September 2022 – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love, and Grief… Going Home

Due to several factors (mostly Covid), it’s been several years since I have been back to Bruce’s hometown in Michigan, and three years since I have been able to see and hug his parents. It has felt like forever! But last weekend, I boarded a plane and did just that.

I love that town. (Well, I love it when it isn’t freezing cold and snowing – lol!) It was where we were married and where we had our first home together. There are so many precious memories there… Even now, I am tearing up just thinking about it all. I went this last week because we were celebrating his Dad’s 90th birthday.

Years ago, Bruce was able to go celebrate his 80th birthday, but I had to miss it due to work. None of us had any idea Bruce would be gone a few short months later. So this year, I was determined to be there for his 90th. For weeks, I have been so excited that things are more “normal”, and I was finally going to be able to go!

As soon as I landed, though, the memories (and the tears) started…

As I was leaving the terminal, my mind at once turned to that first trip to Michigan so many years ago. I was terrified leaving the terminal that day, only to find Bruce’s smiling face waiting for me at the bottom of the walkway… The start of a wonderful adventure filled with love.

Of course, this time there was the hubbub of getting my own luggage and, finally, the rental car. The whole time, all I could think about were all the trips back here after we left and moved to Florida… The two of us waiting in line for a rental car versus just me… alone. Deep breaths and attempts to refocus were the only things to save me from breaking down in tears as I waited my turn.

On my drive to his sister’s house, (where I stayed), everything was extremely familiar, despite the many years since I had been there – streets and exits, restaurants and shops… all the places we used to go… and the avalanche of memories that wouldn’t stop. I think I cried for the first ten miles or so. At that point, though, I knew I had to make myself stop. I was not about to spend an entire week crying everywhere I went. I needed to focus on the “happy” of what had been – not the sadness of what is gone.

The week was wonderful! I immediately fell right into the rhythm of his family from the moment I stepped across the threshold. The first night there was a wonderful celebration of Dad’s 90th with all of his family and friends. Yet, for me, the best part came at the end when we were all sitting around the firepit and Dad entertained us with stories and songs… That man can tell the best stories!! And his love for his family shines through in all of it.

The only thing missing that night was Bruce… We all knew it… Still… in my heart, I believe he was there too – smiling and laughing right along with the rest of us!

On another day, we went out to the lake and had lunch near the marina where Bruce and I used to keep our sailboat. Oh my gosh!! All the memories!! The bait shop where we always stopped for beer… the summer nights sleeping in the small cabin on the boat… the sadness of putting the boat in storage for the winter and the excitement of pulling it out in the summer… and the beachside bar where we often stopped for lunch.

I remembered the place immediately… One of the first times out on the boat, Bruce had anchored offshore with the intention of us swimming/walking to shore for lunch. But… I am a southern girl through and through, and even in the middle of summer, Michigan waters are too cold for this girl. So, that dear man let me ride to shore on his shoulders with only my toes touching the water. I still laugh every time I think about how I convinced him to let me ride and stay warm vs swimming and getting cold.

The following day, I was able to have lunch with Bruce’s daughter. I don’t get to see her often, since she has little ones of her own, but our time together was absolutely precious to me. So many stories shared… so many questions answered… and still so much more I want to share with her. I really wish Bruce could have been there… I am sure she wished the same. Yet, the two of us will always have a connection because of him, and I will treasure that for as along as life allows.

The best part of the whole week? Honestly, it was simply the continuous time spent with family… the people who knew and loved Bruce too… the people who miss him like I do… the people who don’t think I should be “over it” and who understand when I shed a tear here and there… the people who accept me as family, too.

I remember when Bruce died, I was terrified I would lose these wonderful people in my life. Everything I read at the time said to expect his family to gradually pull away until one day I would realize they were no longer there. However, that has never happened. Instead, here we are, almost 10 years later, and we are closer than ever. I am so blessed, and I love them to the moon and back… To my mind, they are another precious gift from the man who was my hero… the man who loved me… the man who gave me so many precious memories to lean on until I see him again.
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This journey isn’t easy… not that you need me to tell you that. Loss can be traumatic, and the grief and life we are left to figure out is hard. Thankfully, though, there are moments and actions we can take to refresh our souls… places we can go to and find comfort… moments where we learn a little bit more about faith, life, and love.

Thankfully, as the years pass, I can honestly say that there are more of these good moments than bad. Each day, I continue to learn more and more about those things that seem to help me heal and move forward – like sharing precious memories with you. So, I will continue to allow myself the space I need to heal and process this life without my love… without Bruce. Thankfully, at this point in my journey, I am learning that I am not alone – thanks to each of 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.

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… Changes in Grief and Mourning

Grief and mourning… Years ago, I would have told you these two words were synonymous, but I would have been wrong. After spending time on my own grief journey, I would now say that grief is the emotion and mourning is how that grief is expressed.

I still grieve for Bruce, but I can’t say I still actively mourn his death. Sure, there are still tears at times, (when I am alone), and this blog is definitely a way of expressing my grief. However, I’m not actively mourning 24/7. Most people I meet have no idea I am a widow or who Bruce is. (That usually comes up later, IF we become friends.)

In the beginning, I did all the things… For example, I wore black for the first 6 months. (That is until I realized the color was no longer an expression of my feelings but instead was affecting my feelings.) I cried… a lot. (In fact, I wore sunglasses indoors as much as out because I didn’t want people to see my constant tears.) I even skipped the holidays that first year, because I couldn’t bear the thought of celebrating anything without Bruce here to celebrate too.

While I thought my life had ended when Bruce’s did, what I soon learned was that loss was not the end of the story. Instead, it was simply the start of another one. For me, loss became that thing that divided my life in half – everything before the loss vs everything that came after. There was the “before” me that was too naïve to realize how much this loss would take from me vs the “after” me that now lives completely aware of how painful tragedy can be and how precious every moment truly is with those we love.

I guess what I am saying is that the loss of Bruce changed me… the grief… the mourning… all of that quickly became a part of who I am. In the beginning, those changes brought me down… My mourning was deep, and it was physical. There was no way to spend any amount of time with me and not know I was grieving.

I was so angry and emotional all the time. There seemed to be triggers all around me that could set me off on a crying jaunt at any moment… Everything seemed to make me cry, and the pain felt never-ending.

“It <was> so dang unfair. Even worse, it <was> so dang unchangeable… 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 stayed in that mode for a long time. It seemed to seep into every part of my world, and the craziest part is that I had no idea how to change that or if I even wanted to change that. It almost felt like a betrayal to Bruce to feel any other way.

But thankfully, life didn’t give up on me, (and neither did the people who love me).

Years have passed, and I still grieve the loss of my husband. However, I can also say that I am slowly working to express that grief… to mourn, if you will, in a more productive way. I am trying to take the lessons learned by his loss, and use them to make my life going forward, a better one.

For example, one of the greatest lessons I learned when I lost Bruce is just exactly how precious life is. Our time with our loved ones is measured. It will not last forever. At first, this reality found me pulling back. After all, if I wasn’t too close to anyone, it wouldn’t hurt nearly so bad when they were gone. But that was not sustainable – not for me, anyway. I love who I love… I want to love who I love. In fact, I want to soak in as much love as I possibly can… while I can.

That reality led me to start one-on-one trips with each of my kids this year. Yes, they are adults. Yes, they have lives and families of their own. Yet… they will always be my kids, and I know our time together will not always be. This newest tradition allows me to get to know them better, especially now that they are adults. It allows us to reconnect without the responsibilities of family and home. We have been able to simply have fun and laugh, as well as, have late night heart-to-heart conversations – tears and all. (This has been life changing for me, and I wish I had started doing this sooner!)

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I know I am still grieving. My hope, though, is that my mourning… my expression of that grief is becoming something more positive… I want to think that now it is something that just might put a little bit more love back into this world, despite my initial grief making me feel like all of the love was gone. I hope that now it is something that involves more smiles than tears… Something that builds up and brings hope… Something that Bruce would even be proud of, too….
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This journey isn’t easy… not that you need me to tell you that. Loss can be traumatic, and the grief and life we are left to figure out is hard. Thankfully, though, there are moments and actions we can take to refresh our souls – Moments where I learn a little bit more about faith, life, and love.

Thankfully, as the years pass, I can honestly say that there are more of these good moments than bad. Each day, I continue to learn more and more about those things that seem to help me heal and move forward – like sharing precious memories. So, I will continue to allow myself the space I need to heal and process this life without my love… without Bruce. Thankfully, at this point in my journey, I am learning that I am not alone – thanks to 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

Peace, Love, and Grief… On Sleep

I loved Bruce. I still love Bruce… which means there are a lot of things I miss about Bruce. Our relationship was wonderful – a true partnership. There were things he took care of and things I took care of. There were things he did, and things I did. It was never a discussion. We never sat down and decided on who would do what; things just seemed to fall into place organically. In other words, we had developed a rhythm to our lives that worked for us… That made us comfortable. When he died, it took a while for it to sink in that all those things he used to do, were now up to me.

Most of those things were simple enough to take on like taking out the trash or picking up the mail each day. Somehow those were some of the things he always did. I never really gave it a second thought. In fact, when he died, the mail probably sat there for over a week before it dawned on me to go get it. Other things were more involved (and completely stressed me out), like fixing a broken dishwasher or doing the taxes. (Those are not my gifts. So, now, I hire someone to do those things.)

But… there are other things that can’t be picked up or replaced so easily, such as his presence. I miss that. I miss sitting and doing nothing together. I miss riding in the car and having him reach over to hold my hand… And I really miss snuggling with him in the bed at night.

I have always been a hugger, but I don’t know when I became such a snuggler in the bed. I wasn’t a snuggler as a child; I slept in my own room and my own bed – alone. I wasn’t a snuggler in my first marriage. In fact, my first husband was gone for more than half of our marriage due to military service, (which given the circumstances was okay with me).

But with Bruce, it was different… From the very beginning, we had a bedtime routine that included me sleeping in his arms with my head on his chest. In fact, I didn’t use a pillow the whole time we were married. I didn’t need one… I had Bruce.

(You probably know now where this is headed.) Yep… Since he died, sleep is a real struggle for me…

That first week, I was in shock, so I can’t say if I actually slept. However, I do remember my dear, sweet sister, laying in the bed with me and holding my hand while I tried. Then, for the first few years, I found myself waking up almost every night at the same hour as the night he died… Like clockwork, no matter what time I went to bed, I would find myself wide awake at 1:15 am… remembering… reliving… crying.

Through the years, I have tried all kinds of things to help me sleep – meditation, white noise, meds, new mattresses, an assortment of pillows. You name, I have probably tried it. Shoot, I even tried laying a body pillow in the bed next to me, just to see if my “half asleep self” could be fooled into thinking it was Bruce laying there and (hopefully) go back to sleep.

Nothing has really worked, though. Even now, all these years later, I still struggle with sleeping alone. I miss falling asleep in his arms. I miss having his arms pull me in tighter when a nightmare wakes me up. I miss me laying under several blankets, while he slept with a fan blowing directly on him, because our body temperatures were so mismatched. I miss laying in the dark and talking about our future together. I miss waking up and smiling as I watched him sleep or finding him smiling as he watched me sleep.

I miss all of that.

I don’t know that I will ever get used to going to bed alone, sleeping alone, or waking up alone. I think this may just be one of those things that never really becomes “normal” for me on this journey. The closest I seem to be able to get is sleeping in his old t-shirts… It is kind of like having him hold me through the night (but not quite). At the same time, though, I do believe that one day we will be together again… and at that time, I will never, ever sleep alone again.
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This journey isn’t easy… not that you need me to tell you that. Loss can be traumatic, and the grief and life we are left to figure out is hard. Thankfully, though, there are moments and actions we can take to refresh our souls – Moments where I learn a little bit more about faith, life, and love.

Thankfully, as the years pass, I can honestly say that there are more of these good moments than bad. Each day, I continue to learn more and more about those things that seem to help me heal and move forward – like sharing precious memories. So, I will continue to allow myself the space I need to heal and process this life without my love… without Bruce. Thankfully, at this point in my journey, I am learning that I am not alone – thanks to you!

Peace, Love, and Grief… Working on Grief

Sometimes loss happens slowly over time… usually due to some type of health decline. I have watched friends and family go through this type of loss, and I can’t imagine how hard that is. I have watched people I love grieve this type of loss twice – once before the loss (either in anticipation of what lies ahead or because they are slowly losing the person they knew or both). Then, sadly, the grief continues after the loss. The whole thing seems incredibly hard (and totally unfair).

For others, like myself, loss happens quickly. Bruce’s death was completely unexpected… We went to bed laughing and snuggling, but he never woke up… And my world was shattered. In fact, the shock was so great, it took me over a year just to truly believe that this wasn’t simply some awful nightmare. For the longest time, I continued to listen for his car turning into driveway or to look forward to his smile at the end of a rough day.

One thing I have learned, though, is that no matter how sudden or slow the loss occurs, the grief that follows cannot be ignored. Even if you try, at some point, that grief will bubble to the surface and demand to be dealt with. I am a “list” person, so in the beginning, I went hunting for a list of things to do to work through my grief. I just wanted to know what to do so that once the list was completed, I would feel better, the grief would gone, and I could get on with my life. (Silly, I know, but that was how I thought it would work.)

I will say I found a whole book of suggested actions to take that really were helpful in working through my grief. However, it still wasn’t like the checklist I had hoped for. Instead, I found that grief is one of those things that must be worked on and worked out daily… for as long as it takes – which is different for every person and every loss… And the other kicker – All of this work really must be done in your “ordinary” life. The problem is… it can take weeks or months for your life to resemble any definition of “ordinary”, (which may require more than a little bit of patience with yourself).

I remember when Bruce died, everyone came – his family… my family… friends… co-workers. Granted, after a few weeks, most of these people had to go back home. At the same time, there continued to be a never-ending stream of flowers, cards, phone calls, messages, and visitors that went on for weeks and months… This was not even close to an “ordinary” life. Also… while I was grieving during this time, I couldn’t really work on it. I was in too much shock and there was too much going on for me to figure out how this new feeling of complete loss was going to fit into my life.

For the next several months, I focused my energy on planning his memorial service. (This I had postponed until his ashes were returned to me and our families were able to come back.) Again – this was not even close to an “ordinary” life.

After that there was also the “business” side of loss – insurance, probate, redoing names on various accounts, and all of the other (unending) paperwork that had to be completed. Once again… nothing ordinary in any of these things.

However… there does finally reach a point where “your people” have gone back to their lives (believing you are doing “okay”), there are no more ceremonies, and all of the business is completed… This is when things get quiet… It gets real quiet… And while grief is hard from the beginning, this is when the grief gets harder. Why? Because with this overwhelming silence comes the feeling that this grief is going to literally devour you… This is where I knew I would have to find a way to face it (and work on it), if for no other reason than simple survival.

Also, about this time, I started hearing the term “new normal”. Oh my! How I hated that term. This life was not normal, nor did I want it to be. For me, that phrase seemed to imply something positive or exciting – like a new adventure… This new life was far from that.

It was also at this point that I constantly found myself wandering through our home looking for… what? Bruce? I don’t know. Other times, I could be found sitting in the middle of the living room sobbing and yelling at God… Or maybe just sitting on the couch in total silence – staring at the wall for hours.

Then, I found that list I wrote about earlier… True, it wasn’t the checklist I thought it would be. However, it was a great way to start taking the some of that energy from my grief and refocusing it in more positive, healthy ways. When that list was completed, and my grief was still there… still strong… still crushing, I knew that this journey was going to require more of me… It was going to be a day-by-day challenge with some days being more successful than others.

And that is where I am… Still working on this grief thing one day at a time.

While my grief no longer controls every waking moment, I still wake up each morning and am reminded that I am alone. At that point, I must make a choice as to what kind of day it is going to be… Will it be a day of grieving all day or will it be a day where I can say, “I love you, Babe… I still miss you,” blow him a kiss, and then smile as I move through my day.

I must say that some days that choice is easier than other days… Yet, to my way of thinking, that’s okay too. I am moving forward and that is my goal.
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This journey isn’t easy… not that you need me to tell you that. Loss can be traumatic, and the grief we are left to figure out is hard. Thankfully, though, there are moments and actions we can take to refresh our souls – Moments where I learn a little bit more about faith, life, and love.

Thankfully, as the years pass, I can honestly say that there are more of these good moments than bad. Each day, I continue to learn more and more about those things that seem to help me heal and move forward – like sharing precious memories. So, I will continue to allow myself the space I need to heal and process this life without my love… without Bruce. Thankfully, at this point in my journey, I am learning that I am not alone – thanks to you!