Peace, Love and Grief… Where It All Started

In each breeze,
let me feel your touch.
In each sunrise,
Let me experience your joy.
In each storm,
Let me feel your strength.
In the quiet,
Let me hear your voice telling me…
All is well…
Each moment was planned.
Each smile was for me.
And your acceptance of life as it is
was your gift to help me through this storm.
I loved you
And even now, you love me.
~ Linda, September 2013

When I started this blog years ago, I had a dual purpose. One was to create a virtual community of support for anyone suffering loss. The other was to help those around us understand how best to offer support. Those first few weeks (and months) there were only a few of us here… Now, there are many of us here… Members of a club we would rather not belong to.

Many of you have shared your stories with me privately and a few publicly… It has been over two years since I shared my own story… My own start on this journey which has changed my life… This is where it all started…

Today’s story is about Bruce’s death and cremation, and the questions that followed it – mine and others. I don’t belittle the hurt others felt or the idea that someone else may have made different choices. (Of course, they would.) But this is my story…

My hope is that by being honest, we can move away from the idea that grief is something we need to “do right” and replace it with the realization that it is a process. A process that requires the griever to live and bargain with each moment as it comes… none of it is easy or rational. It is a moment by moment journey and we do the best we can in each moment…

It was Friday night, January 11, 2013. I worked late but still managed to beat Bruce home. I arrived at 6:30 PM with Chinese food to share for dinner. (It took several years before I could eat Chinese food, again. Even now, it is not on my list of go-to dinner choices.) Bruce got home around 8… He had worked another long, 15-hour day and was exhausted.

I remember being so excited to see him… I ran to the door to greet him and take his cooler. He said he was too tired to eat much so he just had a little soup. I sat with him while he ate, and we talked about our plans for the weekend – kayaking or the beach? We laughed because we both knew it didn’t really matter – just being together and near the water would be wonderful.

When we went to bed, I was fretting about something… I was the worrier, and Bruce was always so chill. We used to joke that he was Pooh Bear (with a beer not a honey pot), and I was Piglet (the tiny worrier). I remember hearing him chuckle as he kissed my forehead, pulled me close and we snuggled into bed.

A few short hours later, I woke up. I was still in his arms, but he sounded like he was having a nightmare. I tried to wake him. I called his name and shook him over and over. Suddenly, he seized up, and collapsed. I was terrified. I called 911 and started CPR. Although the 911 operator was talking to me the whole time, my mind seemed frozen… It all felt like a dream… This couldn’t be really happening… It couldn’t!

Within moments, EMS was here and took over. They tried everything – a breathing bag, an Epi-pen and the “paddles”… but the line on the monitor stayed flat. I watched silently from the bedroom door, but inside my head I was screaming for him to come back… but I knew. No one said a word… but we all knew. The responders kept doing CPR, but there were no more “tricks” in their bag, and there was no longer any sense of urgency. Instead, they waited (actually waited) until a police officer came to drive me to the hospital. Then, with no sirens and no one beside me, we made our way to the ER. It was so surreal…

It was my worst nightmare, and I couldn’t wake up…

Once at the hospital, they put me in a “consultation room” where I sat… alone. The next few minutes were the longest of my life, as I sat there… waiting… Finally, the door opened and a doctor came in to tell me what I already knew. I remember just sitting there… I’m pretty sure I was crying (because I remember having a tissue in my hand), but there was not anyone to hold me and tell me it would be okay… not anymore…

My hero was gone…

I was led to a room where Bruce lay on a gurney… so still… Too still. All the machines and equipment had been turned off, but the remnants of their efforts were still all around us. I was allowed to stay with him until the Medical Examiner came. I remember stroking his face, his hair and his whiskers. I remember kissing his cheek and begging him to open his eyes. I remember thinking this whole thing was impossible! This could not be real… Surely, he was going to open his eyes at any moment and say, “Gotcha!”

But he didn’t… This was all too real…

I remember telling him how much I love him… and I remember crying. There was no one… I was completely alone, and I knew deep inside that was how it would be from now on. When the Medical Examiner’s office came and took him away, the police officer drove me back home.

I was so numb and confused. It just didn’t seem real… How could this be? How could This wonderful man be gone? This man who loved me with no conditions… just complete and total love. How could a loving God take that away? How could Bruce really be gone? It seemed so wrong… so impossible.

I remember I started calling people. It was 3 AM, but I didn’t know what else to do. I remember calling his parents, my parents, our siblings and our children. I even remember calling his boss and a couple of close friends. Then, I spent the next few hours cleaning the house and preparing for everyone to arrive.

The next few days are a blur. I can remember some things but not a lot. I was in such complete shock. The main thing I remember was how I had to concentrate just to breathe… Life just seemed to stop for me, and I wanted to the world to stop too… I wanted to get off… This was too much!

Within a couple of weeks, everyone had gone back home. As for me, I hadn’t come to terms with any of it yet. It felt like I wasn’t even breathing again… but they had lives and homes and families to get back to… they couldn’t stay forever… I would have to figure this out on my own.

I remember thinking I had to be strong and brave so Bruce would be proud. I wanted to do this widow thing “right.” I had to do what I remembered he had wanted. During those last few months, there had been a few conversations about death and what we wanted. There wasn’t a lot he was picky about, but I remember he always said that he did not want a viewing or a big funeral. (He hated being the center of attention.) He wanted to be cremated and to have his ashes scattered in the ocean. He was quite adamant that he did not want to end up on a shelf somewhere. So that was my plan. I had no idea what I was doing and there was no one to guide me… but I was going to give it my all.

Two weeks later the funeral home called, and I went to pick up his ashes. I’m not sure what I expected, but here is what happened… First, they tried to give me the wrong ashes. Then, they put them in a plastic bag – like the kind you get at the grocery store. I was so appalled. Were they kidding me?! This was a man… He was my husband… He was my soul. I remember crying all the way home. Once here, I lit a candle in front of the container and simply sat vigil for the next 24 hours. How could such a wonderful man be inside such a small container? It was too much to comprehend.

The next day, I started making plans… I couldn’t sit here forever. I wanted to follow his wishes, but I also wanted to honor him. The memorial was held a few months later – on his birthday at sunrise. As much as I wanted to, I did not keep any ashes, nor did I give any away. I wasn’t trying to be cruel or unkind to anyone. I was merely trying to do what Bruce had wanted. He was my world; my allegiance was to him, and I needed to do this right. Thankfully, his family was understanding and supported me completely in following Bruce’s wishes.

On the day of the memorial, it was supposed to rain… but it didn’t. It was beautiful. At sunrise, my son took Bruce’s ashes out in the kayak past the breakers and scattered them. The memorial and brunch were perfectly “Bruce,” and I know he was smiling. Saying goodbye was one of the hardest things I have ever done. It hurt so bad… In fact, it still hurts…

However, I am so proud of this man and what he added to this world and my life… The legacy he left behind is one of unconditional love and acceptance. He was truly amazing…

And he was my hero… Always and forever…

Learning to navigate through this journey is different for everyone… The beginning of this journey is the hardest. There are no instructions and most of us have no idea what to do. We all move through this journey at our own pace and in our own way… and we each have our own experiences that help us make it through. If this feels familiar, we are here… you are not alone. If you are someone who needs a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. *

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