Time changes nothing on its own…
That is my job now.
This is a journey.
It is mine…
I must own it to survive it.
~ Linda, September 2013
This next week I will be traveling… heading to a spiritual retreat in GA. While normally I avoid being still for too long, this time I am looking forward to some down time – time to think and process without all the noise of daily life and routines. I know I am going to miss my family here and my home… And although this isn’t a long journey, I know that after a week, it will be a treat to return home.
This is the way life is…. filled with journeys – true journeys and metaphorical journeys. It is how we grow and learn and develop. It is how we discover new things about ourselves and how we expand our lives. In fact, when we suffer loss, what is it called? It is called a grief journey.
Like all other journeys, there is something to be learned, but unlike other journeys, I did not choose this one. It is not a path anyone would willingly take, but for those of us who find ourselves here, we didn’t have an option. In fact, now the only choices are to move forward or stand still. Many times along the way, I have hesitated, not quite willing to take the next step… Eventually, I do manage to take a breath and put one foot in front of the other… moving tentatively until I can get my bearings.
Life, itself, is a journey. It takes me where it will – sometimes there are choices and sometimes there is not… Some paths are scary, and others are absolutely amazing…
For Bruce and I, our journey started when we met while cruising in the Virgin Islands. Therefore, it only seemed fitting that throughout the years of our marriage, we did a lot of traveling. Like any journey, you learn a lot about a person when you travel with them. Bruce and I were no different.
We learned right away that traveling in a car together for any extended amount of time was not the best idea. Why? Well, Bruce did not snack at all while driving, and he liked it completely quiet. I, however, love to eat, drink, sing, talk, and play games. (In other words – I like to be entertained.)
I can remember a particular trip from Michigan to Alabama when I learned Bruce didn’t like opera. I was driving and he was napping (or trying to). So to fill the time, I sang opera the entire way. Guess who was not amused… Go figure! We both laughed about that one for years!
I have written several times about the night Bruce died. A few times, I mentioned the ride home from the hospital… alone. At the time, I remember thinking that this would be my life now… always coming home alone to no one. What I did not realize was the enormity of what that would entail. For years that was my life… And it was quite daunting. I can remember on many occasions sitting in the driveway in my car… Not wanting to walk inside to the overwhelming quiet that waited there for me.
The expanse of just how lonely this journey could be began to dawn on me in the early weeks after Bruce’s death. I would turn the corner and see Bruce’s truck still sitting there in the driveway. My first instinct was happiness and excitement. Bruce was home! Then, it would hit me full force, and I would remember… Bruce was not home; no one was home. The truck was still sitting there, because I hadn’t sold it yet.
However, months later after selling his truck, I learned that coming home still wasn’t any easier. In fact, even now there are days when I find myself wishing with all my heart that he would be there to greet me when I walk through the door. I no longer cry or breakdown, but I do secretly wish for all of this to be a dream… for him to be there waiting to greet me with a hug and a smile.
Flying together, however, was a different story. Those journeys were fantastic! We would always snuggle up. (Yes, we were that couple.) Sometimes, I would lay my head on his shoulder and snooze. Other times we would play games on his phone or share a set of headphones and listen to music together. For us, it didn’t matter what we did; what was important was the time spent together. It was our journey… together.
This last year, I found myself on another journey… Learning to manage the path of cancer was hard, and while I had some absolutely fantastic people by my side the whole way, traveling that path without Bruce by my side was the hardest part.
Thankfully, I am blessed to still live this space that was ours. This space where I can still feel Bruce’s presence all around me. Perhaps it sounds silly, but the comfort this space has brought me this past year felt a little like coming full circle on this journey.
I guess what I am saying is we have no control on where life takes us… Sure we make choices, but we don’t control the whole picture… We can’t foresee the bends and turns in the path ahead. In fact, the best we can do is to look for the blessings and be thankful for them, love the people around us and find comfort in the simple things life offers… And while I still trip up sometimes, that has become my goal… my way of moving forward through this journey.
I have learned a lot on this grief journey so far. At first, I was so angry, I was resistant to learning anything. What in the world did I need to learn alone that I couldn’t learn with Bruce by my side? However, in time I have come to learn that isn’t the point. It wasn’t about Bruce and I being together until the end of our lives. Instead, it was about us being together and loving each other until the end of his life. I know we will be together again one day, but my life isn’t over.
My journey of love with Bruce taught me so much… My journey of grief has also taught me a lot, and Bruce still gets credit for that. Why? Because when he died, he left a beautiful legacy in his wake.
I constantly find myself trying to learn more about who he was and what made him tick by experiencing all the things I took for granted while he was here. I love to read his “go-to” books, listen to his music and try doing the things he enjoyed. I love finding notes he scribbled in the margins of books, on cards or just scraps of paper tucked inside something.
The funny part is while I am doing all those things, in my quest to understand him, I usually end up learning so much more about myself. I have learned that there is still so much more out there for me. As long as I have breath, l have a purpose… Without a doubt, I know I still have so much to learn and so much more to give back wherever life should take me…
What about you? Where are you on your journey? Where has life taken you? What have you learned? We all know this journey is hard, but it is even harder to bear alone. I believe we are in this together. None of us are alone, because we have each other. Please feel free to reach out and share your story or thoughts. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note. *
Who knows? Your story may the answer for someone else.
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Hi I lost my best friend and cousin 3 years ago, we were together constantly. We laughed and yes occasionaly fought but it did not last long, He was my confident my best friend and my caregiver, I found him in his bed and he was already gone at the young age of 61. Its been 3 years and I still cry all the time, I am stuck and dont know what to do, He left everthing to me and I got a place in FLA for the winter and at first I hated it but the more I come down here I like it better. My family is no help since Patrick has been gone I have been pretty much isolated and ignored, Not sure where my path will take me FLA or Boston which I love and spent my whole life there, I just do not know what I should be doing
Elizabeth, I am so sorry for the loss of your BF and cousin. I certainly understand about how it can take a long time. It has been 6 years for me, and I still miss Bruce as much today as on the day one. It is a hard road. I felt so alone for years, and that is a hard one to overcome. We are here for you, and we care! {{hugs}}
What a blessing to have met you. Your writing touches my heart. Hope all was well when you got home. Peace and love to you. Lib Campbell
Thank you, Lib! I am so blessed to call you my friend! Love you!