stage for this story, you should know that since his memorial/ashes ceremony nine years ago, I have chosen to spend every one of his birthdays alone… Sometimes I have traveled somewhere and other times I have simply stayed right here in this space that is our home… but always alone. That was how I wanted it… I wanted to feel free to celebrate however the mood struck me. Generally, it included at least a walk on the beach, some of his favorite foods, a toast of champagne, and… tears… lots and lots of tears…

So, when we made this decision, it didn’t come lightly. She didn’t want to spend her trip watching me cry, and I didn’t either. She wanted us to have fun, and so did I… We also both wanted to celebrate Bruce and what he added to our lives.

So, the two of us headed to one of his favorite seaside towns – an old pirate town, actually… and what a fun time we had!! We started and ended the trip at one of his favorite taverns. It has changed a lot since Bruce was last there, but it was still just an old dive bar with a great band, great drinks, and lots of laughter.

Throughout the week, we hit all of his favorite spaces, plus a few new spaces that he would have loved if they had existed at the time. We took a ghost tour, which wasn’t… It was a disaster that made for lots of laughter for the rest of the week. We spent time on the beach (of course), went shopping (that was for us, not him – lol!), did a cocktail tour (which was for him… and us. LOL!) and took a sunset cruise, which ended up cruising by an island that held great memories with Bruce, as well. We slept in every morning, and toasted his life every night… And we laughed… a lot!

What I didn’t do was cry… not once… not one single tear. That was a miracle, in my book! … and one for which I am so thankful (and a little bit proud)!

It isn’t that I’m over Bruce… I’m not. I still miss him with every fiber of my being. However, my new goals have included “finding the joy” and remembering to live my life – not just watch the rest of the world live theirs as I sit on the sidelines.

I think that is what made this birthday celebration trip so perfect… It was all about remembering the good times, the laughter, and the love… but doing so with even more good times, laughter, and love versus the tears due to a lack of hope. I, also, feel like I can honestly tell you this without even a hint of regret for how we celebrated, because in my heart, I know Bruce was smiling and laughing too… How do I know? I know because this was a man who left behind a legacy of unconditional love and a “license to chill”… and that is exactly what we did… And as long as there is a breath left in this body, I will continue to love and celebrate him and our time together in a way that is fitting for us.

Loss is hard, and grief is even harder. I have learned a lot on this journey – mostly about myself… what I think about life… and love… and my faith. I still hate it. However, now a days, I can say that there are more good days than bad. Admittedly, I still constantly find myself wishing for a world where Bruce is here beside me. So, I will continue to allow myself the space I need to heal and process this life without him. Thankfully, at this point in my journey, I am learning that I am not alone – thanks to you!

Peace, Love, and Grief… Regrets?

Do I have regrets?

Are there things I would change?

I’ve always said “no” to these questions. The life Bruce and I shared was a good one… In fact, I thought it was going to be a happily-ever-after one. We had each spent so long without love that when we found each other, we both knew just how precious the love between us really was.

Each moment we could spend together, we did. We went to bed together and woke up together. We ate together, watched TV together, read books together, spent out days off together… You get the picture – “together” was our word.

Of course, we had our disagreements… who doesn’t? But it never stopped our love… We didn’t use our love as a weapon to hurt the other or our arguments as a reason to deny our love to each other. (Personally, I think we had both had enough of that in our first marriages.)

So… no… I do not have any regrets on how we lived our lives together.

But… do I have regrets and are there things I would change? Well, you already know I have written about my guilt for not being able to save Bruce the night he died. I think that will always be a struggle for me, (but I am working on it.)

However, there is another part of the story that I haven’t shared with very many people… Mainly because it is my regret… Yet… at the same time, I don’t know if I would actually do anything different. This thing… I do believe it was the right thing to do, but sometimes, the right thing can be the hardest thing to do.

The night Bruce died was awful… That experience was a horrific trauma that I think I will relive over and over until the day I die, too.

The night he died, I called 911 and performed CPR until EMS arrived. (At the time, it felt like forever, but it was probably only about five minutes or so.) When they arrived, they took over the compressions, inserted a tube/bag to help him breathe, and hooked him up to a portable monitor to watch for a heartbeat… A heartbeat that never came. Instead, that line on the monitor remained flat.

They tried all kinds of rescue attempts… shots to his heart… the paddles… I couldn’t even begin to tell you everything (mainly because I was in too much shock at the time to remember). What I do remember, though, is that no matter what they tried, that line never moved… I stood there and watched in absolute shock and disbelief… How could this be real??

Eventually, they stopped everything except the breathing apparatus, loaded him on a gurney, and took him outside to the waiting ambulance… Then, they sat there… waiting… We were all waiting for a policeman to arrive and drive me to the hospital, because I was barely functional. I can’t say how long all of this took… For me, time had stopped… Life had stopped.

We all knew what no one was saying… Bruce was gone… Or was he? I don’t know… I do know miracles happen. Yet for me that night, there were two thoughts racing through my mind:
1. It had been a long time since I had prayed for a miracle. In fact, I had stopped praying for miracles in the chaos of my first marriage, since God didn’t seem to be listening.
And
2. What if I did pray? What if God did listen? Bruce had been like this for a long time… What kind of life would he have after something like this? “Not one he would like,” I thought. He would hate a life like that… A life of dependence on others for every part of his care.

So, what did I pray?

Well… I remember telling God I was scared… I told him I wanted Bruce alive and with me more than anything… Then, I told God that if Bruce couldn’t live a life where he was able to take care of himself – a life of independence… a life he could enjoy… Then God needed to take him home… And he did… Bruce was pronounced ‘dead’ almost as soon as we arrived at the hospital.

To this day, I believe that was the hardest prayer I have ever said… But I also believe that it was the right one. It wasn’t a prayer about me or what I wanted. It was about Bruce… and what he would want.

Some days (when I am feeling so absolutely alone), I wonder if things would have been different if I had said a different prayer that night? I don’t know… I’ll never know… And while there are days when I regret that prayer (for my own sake), I still believe it was the right prayer for him… And that is where I find my peace.

Loss is hard, and grief is even harder. I have learned a lot on this journey – mostly about myself… what I think about life… and love… and my faith. (But I still hate it.) Now a days, I can say that there are more good days than bad, but I constantly find myself wishing for a world where Bruce is still by my side. Allowing myself the space I need to heal and process everything hasn’t been easy. Yet, at this point in my journey, I am learning that I am not alone – thanks to you!

Peace, Love, and Grief… On Being Joyful

I hate death… There you go… I said it… And I am thinking 1- You aren’t surprised by that statement, and 2- Possibly, you fill the same. Now, before anyone feels the urge to talk to me about religion and death, please note that I didn’t say I fear death – I don’t. Also, my faith is strong, and I completely believe in life after death. I know without a doubt that I will see Bruce again… someday… However, who knows when that will be. So, none of that changes how I, (as the one left behind), feels about death… or more specifically, his death.

Let me see if I can explain in a way that makes sense…

This last week in my gratitude journal, one of the prompts was, “’Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!’ – Philippians 4:4.”

As I pondered this verse, I thought… Rejoice… Joy… Hope… All of these are feelings I used to take for granted. When Bruce was alive, these feelings overflowed in my world! Even on my worst days, (shoot, even when we were arguing), he still filled my world with joy and hope… Then, he died, and I thought all of these feelings were gone… It felt as if that part of me died with him.

It has taken a long time, but in (very) recent years, I have come to realize that I was wrong. Those feelings aren’t dead… or gone… However, they are most definitely different.

When Bruce was here, I really just felt what I felt in any given situation. I didn’t dwell on it, and I didn’t analyze it. Mainly because, at the end of the day, when all was said and done, I was so happy and content… so joyful that my life was with Bruce. Nothing else could steal that joy from me… Nothing!

After he died, though, that all changed for me. At first, there were feelings of guilt whenever I felt even a glimmer of pleasure, much less joy. How in the world could I dare to be happy – to smile or laugh – when Bruce could no longer do the same? He was no longer here to enjoy the sun or the sky… or the people we love… How could I dare to enjoy life on these terms? It felt like a betrayal of him… of us…

Yes, I know… I have read so many articles and books that say this is normal. Yet, I have to tell you that I didn’t feel normal. I didn’t feel like me, and I didn’t know how to feel like me… the old me… the happy me… That person was so lost to me.

However, life isn’t meant to be stagnate, and although I fought it, life really does move onward…

I have learned – no… I am still learning that these emotions, (joy, happiness, and hope) are the emotions I now have to seek out. Sometimes, I would even say, I have to chase them down. Even then, there is a process where I have to remind myself that not only am I allowed to feel these, it is good for me to feel these. Plus, I know without a doubt that Bruce would want me to feel all of these, (as often as possible). I know he wants me to be happy… to feel joy… and to rejoice in this life. After all, these emotions are what he brought into my life. That couldn’t have been for nothing, right?

So… for his sake and mine, I will continue this journey, finding the joy along the way, and rejoice every time I do until we are together again.

So, while this grief thing really is harder than anything I have experienced in all my years on this earth, it has also taught me a lot… However, I still hate it. There are definitely more good days than bad, but I still constantly find myself wishing for a world where Bruce is still by my side. Allowing myself the space to process and adjust to all of that isn’t easy. Life on this path is sometimes filled with challenges I never imagined. At this point in my journey, I am learning that while it can be hard to remember in the moments of grief, I am not alone. (That is why I reach out here each week.)

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 and helps us to process that avalanche of emotions that grief brings us. 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.