February 2023 – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love, and Grief… What’s Faith Got to Do with It?

I have written about it before, so most of you are aware that just a few weeks before Bruce died, I came to the realization that my faith wasn’t really mine… or at the very least, had ceased to grow in a way that was helpful. I had reached a point where the dogma had become more hurtful than hopeful.

Then, when Bruce died, it all fell apart…

The little bit of faith I thought I had left quickly drained away. The loss… the feelings of abandonment… the loneliness… the complete devastation… it was too much… How could a God who knew all… who knew me… who knew how much Bruce and I loved each other… who knew how much healing Bruce had brought to me and my kids… How could a God that knew all of this, let Bruce die… How??

I couldn’t wrap my brain around it – at least not for years.

I remember all the expressions of sympathy from my friends and family. Their love and caring meant the world to me… Each and every note truly helped to hold me up. The only things I truly struggled with were the things people said that fell flat, such as “He’s in a better place” or “God needed another angel”. NO! Those words were not comforting… Those words did not offer empathy or compassion. Instead, those words simply fueled my anger and pointed it to a God who came across as selfish and uncaring if those phrases were accurate. That was not a God who I wanted anything to do with.

At the same time, when there were verses attached to the note on a card, written in a song, or sent in a GIF, I paid attention… I was desperate for something – anything – to ease the pain I felt.

I can remember some that I found helpful were:

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” ~ Psalm 147:3

“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ says the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.’” ~ Jeremiah 29:1

I also remember when people tried to tell me that grieving showed a lack of faith, or that I needed to “get over it and move forward”, or any number of things that called for me to deny my grief and behave in a way that made others more comfortable. Then, I remembered and found these:

“Jesus wept.” ~ John 11:35 (It is noted several times that Jesus wept, but this particular time was in response to the death of a dear friend.)

“Then Jesus said to them, ‘My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death.’” ~Matthew 26:38

How about that? … Jesus wept… Jesus grieved… Not only was it okay for me to feel this way, this God I had been raised to trust knew how I felt… This God was by my side and grieving with me.

“I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you… You are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you.” ~ Isaiah 43: 1-2, 4

Before long, my faith journey started. A real journey… a journey to let go of everything I had been taught and the man-made dogma that went with it. (Honestly, this is still my journey, and I hope it never ends, because now I love what I am learning.)

Anyway, it wasn’t too long before Psalm 46:10 (“Be still and know that I am God.”) became my mantra and my morning meditation. It became a way to sit still and allow myself to find comfort in the Divine – “One God, One life, one mind, one heart… Together we are one.” This has become my morning tradition, and while it isn’t for everyone, I find great comfort in it.

The past few months, as I have been working on healing other areas of my life, I have found myself missing Bruce and feeling down on myself more than usual… more than I have in years. In fact, the more I deal with the mistakes I have made through the years, the more I have disliked and been angry with myself… And the more I have hated myself, the more I have missed Bruce… The man who saw so much more in me than I ever did… The man who believed in me and helped me keep a level head about my past, as well as, where I was heading.

Then, last week, the universe floated this verse into my world:

“I thank my God every time I remember you.” ~ Philippians 1:3

Oh my gosh! How simple and how true! I may be having a good day or a bad day… I may be happy or grieving or angry… Yet, no matter what, I really do thank God every single day for this man… This man who showed me true, unconditional love with every breath.
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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. Learning to function on this new path is hard. I don’t think any of us chose to be here, but this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined. Each time I think I have it all figured out; I find I don’t at all, despite the years since Bruce passed. Life is filled with challenges for all of us. For me, my goal is to look at this year before me and (intentionally) hold onto the joy and the hope life holds.

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.

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Peace, Love, and Grief… The Other Side of Grief

Losing someone you love is hard. Grieving is hard. Each week for years, I have shared my journey as I grieve for the man I love. This week, though, is different. This week, I have watched my mother grieve… and that has been so very hard.

My mother is in her 80’s, and I have watched her grow more and more physically fragile over the last decade. This last week, though, I watched as her grief seemed to put a spotlight on just how frail she truly is.

You see, my mother is the second child of four – the oldest girl who was given a lot of family responsibility way too young. The siblings (in order) were boy, girl (my mom), girl, and boy. Through the years, (I believe), she has always felt like the second mother in the family – no matter their age. I can’t say how the rest felt about her assumed role, but despite differences in politics, religion, or even lifestyle choices, I have watched my mother love her siblings fiercely… no matter what.

No too long ago, her younger sister passed away. I watched as Momma worked to reconcile her faith with her grief. (Something I understand all too well) I can’t even remember how many times I tried to reassure her that grieving is okay… It’s part of the process – a process that has involved a lot more emotions than most of us expect. I’m not even sure she ever let herself completely mourn that loss, (but as we all know, that grief will always come out somewhere).

This past week, though, it was her older brother who passed away. He was a good man. He had lived a good, full life, and had recently experienced the loss of his own wife. I think for most of us, his death was quick and unexpected.

As the family gathered this week, my sister and I were feeling a bit protective of our mom. Since her younger brother is physically disabled, Momma was the only able-bodied sibling left of the four… and I think that hit her hard. At the viewing, the day before, she seemed to be doing okay (all things considered), but the next day at the funeral, the impact of her grief was much more evident.

Because our family does this odd thing at funerals where the widows are relegated to the back row of the family section, it was my sister who sat with our Mom. (Our father was standing to the side due to limited seating.) Seated behind them, it was heartbreaking to watch my mother’s heart actually breaking. At the same time, I was so glad my sister was there beside her to put an arm around her and comfort her.

I think this is a side of grief I haven’t thought about too much… The part where you can only sit with the person who is grieving. You can’t fix it, and there are no words that truly bring any real comfort… What a helpless feeling! However, warm bodies… hugs… someone willing to just sit in the sadness with you – these I know from experience are what we can offer.

So this time… this week… I have been on the other side of grief… The side that may sometimes be just as hard knowing that all we can do for the person we love is to be there… And to love them through the hurt.
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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. Learning to function on this new path is hard. I don’t think any of us chose to be here, but this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined. Each time I think I have it all figured out; I find I don’t at all, despite the years since Bruce passed. Life is filled with challenges for all of us. For me, my goal is to look at this year before me and (intentionally) hold onto the joy and the hope life holds.

Peace, Love, and Grief… Love and Loneliness

Love and Loneliness… Those are two words we don’t often see together, right? Yet sometimes, the line between these two is a fine line…

I have always been a hugger. I love hugs. I love holding hands. I love snuggles. Physical touch speaks volumes to my soul… And kind, loving, physical touch brings me peace and makes me smile, because this is one of my “love languages”. *

Luckily, since Bruce and I had the same “love languages”, (touch and time), we fit… love and expressing love was easy between the two of us. We could sit for hours without speaking – just touching – and never say a word… never say “I love you”. Yet, we both felt totally and completely loved with each other.

Sometimes this looked like sitting on the beach with our pinkies linked, or riding in the car with his hand resting on my knee, or sitting on the couch holding hands, or snuggled up in bed each night. In fact, I don’t think either of us could walk past the other without a simple caress or touch… And words were not needed… There was simply so much love expressed in each simple touch.

So, when Bruce died, those loving caresses were gone… Our time spent silently saying “I love you” was over… I was (and still am) devastated.

It didn’t take long for loneliness to slip into my psyche. I wasn’t alone. Besides, being alone isn’t always loneliness… I just couldn’t figure out where I fit in, and the lack of those loving touches drained my “love bank” quite quickly, which left me feeling unloved, as well. So there I was – not belonging and unloved… that is where my grief settled in.

More than likely, there are several of you thinking that there was a simple fix for this – just ask for what you need… I know… I did.

Thankfully, the people around me who knew me best were very generous with their hugs. (Honestly, without those people, I don’t know where I would be today.) Even my co-workers were willing to give me a big, old hug most mornings… Then suddenly, it was 2020 and Covid hit. Seemingly overnight, we were all isolated. My hugs were greatly reduced… and I struggled.

Now, those days seem to be behind us… We are, once again, able to get out and be a community again. However, we spent so long in isolation, it seems that there are some changes from those days that appear to be a permanent part of our existence.

For example, we now tend to interact less and keep a certain distance – both physically and emotionally. I get it… Covid is still around and many of us don’t want to be sick. Also, I believe that after so many years of distancing, shaking hands or hugging now feels awkward… And not just with strangers or acquaintances, but with anyone we don’t live with or see on a day-to-day basis.

Shoot, even I find myself hanging back. As much as I might crave a hug or some kind of human touch, I have become acclimated to a world where this is no longer as socially acceptable as before.

So, while I (rationally) know I am loved, feeling it is another story… And when you don’t feel loved, you don’t feel like you belong. Yes, I know these are just emotions – not reality, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

Thankfully, I have fabulous people in my life… People who have recognized this and reach out consistently. In turn, I am also pushing myself past my comfort zone, and getting involved in my community. These steps have become important for me… Steps I am taking to broaden that line… that line that appeared when Bruce died… that thin line between love and loneliness…

* If you have never read The 5 Love Languages by Gary Chapman, I would highly recommend it.
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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. Learning to function on this new path is hard. I don’t think any of us chose to be here, but this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined. Each time I think I have it all figured out; I find I don’t at all, despite the years since Bruce passed. Life is filled with challenges for all of us. For me, my goal is to look at this year before me and (intentionally) hold onto the joy and the hope life holds.
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… Shattered

I know it is only February, but I have to be honest… This is already a hard year for me. Up to now, it has been a year of pushing and stretching and growing. That might sound a bit dramatic, but I just mean that I am working on me… And I don’t always like what I see. I know this is the hard part of therapy – the part where you have to really dig deep, take a close look, and try to genuinely figure out why you respond to life the way you do… or, for me, the way I do.

For me evidently, trauma has played a big part in my “why”. Like most of us, I have had my fair share, such as a tumultuous first marriage and the loss of a child. I think Bruce’s death, though, has been the hardest one for me. Maybe that is because, I still wrestle with guilt that I wasn’t able to save him that night, or maybe it is the loss of the other half of my soul – that someone who loved me in a way that I had never been loved before – total… complete… unconditional. I am sure it is all that and a lot more.

The bottom line is when he died my whole world was shattered… I was shattered… And if I let myself dwell on it too much, I can still feel just as shattered now as I was on day one. There have been people through the years who have tried to convince me that I shouldn’t feel that way… And it is usually followed by something like, “Be happy – he’s in a better place” or “Learn to be thankful in all things.” In other words, something meant to be positive and uplifting, but misses that mark by a mile. Instead, these are statements that only create more guilt and (in my case) a tendency to withdraw.

Like everyone else, I can’t help how I feel… Instead, it’s what I do with those feelings that I am working on…

This week, though, I heard something for the first time, that has really stuck with me… I was watching Lysa Terkeurst discuss the effects of trauma and loss. At one point, she stated that when her 20+ year marriage ended, she was shattered… She said she felt like a broken mess, and of course, so many people made comments that were meant to be encouraging, but instead instilled guilt because she couldn’t feel the way they wanted her to feel.

Oh my gosh! I know she was talking about different circumstances, but the feelings were the same! It caught my attention because:
1. I could easily relate to the feelings she was experiencing… That sense of failure for not grieving or managing traumatic events and emotions “correctly”.
2. I wanted to see if she had an answer on how to fix all of that.

Then, she made a simple statement… A statement that has brought me so much peace this week… She said that she felt she had been “shattered to dust”. (Yep… I get that… That is exactly how I feel so much of the time.) “But,” she continued, “God loved and created humans from dust, and there is encouragement to be found in that.”

I have to say, that little statement has meant so much to me… Let’s be honest. I don’t like feeling shattered and don’t want to feel like this forever. At the same time, I don’t need to feel guilty or like I have to “fix me” to satisfy anyone else. Instead, I can find solace in knowing that even when I am shattered, God is here beside me – not just loving me, but ready to create a new me from what feels like the shattered dust of my soul.
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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. Learning to function on this new path is hard. I don’t think any of us chose to be here, but this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined. Each time I think I have it all figured out; I find I don’t at all, despite the years since Bruce passed. Life is filled with challenges for all of us. For me, my goal is to look at this year before me and (intentionally) hold onto the joy and the hope life holds.