Grace… There are several definitions, but kind of grace I am referring to is defined as “courteous goodwill” or “free and unmerited favor or blessing.” In other words, being “caring” or “being kind to” someone (period)… Not because it is earned or deserved, but just because.
I know the love between Bruce and me felt like grace. It was unconditional and ongoing no matter what was happening in our lives. We both had our good days and our bad, and we loved each other through all of it. So, when I say we loved each other, it was with the grace of unconditional love.
Of course, there were times when we were frustrated or angry with each other. However, when nighttime came, we put all of it aside, because when all was said and done, our love was greater than our anger. Every night, we kissed, went to bed together… And slept in each other’s arms. There was a grace between us that wouldn’t allow for anything less.
When Bruce died, I felt the loss of that daily grace down to the depths of my soul. I think in many ways that may have been (and still is) the hardest part to heal. You see, I had never experienced anything like that before Bruce… And I’m not sure I ever will again.
A couple of months before I met Bruce, I remember my mother saying, “You need someone to love you like God does – but with skin on.” … And that was Bruce… that was our love… A love filled with grace. So, when it was gone, I was devastated… Because it also seemed like all grace was gone.
I know in the beginning, I was so hurt and angry, I didn’t have any grace for anyone. People tried (in the only ways they knew) to reach out or to say the “right thing.” I think I did a lot of smiling on the outside while seething on the inside. I KNOW I spent way too much time dwelling on why this or that response was wrong or hurtful. And yes, they were… However, the hearts and motivation behind those responses weren’t. People meant well… They wanted to help. However, at the time, I couldn’t find the grace to see that.
It took me years to be able to smile with grace and see the love behind the statements that can hurt on the surface. Sure, there are times even now, when I have to smile and walk away, because what is said can still hurt. The difference is I’m not angry anymore.
Instead, I have come to feel a grace that is greater than me… And this grace allows me to see the love and compassion that motivated the response or advice. It is such a different response from me than in the past. I am no longer left drained emotionally or angry about those things which are actually born out of good intentions. In other words, the grace that started with Bruce and me is still inside me somewhere… It just took me a while to find it again.
But… This story doesn’t end there… You see, there is another person in need of that grace. Another person who, for years now, has struggled with showing that same grace to herself – me.
While I have no regrets about our time together, I still struggle with guilt about the night Bruce died… The night he needed me, and in my own eyes, I failed him. Yes, rationally I understand there was nothing I could do to save him that night. However, in my heart, I struggle to offer myself the grace of accepting that reality.
When Bruce and I were married, he showed me how to relax… how to enjoy life. We had our routine at night, where once dinner was over and things were cleaned up, that was the signal that work for the day was done… It was over. The next hour or so was ours. Some nights we sat and talked; others we watched TV or went for a walk. It didn’t matter… Every night we gave each other the grace to simply “be done.”
The weekends were similar. One day was spent doing those things we had to do, and the other was spent together… not working… but giving each other the grace to rest for a day and just love each other.
That is a grace I am still struggling to embrace again…
I guess since Bruce died, (perhaps to avoid the pain), I continually fill the time being busy. I seem to have “a gift” for finding things that need to be done. It has finally reached a point, lately, where I realized I won’t even watch TV without doing some household chore at the same time. In fact, allowing myself any “leisure time” has become pretty much non-existent.
Why? Why can’t I allow myself the grace to rest?
Honestly, I think there are probably many reasons. First, I think I’m scared to allow myself the grace to slow down and feel. I know how hard it can be to find the balance between feeling what I feel and falling into a deep, depressive grief wave. Another reason is likely that I’m not sure I deserve any time to rest, (which probably goes into a whole other can of guilt worms). However, the bottom line is I haven’t given myself the grace to say, “Yes. You can rest. It’s okay.”
This is the spot where I find myself lately. The spot where I offer myself the same grace that I offer others. The spot where I offer myself the same grace Bruce and I offered each other… The grace to “be done” for the day… The grace to rest and the grace to enjoy life… once again.
What about you? Do you know what I mean? Have you ever struggled to offer grace to others? How about yourself? Have you ever found yourself staying busy to avoid the pain? Or is there something else you do? Let us know… We would love to hear 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 that, as well. We are here for you.
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