January 2026 – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love, and Grief – Moving Forward

Last week I wrote about focus. I wrote about how being more aware (mindful) of what I am focused on throughout the day has made a huge difference for me on this path I am on. Then, this week, a couple of questions popped up in something I was reading…

• What does moving forward mean to you in the context of your grief?
• What small steps can you take right now?

This felt like an extension of what I was talking about last week, but it also prompted me to look a little bit closer look at how I work on my focus throughout the day and week. I don’t know about you, but when someone suggests that I try something I have never tried before (or never been successful at if I did try), I need some ideas on the how-to part of the advice… And as a list person, step-by-step directions for implementation are a must.

That being said, I have a few things that I do, but for today, I thought I would share two of those ideas – not so many to be overwhelming but at least there are options… And hopefully, one of these will be beneficial for someone else, as well.

Before I go into any detail, let me be clear that these are small actions… very small actions, and they may feel more like baby steps rather than anything monumental. At the same time, keep in mind that even baby steps are forward motion, and the goal is to get unstuck and continue healing and moving forward.

The pace at which this happens is as individual as each of us and each loss we experience. So… be patient with yourself and the process. There is no rushing through it; it is a moment by moment, step by step experience.

So… here are two ways I like to start my day (or week) depending on where I am emotionally. Each of these allow me to take control and anchor myself vs letting my emotions take complete control.

Idea 1
1. Stand in your main living space with one hand on your chest (to feel your heartbeat) and one hand on your belly (to feel your breath).

2. Take three deep breaths. This allows you to slow your heartbeat and breath rate (which helps to lower your cortisol – the anxiety, fight-or-flight hormone), while also allowing you to connect to those natural rhythms within.

3. Name three things that are stable in your life right now – this moment. Don’t think about next week or next year – only this exact moment. Also, they don’t need to be perfect – only stable. (This could include relationships as well as material items… In other words, anything that is stable right now.)

4. Say: “This is enough to carry me through today/this week.”

* Repeat this throughout the day/week as needed. By focusing on the stable things in your life, you will reinforce resilience rather than denying any difficulty.

Idea 2
1. Take three deep breaths. (Same reasons as above)

2. Ask yourself (and answer):
a. How do I want to feel today?
b. What’s one thing that would make me proud tonight?
c. What can I release from my to-do list?

* This is about being mindful with our self-care while allowing us to enter the day with clarity and softness.

As I said, these are small actions with the potential for great change. They provide a way of moving forward (even if the steps are small). They work in a way that is positive and builds up our resilience. Finally, neither of these are about denying our pain… They are simply about shifting our focus to help create a more hope-filled experience.
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Grief is a daily challenge that changes us in ways we could never foresee, making this journey a difficult path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone.
I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.

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… 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 – Grief Survival

As I have said several times before, I am a “list person”. I love a to-do list. I love the feeling of accomplishment as I complete an item and check it off the list. Embarrassing as it is, if I didn’t put an item on the list, but still completed it, I will add it just so I can check it off. (I’m not sure what that says about me, but I’m sure it’s something “not quite right.” LOL!)

So… when Bruce died, you know what I did, right? I went on an internet search for a list of things to do to heal the pain… to get past the grief… to feel whole again. Let me say right now, there is no such list. (And if you find one, I will bet it is completely misleading.)

So why is my title “Grief Survival”? I will say that it is not because I have discovered a list – I have not. However, it is because there are small things we can recognize in our thinking, and once we start changing those, we can start to see a path forward.

Let’s start by looking at the pain of grief. Whether your loss happened slowly over time and you knew it was coming at some point or whether your loss was sudden and unexpected, the pain is real. The pain is intense. The pain is often overwhelming and paralyzing.

However, it isn’t pain that creates our suffering. (I know how crazy that sounds… just stick with me for a little bit more.) So, as I was saying…

Pain doesn’t create our suffering. It is the story we tell ourselves about that pain which creates our suffering. For example, when Bruce died, all I could see in my future were years upon years of days and days without Bruce. It never seemed to lift for even a moment. I found myself completely unable to see past the pain… All I could see were all those years stretched out before me alone… abandoned… without Bruce.

This made my pain feel never-ending, and I started telling myself (and believing) that my grief was permanent. It was (and would always be) a part of my life… a permanent part of me and who I am as a person. Nothing could change it. My future was set.

Some people refer to this as “freezing your horizon”. I love this phrase. For me, paints a very clear image of what this story I was telling myself was doing to my mindset and my future.

Then, (God love the man), I started exploring who Bruce was – deep down beyond the man that I knew. He was such a spiritual person, and soon I found myself reading the books he read and listening to the speakers he enjoyed. These were all things he had offered to me during our time together, but back then, I wasn’t ready to hear… At that time, life was good and I thought I already had all the answers… I was wrong.

It was taken years… Years of baby steps – but still many years of (slowly) moving forward. And what I have learned (so far) is this…

For way too long, my focus was on all the wrong things. I was focused on what was, what is no longer, what is missing… what is frozen and stuck. I couldn’t see a way forward, because I was still telling myself that there was no way forward… In front of me was only more of the same – pain and loneliness.

Then, a few years ago, things started to change… I started changing my focus. Instead of focusing on what is stuck, I started looking at what is changing – day by day, moment by moment. Sometimes big changes (like my career), and sometimes small changes like learning to laugh again without the guilt of Bruce not being here to laugh with me.

It sounds odd, I know, but I started looking at pain as my teacher – not my future. I started looking for the things I was learning and doing simply because I am still here… because I am searching for answers. I was looking for the good despite the bad… I was looking at the lessons that the pain was reflecting back to me.

When I did that, I also learned that whether I denied the pain or wallowed in it was the same basic action. It was me trying to control it by either shoving it down deep and ignoring it or by pulling it up front and making it the only choice on the menu. However, when I tried to control that pain, I only create more suffering for the simple reason that it became my only focus.

I couldn’t see any other options, because I only allowed myself to see this one… the pain. Over time, it became a habit. Yet, like any habit it could be undone – although it is hard and takes quite a bit of work.

Today, I want to share one of the things that seems to work, (at least for me). This is something very subtle, but the impact is huge. It has involved making a very tiny change to the story I tell myself…

Instead of telling myself, “I am grieving” or “I am broken”, which I did a lot, now, I tell myself that “Grief (or brokenness) is moving through me.” In other words, it isn’t a part of me. It isn’t permanent. It is just present in this current moment. I can recognize it, but I don’t need to embrace it.

This simple change takes the power away from the emotion by no longer declaring it as a permanent part of who I am. It then becomes easier to focus on the other things around me… the good things… the things that create peace in my mind and joy in my heart… I have even found that this is how I am handling all of the pain and chaos that seems to be permeating our culture lately… So, for me, this is how I am learning to survive – not just my grief, but also this wild ride called “life”.
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Grief is a daily challenge that changes us in ways we could never foresee, making this journey a difficult path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone.

I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.

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 – Grief Burnout

Well… I survived another year… Another year without Bruce… Another set of back-to-back special days. For those of you who have been on this journey for more than a year, you know that there are “special” days throughout the year that are just a little bit harder than other days, such as anniversaries, holidays, birthdays… I am sure you know what I mean.

For me, most of those “special” days fall back-to-back in the months of November through early January. It starts in early November with our wedding anniversary, then in quick succession there is Thanksgiving, my birthday, Christmas, the day we met, New Years, and the day Bruce died – all within ten weeks.

In years past, I wasn’t so sure I would survive. It was always completely overwhelming. Then, add on the fact that the rest of the world is truly celebrating, and I don’t want to be the one who brings everyone else down. So, I always tried to smile my way through it in public, while grieving in private. (I can’t say I was always successful with the public part… Although, I tried.)

While each year has had its own challenges, looking back, I can see a consistent pattern of me being able to manage the grief a little bit better each year. There was the first year when I ran away to the Keys and stayed on a yacht to avoid the whole Christmas season. Then, a year or two later, I can remember actually singing carols again… and enjoying them. There were the years when my grandson lived here, and I was able to focus on him the whole season… So, growth – slow, but steady.

I’m okay with that… It has been slow, but it has also been moving in a positive direction. Step by step… year by year, I have slowly found myself learning to live again within the spirit of the holiday season. I must admit, though, that it still has its challenges.

Today, as I finally find myself on the other side of all those special days, I have to admit, I am absolutely exhausted! The emotional toll has left me completely spent. I believe there is a term for it, although I just heard it for the first time a few weeks ago… “grief burnout”.

The Cleveland Clinic defines burnout as “physical, emotional or mental exhaustion, accompanied by decreased motivation and performance.” Oh my gosh!! That is exactly how I feel… Physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted… to the point of not caring.

But… I have to care. Life keeps moving forward and so must I. So how do I do that??

I’ll be honest, after so many years of this, I knew it was coming. I knew how I would feel. While the rest of the world is spending January focusing on how to be a better person, I am just trying to come back from the tsunami of grief that has left me gasping for breath on the shore.

So… this year, I decided to have a plan… a self-care, self-love plan… A plan that gives me permission to rest for a while and not worry so much about new goals or resolutions. A plan that gives me permission to delay those for a month or two. Here is what I mean…

One of the big signs of burnout is fatigue. I am talking about the kind of exhaustion that makes it hard to even breathe, much less get up and do. So, my plan for the next few weeks is to rest… to do the things I can (or must) do, and not to worry about anything else. It will all still be there in a few weeks, and I will take care of it then. For now, if I want to go to bed one or two hours early, I will. Who cares? It isn’t hurting a soul, and I will definitely feel better in the morning.

Another sign of burnout can be apathy. For me, this means I need to be intentional about the things I am doing. It may (and usually does) mean I am doing a little bit less, but the things I choose to do are things I care about… Things that I believe matter or make a difference… Things that make me smile.

Lack of focus has been a big burnout symptom for me this year. Part of my daily routine is to meditate each morning. It helps me to get my mind into a good space before starting my day. However, the last few weeks I have struggled with this. Whereas I usually meditate for 30 minutes or more, I have been lucky to even sit still (much less meditate) for longer than 10 minutes. My brain just keeps going in 100 directions all at once. It has become a lesson in frustration every single morning. Yet, I haven’t quit.

I know that routine is an important part of gaining focus, so I am sticking with it. This morning, I even managed six minutes of meditation before my mind decided to take over. However, instead of worrying about the amount of time I didn’t meditate, I decide to be grateful for the six minutes that I did. (It’s all in the perspective, right?)

Finally, my daughter introduced me to an app for self-care. Its cutesy and colorful… and it makes me smile. It walks me through my daily goals and never makes me feel bad if I don’t hit each goal every day. Plus, we are able to support each other through our daily goals, by sending each other encouragement, hugs and “gifts”. So far, my goals have been very basic, I mean very basic – like “get out of bed”. I’m sure that sounds silly, but for right now, I’m so tired that this goal is harder for me than one might think.

I guess, because I had never heard the term “grief burnout” before, I never thought of this exhaustion and brain scramble as anything other than “grief brain”. Granted, most people use the term “grief brain”… Even I have used it many times.

However, I think the term “grief burnout” may work better for everyday language. Why? Because many people have never experienced deep grief before, so the term “grief brain” means nothing. Yet, most people have experienced burnout at some point, so it automatically becomes something they can understand… something that may feel less uncomfortable because it is something they can relate to… Maybe.

Anyway, no matter what words you use or if you use no words at all… If the holidays have left you feeling emotionally depleted, please, love yourself enough to give yourself the gift of self-care… You are worth the investment.
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Grief is a daily challenge that changes us in ways we could never foresee, making this journey a difficult path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone.

I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.

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 – The Worst Night Ever

This is “the” weekend… The anniversary of Bruce’s death. Although the word “anniversary” feels wrong. It is usually used to signify a celebration of some kind, and this coming day is anything BUT a celebration. For over a week now my emotions have been a roller coaster between rough moments and less rough moments… (if that makes sense). One minute I am okay and the next I can’t stop the memories of that night, and the tears pour uncontrollably down my cheeks.

While I have shared this story many times before, it seems appropriate to share the story of that night one more time… Plus I can’t seem to think about anything else. Please bear with me… Some of my memories of that night are quite foggy while others are as sharp as if it all just happened.

I remember waking up shortly after midnight. We were still snuggled up, but Bruce sounded like he was having a nightmare. I remember trying to wake him up. I called his name and shook him hard several times. As I reached across him to turn on the bedside lamp, he seized up, then suddenly went limp. I was frozen for a moment – not quite sure what to do. My instinct was to call 911. However, I also knew if I was over-reacting, he would not be happy with me. He always hated attention. (Keep in mind, this debate in my own mind took less than half a second.)

I called 911.

I remember talking to the dispatcher while racing to open the front door for the EMS crew. I remember the dispatcher asking if Bruce was still breathing… I know it sounds ridiculous, but I couldn’t tell. He sounded like he was trying to breathe but couldn’t catch his breath. Finally, I said, “No, I don’t think he is breathing.” (I remember thinking how stupid I must sound.)

The dispatcher asked if I knew how to do chest compressions. I did. In fact, up until that point, I had been “the” CPR certified person in our office for years. He then asked if I could move Bruce to the floor so the compressions would be more effective. I couldn’t – Bruce was a bodybuilder and more than twice my size. Plus, our bed was so high up, it required stairs for me to climb into it.

Instead, I had to find something solid and get it under him before I could start the compressions. I found something that would work but getting it under him was another problem. It took all my strength to roll him onto his side and hold him there while I positioned the board beneath him.

I remember thinking I was wasting so much time… I needed to move faster, but my feet felt like I was running in wet cement.

I finally started the compressions while counting out loud. I was only on 53 or 54 when the EMS team walked in and took over. They immediately moved him to the floor as they took over the compressions and inserted a breathing tube attached to a breathing bag. I realized immediately that the pulse line on their monitor was flat. I watched from a few feet away, as they tried injecting medication directly into his heart… but the line on the monitor stayed flat. Next, they tried the “paddles”… but still, the line on the monitor remained flat.

I remember standing perfectly still… frozen in space and time – completely silent… yet on the inside, I was screaming for him to come back… but I already knew. No one said a word… They didn’t need to – we all knew.

They continued doing CPR as we waited for a police officer to arrive who could drive me to the hospital behind the ambulance. There were no sirens and no one beside me in the squad car… just myself and my worst fear coming true… and I couldn’t make any of it stop.

At the hospital, they led me to a “consultation room.” There was one dimly lit lamp on a table and two couches on opposite walls facing each other. I remember sitting there alone at first. I remember I didn’t want to be there. I already knew what the “consultation” would be, and I didn’t want to hear it… I didn’t want to hear those words.

While it felt like forever, it was only a few minutes before the attending physician came in and said the words that made everything final and real… a confirmation of what I didn’t want to know for sure.
In that moment my world fell apart. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I remember thinking that for so many years, Bruce had been my hero – my knight in shining armor – and now, in his moment of crisis, I had failed him.

His next breath had depended on me, and despite everything I tried… he had died.

Believe me when I say, I know it is hard to lose a spouse. I know it is even harder to watch them take their last breath… I also know the worst is knowing that his next breath… his very life had depended on me, and I failed.

It took over four months for the autopsy results to come back. The cause of death was listed as “hypertensive heart disease” – high blood pressure. (Bruce had been on medication for years for his blood pressure.) The Medical Examiner called to further explain his findings… the piece of the puzzle he felt I needed to know.

As he explained it, Bruce’s heart was twice the size it should have been. This was caused by hypertension. He explained that the high blood pressure forces the heart to work harder to pump the blood. The heart, like any muscle, grows when it works hard… forcing the heart to work even harder. Over time, this creates an unhealthy cycle.

The Medical Examiner also asked if anyone had performed CPR on Bruce that night. I told him that I had tried but failed. As we talked, he was very kind and explained that I was really “too small to be effective at CPR.” He said that CPR is used as an attempt to help someone who is technically already dead and most times it is not effective… especially when performed by someone my size on someone Bruce’s size.

He further explained that, in reality, no one could have saved Bruce that night. Because of his heart size, Bruce had needed a heart transplant. Without it, once his heart stopped, there was no way to restart it… No one could have saved him that night… no one, because it was already too late.

While my rational mind understood all of this, emotions are not rational. So, despite the rational understanding, I struggled with guilt for well over a decade.

At first, I tried to deal with my guilt by talking about it, but people weren’t really equipped to help. Their response usually sounded something like, “You know you couldn’t have saved him.” (Yes, I know.) “You’ve been told there was nothing anyone could have done.” (True.) “Don’t say that. You know better. Stop thinking like that.” (True, but what I felt and what I knew were two different things, and I didn’t know how to make it stop until I finally got some professional help.)

Back then, though, I quit trying to talk about it… I didn’t blame people for being uncomfortable or for the things they said. They were trying. They meant well. (And I appreciate that effort.) They wanted to help by having me look at the facts… The problem was I knew the facts, but that didn’t help me deal with the emotions. My rational mind understood all the facts.

I had no regrets about our relationship or how we spent our time together. (I still don’t.) And as hard as it has been, I am thankful that I held Bruce while he took his last breath. I am so thankful I was with him, and he didn’t die alone.

Through therapy, I have learned that regret and guilt are emotions that get us nowhere. They are not productive. They cause us to bog down where we are – unable to move forward because we are spending too much time ruminating on the past. At the same time, we have to process all of that to heal… I couldn’t just shove it down and pretend I was okay, because for years, I wasn’t okay.

Thankfully, I finally processed all of those emotions. In fact, for the past two years, I have actually been able to simply grieve his loss without the added weight of guilt, regret, or failure. That has been huge… I’m still sad. I still miss him… This upcoming day in January is still the hardest one on the calendar… and that night will always feel like the worst night ever. However, to be able to simply grieve without all of that other stuff has completely flipped my journey, and for that… I am so thankful.

I was who I was,
Because you were beside me.
I am who I am,
Because you aren’t.
~ Linda, January 2013

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Grief is a daily challenge that changes us in ways we could never foresee, making this journey a difficult path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone.

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 – Grief Lessons

Note: If you noticed that I was missing last week, thank you for noticing. I was visiting family in SC. Knowing that this time with family is precious and not promised next year, I wanted to devote all of my energy on those moments.

With the new year, this week has been one of reflection… What worked… What didn’t… What did I learn… And what do I want to focus on moving forward. That being said, I thought I would share my Top 10 List of Grief Lessons Learned in 2025.

1. Grief was debilitating in the beginning. Back then, every moment was a struggle to simply keep breathing. After almost 13 years, grief has seemed to settle into a state of sad acceptance with only occasional debilitating waves. (This is also something I am grateful for… The energy required in the beginning would not be sustainable forever.)

2. My word for 2025 was “truth” – live it, speak it, stand in it… However, I learned pretty quickly that people don’t necessarily like truth, despite all the noise to the contrary. The only “truth” most of us like is the one that allows us to continue thinking, saying, or doing everything the same way without any challenges, self-awareness, or ideas that might necessitate change. (Especially when the person standing in their truth is someone who has always been a “pleaser” in the past who made life easier – not more thought-provoking.)

3. Grief has taught me that joy and happiness really are two very different things. While happiness can be fleeting and is much more dependent on external circumstances, joy is completely internal and can be accessed despite external circumstances – even the truly devastating ones like grief. It isn’t easy… but it’s depth and availability are completely within my grasp.

4. All things are made up of energy, (atoms)… And energy never vanishes or dies. It can transform, but it never simply disappears. Therefore, when our loved ones die, their energy is still around us, but in a different form. It is on us to be open to “seeing” that energy and recognizing it as their present love.

5. Having lost the love of my life, resulting in tons of personal research, therapy, and writing this blog, one would think that I would be the first person to reach out and know just what to say when someone else experiences a similar loss. I do try. However, the introvert in me still struggles terribly with that. I know that we all experience life and grief differently, so I still worry about making assumptions and saying the wrong thing based on my own experience. (This is one of those lessons that I need to continue working on.)

6. Grief comes in many forms, with many triggers… and all of it has its challenges. In other words, it’s all hard… and it all sucks!

7. Self-care is how I manage my grief best. When Bruce was alive, we took care of each other. We made sure the other person had not only what they needed, but also the little things that energize us. For each of us, that looked different, but we each know when the other wasn’t getting that care that helped us maintain balance. With Bruce gone, I now have to stay aware of my own needs and maintaining that balance. It might look like meditation, going for a run, a hot bath, or even looking in the mirror and giving myself a compliment. It feels weird and even self-centered sometimes, but I also know I am a better person when I do it. Self-care (for me) isn’t optional anymore – it’s mandatory.

8. According to “experts”, there are five stages of grief. I’m not disputing this theory. However, it is important to know that these “stages” are not some kind of linear, step-by-step map for grief healing. It is more of a way to categorize the biggest emotions felt in grief and are used to understand our current emotions and needs. Each stage can appear, disappear, and re-appear multiple times throughout the years. They can even overlap, or multiple ones can show up at the same time… And while there will be past lessons you can apply, there will also be new lessons and new challenges that must be learned before moving on.

9. Friends and family mean everything… I mean the ones who don’t require you to adjust your grief to make them feel better… I am talking about the ones who don’t try to talk you out of your grief or belittle your emotions… I am referring to the ones who are willing to simply sit with you in the darkness, if that is what you need… These are the heroes! These are the ones who will guarantee your survival… These are the ones who help us find our way back out of the darkness so we can live the life that is still before us.

10. It isn’t all about me… It never was… If I want others to accept me where I am on this journey, then I must do the same for those around me. I need to remember that I am not the only one dealing with sadness or pain. I am not the only one with lessons to learn. We all need to know there is someone who cares… And we all need to be that someone for others.

So, that’s it. I am sure I could come up with more, but ten seems like a good number… And besides, this gives me a lot to contemplate as I move into 2026.
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Grief is a daily challenge that changes us in ways we could never foresee, making this journey a difficult path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone.

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