grieve – Page 10 – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love, and Grief… Grief is Not for the Faint of Heart

How do I find my joy in this when you were my joy?
I am sinking on my own.
I know I need to find some peace in this,
But all I want to find is you.
How do I reconcile what I know with what I feel?
I can’t…
Instead, I smile, like a good girl,
Finding neither joy… nor peace… Not you.
~ Linda, Oct 2013

All of us have known struggles – some harder than others. Some requiring more from us and others resolving on their own. Grief, depending on what you are grieving, can fall in either category. However, when referring to the loss of a loved one, grief is one of those struggles that can be overwhelming and requires a lot from you. It has many facets and even more emotions that can leave you exhausted as you seemingly bounce from one to the next.

In other words, grief is not for the faint of heart… The end…

Just kidding…

If you have ever grieved, you would likely agree, because there is nothing truer. At the same time, because each of us is different, I think there is probably more to say, especially this time of year.

Grief, from day one, has been one of the hardest challenges I have ever encountered. It is probably the most overwhelming plethora of emotions I have ever felt. For me, grief has created a brokenness that affects me physically, emotionally, spiritually, and relationally… There is no part or piece of me that has not been affected by the loss of Bruce.

Physically… There are times when my heart hurts… I mean literally, physically hurts… To be honest, even now, there are times when I can’t even breathe because the pain is so deep and so intense… It feels like my heart has been ripped out of my chest and simply tossed aside… And there is no where to go to find any relief at all. Instead, I am left to smile at the world and pretend that all is well, but on the inside, I feel dead… I feel completely lost.

Emotionally… Grief isn’t just one emotion; it is a plethora of emotions… a jumbled mess of shock, disbelief, sadness, frustration, anger, abandonment. You name it, it’s there… just below the surface looking for a way out.

Spiritually… I was already struggling here when Bruce died. Immediately after he died, I lost any faith I may have had. I won’t lie… It has taken years for me to rebuild my faith… To make it something that is completely mine… something true… something that gives me hope, (which is something else I thought was completely gone).

Relationally… I am terrified… Terrified of losing another person I love. I am sure I will; that is the way the world is built. I am also very much aware that I avoid meeting new people because of this very thing. I think subconsciously, I do it out of self-protection… just to lower the odds of losing another person I love. I don’t believe I could survive another loss like this one. In fact, I know I couldn’t. After all, even all these years later, the loss of Bruce can still bring me to my knees when I think about how much I love this man who is no longer in my world.

Now… add to all that to the holiday season… family gatherings, Christmas movies all about love found, the songs, the traditions… and, of course, the memories. But no matter how much I wish it, or how much I beg to wake up from this awful nightmare, this is my reality. This is where I am.

And this… all of it, hurts. It’s hard… It’s too hard. Sometimes it feels like the world expects too much. I hate it, and I still don’t understand why it had to be this way.

Over the years, I have written about how hard this time of year is (because it is). I have also learned that the best way for me to get through it is to stay busy with other people, especially family. It isn’t just the distraction of being busy (although that is a huge part), there is also the love I feel when I am with my family. I know that probably sounds dysfunctional – too dependent on others. At the same time, I also know that we are creatures of relationships, and my family is full of strong, dependable relationships filled with love. So, when the times get tough (like now), I lean heavily on those. I draw strength from them to get me from one day to the next.

Yet, because it is the holidays and everyone else is filled with joy… and happiness… and excitement… and all the things, I must temper my grief. To function, there are many times when I find myself shoving all that grief down deep inside – pretending everything is okay, while in truth, without my family, I would be completely lost.

This weekend has been one of those “harder than normal” weekends. Somehow, despite trying to do otherwise, I have found myself here alone. Plans made had to be cancelled, which is okay – I get it… Things happen – things change. Plus, I have 1000 things I need to do to prepare for Thanksgiving in a few short days. It is the being alone, though, that makes it hard. It is looking around and remembering the holidays we shared here. It is walking through the stores and watching couples as they discuss and plan how to navigate the holidays. It is making recipes that were Bruce’s favorites or simply sitting here in the candlelight thinking about us.

There is no quitting. There is no forgetting. Instead, there is a constant ache… and an emptiness that can’t be filled. To survive, there is only taking one breath at a time… one step at a time. Praying that somehow, God could pull me onto his lap and hold me tight, rocking and comforting me like a small child.

That is a small glimpse of what I mean when I say grief is hard… That is what I mean when I say that grief is not for the faint of heart.
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All of us on this journey know that it isn’t easy. Congratulations to each of us for each day we have survived and moved ahead. We know that loss can be traumatic, and the grief and life we are left to figure out is hard. We have learned that healing takes time… There is a lot of trial and error and it moves at its own pace. Thankfully, though, there are moments and actions we can take to refresh our souls and guard our joy. There are also challenges where we learn that we are stronger than we think we are… Both of these provide moments where I learn a little bit more about faith, life, and love.

Thankfully, as the years pass, I can honestly say that there are more of good moments than bad. Each day, I continue to learn more and more about those things that seem to help me heal and move forward – like sharing precious memories. So, I will continue to allow myself the space I need to heal and process this life without my love… without Bruce. Thankfully, at this point in my journey, I am learning that I am not alone – thanks to you!

In fact, none of us need to be alone, because 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 and helps us to process that avalanche of emotions that grief brings us. 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.

* Be advised that all comments are subject to approval prior to posting. Any comments determined to be spam or not in accordance with the mission of this website/blog will not be approved or posted. Furthermore, any comments determined to be hostile in nature will be reported to the proper authorities. Thank you.

Peace, Love, and Grief… With All My Heart

This week was our anniversary… In keeping with years past, I have chosen to simply share the words I wish I could say to Bruce. Who knows… maybe by sharing them here… by putting them out into the universe, he will hear them too and know that my love for him is still going strong…

Hi Babe!

Happy Anniversary! It is hard to believe that this would have been year 17… Yet, it feels like only yesterday when we stood with our families in front of a judge, said, “I do”, and made promises of love and commitment. I can remember the feel of your hands holding mine. I can remember looking into your eyes and all of my doubts and fears about trusting someone again fell away… I knew this was right. I knew our love was true… and real… and forever.

This year, though, has been one of the hardest anniversaries to date…

I was really looking forward to a day spent simply celebrating us. I wanted to spend time on the beach watching the sunrise. Then, a celebratory dinner at our favorite restaurant down in Cocoa. Sadly, though, TS/Hurricane Nicole changed all of those plans. Instead, I have been stuck here at home, watching the weather and waiting… just waiting.

It feels so wrong… as if “we” never happened… I know it sounds melodramatic, but I have never not celebrated this day. I was actually supposed to be off today to spend the day celebrating us – the biggest blessing my little family has known. Instead, though, I gave the day back at the last minute yesterday. Knowing that I wouldn’t be able to go anywhere, it seemed like a very bad idea to sit here at home feeling sorry for myself versus celebrating.

So, I worked today. It seemed like a good idea to pass the time, and now, at the end of the day, I am simply sitting here in our space – celebrating with a glass of wine and writing to you all the things I wish I could tell you…

Let me start by saying, “Thank you!” Thank you for coming into my life and being my hero. Thank you for all of your love and support… for believing in me… for believing that I could do so much more than I ever imagined.

Thank you, too, for loving my kids… For being the man whom they could count on to love them no matter what… For being the man who showed unconditional love and support from day one. Thank you for showing them what a healthy marriage and an emotionally healthy man look like… For being a true father – not in name only, but in your everyday actions.

Thank you for all the love and endless hugs… For holding me in the night when I awoke terrified of dreams about the past that felt all too real… For greeting me at the door with a hug and a glass of wine at the end of a hard day… For making me feel like the only woman in the world (in your eyes) who mattered… For believing in me… and believing in us.

Thank you for days spent on the beach and all the barefoot dances in the kitchen… For your constant outlook for our safety, and your endless patience. Thank you for this beautiful home, and all the ways you tried to have everything in order before you died.

For all of this and so much more, I thank you! I know our love was a blessing that I will always cherish… a gift that I will never, ever forget.

I love you, Babe, with all my heart… Now and Forever!

Linda

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way.” ~ Pablo Neruda
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All of us on this journey know that it isn’t easy. Loss can be traumatic, and the grief and life we are left to figure out is hard. Healing takes time… There is a lot of trial and error and moves at its own pace. Thankfully, though, there are moments and actions we can take to refresh our souls and guard our joy. There are also challenges where we learn that we are stronger than we think we are… Both of these provide moments where I learn a little bit more about faith, life, and love.

Peace, Love, and Grief… Do I Stay or Do I Go?

When Bruce died, we had only lived in this town for a short time. In fact, I knew exactly four people here, but only well enough to speak if I saw them – not well enough to call them in case of a crisis. At the same time, the closest family member then was my son who lived 6+ hours away. So, when Bruce died, I went to the hospital alone. I came home alone. I called everyone on my own… and I waited… alone.

I remember the waiting… That was a long night.

Honestly, I had great friends at work, and they rushed to my side, but even they were an hour away and it was in the wee hours of the morning. It took some time. The time spent waiting was probably the loneliest and most abandoned I have ever felt. My boss, at that time, was a wonderful woman and the first to arrive, and she stayed with me until a few family members were able to get here.

By the end of the day, despite the amount of travel involved, most of our family were here and I was surrounded with love and support. Of course, though, they couldn’t stay forever, and within a couple of weeks, I was back to being alone.

At the time, in my quest to figure out how to manage this new path I was on, I read a lot about people who move almost right away after losing a spouse… usually to move in with or be closer to family. However, everything I read said not to make any major decisions for at least one year… to wait… give yourself time to think clearly and make better rational choices vs emotionally packed ones. As for me, there wasn’t a lot to consider. My job was here. Our home that we had shared was here. I couldn’t even begin to imagine leaving.

God works in funny ways, though, and within a few years, three of my four children had moved to Florida. For the last several years, they have all been within 45 minutes – 2 hours from me, so we see each other all the time. It has been a blessing I never thought would happen and absolutely relish each and every moment we have together.

So… Life moves on (as it should), and things change (as they should), and now I find myself wondering if I should consider moving closer to them. Sitting through the last hurricane alone was a little scary, and is actually what really got me thinking about it. I know we aren’t that far apart now, but how wonderful would it be to able to meet up for breakfast before work, or have a weekly family dinner (mid-week), or to be more involved in my grandson’s day-to-day world?

So that is my quandary… and I don’t know what to do… Overall, yes… it would be a positive move for me, and more than likely a good investment. At the same time, it means leaving our space… our home. For years, I have known in my heart that Bruce picked this house and space and did a little extra work to make it a safe place for me. I will always be convinced that he knew he wouldn’t always be here, and eventually, I would be alone. Our neighborhood is gated; he reinforced the windows and doors to make them more secure; and he added a security system. (All things he had never done in our previous home.)

But… to be closer to the kids means I have someone to call when I have an emergency or need a hand with something (like hurricanes or illness). Being closer to the kids means, as I get older and time is more precious, I am spending more time with the people I care most about. Also, since I tend to keep to myself and still only know about four people in town, I am alone most of the time… Being closer to my kids, though, means that would likely change (at least a little bit).

But… I still feel Bruce here… I am sure it has more to do with my heart than the floors and walls. However, I can’t help but wonder if that feeling will follow me to a new space? Will I still feel him, or will it feel like I am letting go and losing him all over again? I don’t think I could bear that… I don’t think I could survive that.

Granted, there is a certain amount of privacy that comes from having some distance between us, but I’m not sure that is always a good thing. Lately, since I work virtually, I find myself wondering how much of this loneliness is simply about hiding from the rest of the world. I mean, I go out with friends from work, and I absolutely see my kids at least once a week. However on a day-to-day basis, I have to make a conscious decision to leave the house… To get out in the world and simply smile and say “Hi” to people. Sometimes, I think it would be way too easy for me to just hide in here, and that is not good at all.

At the same time, other than this space, I really have nothing to keep me here, and I am torn.

So… what about y’all? For all the widows and widowers… I know we all have to make our own choices, and we all have our own reasons for those choices…. But what did you do? What were your reasons? I am interested… I know I want to make a solid decision, but I am really struggling…
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All of us on this journey know that it isn’t easy. Loss can be traumatic, and the grief and life we are left to figure out is hard. Healing takes time… There is a lot of trial and error and moves at its own pace. Thankfully, though, there are moments and actions we can take to refresh our souls and guard our joy. There are also challenges where we learn that we are stronger than we think we are… Both of these provide moments where I learn a little bit more about faith, life, and love.

Peace, Love, and Grief… Why Not Ask Why?

When Bruce died, I couldn’t understand why. He was still so young – only 52… We were still so young… For the life of me, it made no sense. For months, I waited for the autopsy report – for an answer as to how a health conscience man could be fine one moment and gone the next. I knew it wouldn’t change the fact that he was gone, but I really needed to know why.

At the time, there were many people who were also on my train… They needed the “why”, as much as I did. Yet, there were also others who questioned my need to know… “Why bother,” they would ask, “What difference would it make?”

I couldn’t answer those questions. (Now, I know I didn’t need to – I didn’t owe them an answer for any of those questions.) At the time, though, I began to feel that my asking “why” somehow made me bad – like I wasn’t trusting in my faith, somehow. But I needed to know… and trying to act like it didn’t matter only made me angry.

Why not ask why? What was wrong with needing to understand why? One minute he had been fine – laughing, teasing, loving… and a few short hours later, he was gone… Like someone had snapped their fingers and suddenly he was gone… Who wouldn’t ask why?

It took four months to get the medical answer to why… Yet here I am year later, still asking God… the universe… whoever is listening… Why? I still don’t understand. It still causes me to pause and take a deep breath before moving on. However, I don’t feel guilty about asking why anymore… I think it is a perfectly normal, valid question.

It has taken me a while to get here, though…

Growing up, questioning was frowned on. Don’t question authority. Don’t question your faith. Don’t question (period). Acceptance of what was or what I was told was the “good” way to behave. I didn’t dare question… I didn’t dare ask why.

That, however, got me knot some bad situations. For example. My first marriage… I was suppose to just accept it – chaos, violence, all of it – no “why’s” allowed.

As for my religion… why would God do this or allow that? What about parts of the Bible that contradict each other? NOPE! Supposedly doubt was okay – at least that is what we were told… But only if you accepted the answers to your questions at face value and then let it go.

In other words, “why” was always a bad word – like talking bad or being disrespectful in some way. So, asking that question made me as if I were bad, as well.

Yet, I’ve always kind of been that square peg – trying to do the right thing, but never quite fitting in. So when Bruce died, I think I was just finally at that point where I simply couldn’t keep playing the game. This time it hurt too badly to simply accept it. I was angry… This was wrong… This wasn’t fair… This time I needed to ask why. I couldn’t simply accept things as they were… I couldn’t “be good” anymore… I was hurting more than I have ever hurt… I was angry and confused… My world had fallen apart beneath my feet.

That was then; this is now…

Scientifically, I understand why he died. In my heart, though, I still find myself asking why… Sometimes I find myself asking Bruce why he left me here alone… Sometimes I ask God why he let Bruce die… I know I’ll never have a real answer to any of those questions. I also know that, more than likely, I’ll never stop asking.

The difference, though? Now, I don’t feel guilty for asking. It’s okay to feel what I feel… and it’s okay to question God (or the universe or whatever)… And… it’s definitely okay to ask, “Why?”
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All of us on this journey know that it isn’t easy. Loss can be traumatic, and the grief and life we are left to figure out is hard. Healing takes time… There is a lot of trial and error, and moves at its own pace. Thankfully, though, there are moments and actions we can take to refresh our souls and guard our joy. There are also challenges where we learn that we are stronger than we think we are… Both of these provide moments where I learn a little bit more about faith, life, and love.

Peace, Love, and Grief… It’s Okay to Grieve

Losing a loved one… losing a spouse is hard. Everyone deals with it in their own way according to the relationship and each individual personality. From the outside looking in, it appears that some people grieve long and hard while others seem to grieve quietly or move on quicker. Honestly, I believe that how a person grieves it up to them… and no one else.

In my experience, people were very understanding for the first six months or so. Even for the first year, most people were understanding and offered support. After the first year, though, I started noticing the judgement… It didn’t come from all directions, but it was frequent, and to say it was frustrating would be an understatement.

I can remember comments made about moving on or how I wasn’t the only person to ever lose someone… Back then, I was horrified and hurt at these types of comments. They weren’t helpful and only caused more pain for me to work through. I can remember people who wanted to “fix” me with essential oils or shame me with religious dogma or by telling me to consider how my on-going grief might be affecting others… No matter the approach, the ultimate message was, “Stop grieving. Stop feeling what you feel. Smile and go back to being who you were before all this.”

It was a terrible message, (not to mention impossible)… For the longest time, I questioned myself and if there was something wrong with me. There wasn’t… It was just that my way of working through this whole thing was slower than some, but just right for me. I didn’t need to be fixed, and I definitely didn’t need to be shamed. All these things did was to create more pain.

I know I’ve written about a lot of these situations before. I’ve written about things not to say to someone who is grieving. I’ve written about doing what is right for you if you are grieving and taking the time and space you need to heal. I still think that is all true.

This last week, however, (while I was away taking care of the grand-puppies), I thought about a few things…

1. Don’t feel bad about feeling bad. Your feelings are valid. This is hard and traumatic. The last thing you need to add to your pile of hurt is someone else’s opinions, especially when they have no idea. Also, (if you believe in the Christian faith), take comfort in knowing that there were times when even Jesus felt forsaken and alone, too. In other words, he gets it. He understands and there is no judgement for how you feel – only compassion. (No matter what some people will tell you.) Religion should never be used as a weapon – it should be a comfort… especially in times of hurt and grief.

2. Healing isn’t a switch – neither is love. It isn’t something that we can just turn off because that person is gone. There are good days and bad days. There are better days and not so better days. There are times when we just need to let ourselves cry, and times when we know we need to monitor our sadness for our own sakes (and no one else’s). Healing is a journey, and it takes time. So, take all the time you need… You owe yourself at least that much.

3. If you are watching someone grieve, no matter what you believe that grieving person should be doing, don’t say it. That is really just how you believe you would grieve. It is based on your personality and your relationships – not theirs. Simply be compassionate. Sit with them. Listen to them. Don’t be afraid to say the name of the person who died or to tell stories about them. Trust me when I say that means the world to the person grieving. To know it is okay to say their name – that the loved one is not forgotten is a comfort. (And if you are worried that mentioning the loved one will only bring up sadness and memories, you are wrong. The person grieving can think of nothing else. Talking about them is often a huge relief.)

That’s it… nothing earth shattering. Just a reminder to all of us that grief is hard. It is individual… and the best we can do is to just be kind and patient, and most of all… just keep loving each other.
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This journey isn’t easy… not that you need me to tell you that. Loss can be traumatic, and the grief and life we are left to figure out is hard. Healing is slow… There is a lot of trial and error, and it takes time. Thankfully, though, there are moments and actions we can take to refresh our souls and guard our joy. There are also challenges where we learn that we are stronger than we think we are… Both of these provide moments where I learn a little bit more about faith, life, and love.

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Peace, Love, and Grief… Maintaining Joy

This week I was asked a challenging question… How do you maintain joy in troubling times?

I have always been a positive person. However, since Bruce died, this is a struggle for me. Since joy is more than happiness… It is a deep inner feeling… a way of being… It is a “knowing” that what is happening around you, can’t “kill” what’s inside – like an assurance that in the end all will be well. At the same time, the trauma of Bruce’s death and the aftermath of grief have definitely affected that part of me.

When my daughter and grandson lived here, she brought with her a “24 Hour Rule”. This meant that you get 24 hours to feel sorry or sad or whatever negativity is haunting you. Then, you need to check yourself – reign it in and take the necessary steps to move forward. I remember, at first, thinking “Hmmm… We’ll see… I’ll feel what I feel for as long as I feel it.” Yet that attitude is exactly how I can end up so deep into the rabbit hole that I can’t get out… So, I decided to play along and give it a try.

For me, it turns out that even 24 hours can be too long… In that amount of time, I can get way too deep in that hole. Instead, I have found that small doses of grief and missing Bruce is healthier for me than allowing myself a 24 hour “deep dive”.

For example, this week while porch sittin’ with a friend, they told me about their own heart attack years ago. As they described their experience, I couldn’t help but think that this was probably what Bruce endured. After all, Bruce had a massive heart attack that night… only he didn’t recover… From that day to this, I have occasionally questioned what he was aware of, but I have never researched or read about a heart attack from a survivor’s account… Maybe because they were exactly that – survivors… and Bruce wasn’t… Or… maybe I’m just not ready yet.

My friend described how they were aware, but couldn’t move – as if they were paralyzed… Did Bruce have that sensation? Did he hear me call 911? Could he feel me performing CPR? My friend hadn’t mentioned pain, but did it hurt? Was he scared? Did he even know what was happening? … So many questions…

My friend, also, talked about “the light”. They described how they saw it and were drawn toward it. In their case, though, that was about the same time that EMS used the paddles to shock their heart. Luckily, for them (and those who love them), they were immediately drawn back to the present. They went on to tell me that it was at that point that they actually felt the pain and were able to move again.

I wondered about Bruce… Was he drawn to the light? I am guessing he must have been… Was it a choice? Could he see what was happening here? Or was the light so intriguing that nothing else mattered? As I sat there listening, I wondered all these things.

I was cognizant of a few things, though, as we sat there…
1. This was my friend’s story. It wasn’t about me or Bruce. I needed to let go and listen. My friend was who needed to be heard in that moment.
2. It would be healthier for me to ponder all of this later… on my own and in small doses.

So, that’s what I’ve done this week – ten minutes here… two minutes there. I’ve thought about it, and I’ve wondered… but I still have no answers. In the next few weeks, I may even look up some of these heart attack survivor stories. After all, this is also a part of Bruce’s story, so I want to know… I need to know… Or at the very least, to understand better how he experienced that night, too.

Then maybe, in time, I can meld our two stories from that night together… Maybe I can even find some peace. However, I know that if I try to do this too quickly, or all at once, it will absolutely cripple me emotionally… It would definitely steal my joy that I have worked so hard to regain.

So… slowly and in small doses… guiding my focus and guarding my joy… That has become my journey… That has become my “new normal”. That is how I am learning to maintain my joy in troubling times.
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This journey isn’t easy… not that you need me to tell you that. Loss can be traumatic, and the grief and life we are left to figure out is hard. Healing is slow… There is a lot of trial and error, and it takes time. Thankfully, though, there are moments and actions we can take to refresh our souls and guard our joy. There are also challenges where we learn that we are stronger than we think we are… Both of these provide moments where I learn a little bit more about faith, life, and love.

Peace, Love, and Grief… What Do I Do with a Hurricane?

During that first year after Bruce died, there were so many things that either we did together or he took care on his own, and I had no idea how I would fill that void. Almost ten years later, and the challenges still keep presenting themselves. Over time, though, I learned to either do those things on my own (using a lot of You Tube videos) or I have (thankfully) been able to pay someone to do. This last week, however, was different… This last week’s challenge came in the form of a hurricane named Ian…

Throughout my life, I have found that there are two categories of people when it comes to hurricanes – those who stay and those who leave. Granted, the reasons behind each decision are as individual and vast as the people being affected by the storm. I’m also not saying one decision is better than the other… just that each adult makes that decision for themselves.

Most of my life has been spent living in coastal towns, which means hurricanes have always been a part of my world. Personally, I don’t find them a great adventure, as some do… They are just like a price to pay for living where I live… and that’s my choice.

While Bruce has always loved the coast, he grew up in Michigan, so hurricanes were not something he had ever had to think about. In fact, years ago when we first moved down here to Florida, I remember him making the comment that he would love to see a hurricane. (What???) I remember looking at him and telling him that he would be here alone, because I have no intention of staying in harm’s way… He chuckled, but I don’t think either of us changed our minds.

Truthfully, we both had different emotions when it came to storms in general. I, on the one hand, have been in three different homes that were hit by lightning, so I am not a fan. I’m not scared, and I don’t cry… I just don’t like them. Bruce, on the other hand, liked nothing better than to sit on the porch during a storm and watch the lightning show. Needless to say, he sat out there by himself. LOL!

During our time together here in Florida, Bruce never did get to experience a hurricane. In fact, for another year or so after he died, our area of Florida was spared, so I didn’t have to think about it. However, soon after my daughter and grandson moved in, we had our first hurricane with suggested (not mandatory) evacuation. We decided to put up the shutters and leave town.

There were a couple more hurricanes through the years, and we did the same. However, there was one which was predicted to be a category 1 and not headed directly at us… So, we decided to stay. We prepped the house, got our hurricane supplies, and hunkered down.

I won’t lie… It was a little bit scary. I mean… I wasn’t hiding under the bed or anything, but I didn’t like it. We could hear all of the outdoor sounds, such as the wind, the trees breaking, things being tossed around, but because of the shutters, none of us could see what was actually going on. (That was way too far out of my comfort zone.) In the end, we were fine. We didn’t have power for a day or two, and a few bushes were lost, but nothing major.

Which brings us to Ian this last week…

First of all, it was in the Gulf… Sure, we would get some stormy weather, but I wasn’t worried. In fact, I would say most people in our little town weren’t too worried. We felt bad for those on the west side of the state, but were relieved it wasn’t our turn… Little did we know, it would be our turn too.

Granted, we didn’t get the full fury seen by SW Florida, (and my heart is breaking as we learn more and more about what Ian did there). Yet, Ian was still a hurricane when it passed over our town, and it was slow moving. I keep hurricane supplies and plenty of food and water all the time, so I didn’t need to worry about any of that. However, by the time I realized what we were likely to experience, it was too late to put up the storm shutters or leave town. (And where would I go if I tried to leave? That storm was so massive, it was wreaking havoc in all directions.) So, I pulled all of my outside furniture in, and prayed for the best.

I kept telling myself that I had done this before… I could do this again. I should also tell you that experiencing a hurricane while completely alone is whole other another story.

My biggest concern was the retention pond behind my house. I had already been watching the flooding left in Ian’s wake, so that was my biggest worry. While we had been feeling the bands for days, Ian was set to actually hit our town sometime during the middle of the night, which meant I wouldn’t be able to watch the pond level. When the last light of day dissipated, the pond was about four feet from my property line, and we were forecast to get another 8 – 10 inches of rain.

To say I didn’t sleep, would be an understatement. While the sound of the wind was quite loud, it was actually the worry over the pond that kept me awake. I was up every few minutes to check and see if there was water coming up on the porch. (I couldn’t see any farther in the dark.) I texted friends (who were also wide awake) and watched weather channel like a fiend… I should also confess that the whole time, I kept talking to Bruce and telling him that this was his wish – not mine. (LOL)

(Sigh of relief!) While it took about two days for Ian to pass, in the end, though, all was well here – the pond held, my house is fine, and I only lost a few plants… Not too bad at all!

The biggest thing for me, though is that fact that I did it… and I did it alone! As a widow, I can tell you that things like this are a big deal! Most people I know have families or roommates, so they don’t have to do things like this all alone… And honestly, I would have never thought I could have done this alone, (nor would I have tried to do it alone on purpose).

But I did! And I’m not going to lie, I’m kind of proud of me… I also sincerely believe that Bruce would be impressed and proud, too! (As a side note, however, (proud or not) I still wouldn’t do this by myself again, if there is any way to avoid it. Just sayin’! LOL!)
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This journey isn’t easy… not that you need me to tell you that. Loss can be traumatic, and the grief and life we are left to figure out is hard. Thankfully, though, there are moments and actions we can take to refresh our souls. There are also challenges where we learn that we are stronger than we think we are… Both of these provide moments where I learn a little bit more about faith, life, and love.

Peace, Love, and Grief… Going Home

Due to several factors (mostly Covid), it’s been several years since I have been back to Bruce’s hometown in Michigan, and three years since I have been able to see and hug his parents. It has felt like forever! But last weekend, I boarded a plane and did just that.

I love that town. (Well, I love it when it isn’t freezing cold and snowing – lol!) It was where we were married and where we had our first home together. There are so many precious memories there… Even now, I am tearing up just thinking about it all. I went this last week because we were celebrating his Dad’s 90th birthday.

Years ago, Bruce was able to go celebrate his 80th birthday, but I had to miss it due to work. None of us had any idea Bruce would be gone a few short months later. So this year, I was determined to be there for his 90th. For weeks, I have been so excited that things are more “normal”, and I was finally going to be able to go!

As soon as I landed, though, the memories (and the tears) started…

As I was leaving the terminal, my mind at once turned to that first trip to Michigan so many years ago. I was terrified leaving the terminal that day, only to find Bruce’s smiling face waiting for me at the bottom of the walkway… The start of a wonderful adventure filled with love.

Of course, this time there was the hubbub of getting my own luggage and, finally, the rental car. The whole time, all I could think about were all the trips back here after we left and moved to Florida… The two of us waiting in line for a rental car versus just me… alone. Deep breaths and attempts to refocus were the only things to save me from breaking down in tears as I waited my turn.

On my drive to his sister’s house, (where I stayed), everything was extremely familiar, despite the many years since I had been there – streets and exits, restaurants and shops… all the places we used to go… and the avalanche of memories that wouldn’t stop. I think I cried for the first ten miles or so. At that point, though, I knew I had to make myself stop. I was not about to spend an entire week crying everywhere I went. I needed to focus on the “happy” of what had been – not the sadness of what is gone.

The week was wonderful! I immediately fell right into the rhythm of his family from the moment I stepped across the threshold. The first night there was a wonderful celebration of Dad’s 90th with all of his family and friends. Yet, for me, the best part came at the end when we were all sitting around the firepit and Dad entertained us with stories and songs… That man can tell the best stories!! And his love for his family shines through in all of it.

The only thing missing that night was Bruce… We all knew it… Still… in my heart, I believe he was there too – smiling and laughing right along with the rest of us!

On another day, we went out to the lake and had lunch near the marina where Bruce and I used to keep our sailboat. Oh my gosh!! All the memories!! The bait shop where we always stopped for beer… the summer nights sleeping in the small cabin on the boat… the sadness of putting the boat in storage for the winter and the excitement of pulling it out in the summer… and the beachside bar where we often stopped for lunch.

I remembered the place immediately… One of the first times out on the boat, Bruce had anchored offshore with the intention of us swimming/walking to shore for lunch. But… I am a southern girl through and through, and even in the middle of summer, Michigan waters are too cold for this girl. So, that dear man let me ride to shore on his shoulders with only my toes touching the water. I still laugh every time I think about how I convinced him to let me ride and stay warm vs swimming and getting cold.

The following day, I was able to have lunch with Bruce’s daughter. I don’t get to see her often, since she has little ones of her own, but our time together was absolutely precious to me. So many stories shared… so many questions answered… and still so much more I want to share with her. I really wish Bruce could have been there… I am sure she wished the same. Yet, the two of us will always have a connection because of him, and I will treasure that for as along as life allows.

The best part of the whole week? Honestly, it was simply the continuous time spent with family… the people who knew and loved Bruce too… the people who miss him like I do… the people who don’t think I should be “over it” and who understand when I shed a tear here and there… the people who accept me as family, too.

I remember when Bruce died, I was terrified I would lose these wonderful people in my life. Everything I read at the time said to expect his family to gradually pull away until one day I would realize they were no longer there. However, that has never happened. Instead, here we are, almost 10 years later, and we are closer than ever. I am so blessed, and I love them to the moon and back… To my mind, they are another precious gift from the man who was my hero… the man who loved me… the man who gave me so many precious memories to lean on until I see him again.
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This journey isn’t easy… not that you need me to tell you that. Loss can be traumatic, and the grief and life we are left to figure out is hard. Thankfully, though, there are moments and actions we can take to refresh our souls… places we can go to and find comfort… moments where we learn a little bit more about faith, life, and love.

Thankfully, as the years pass, I can honestly say that there are more of these good moments than bad. Each day, I continue to learn more and more about those things that seem to help me heal and move forward – like sharing precious memories with you. So, I will continue to allow myself the space I need to heal and process this life without my love… without Bruce. Thankfully, at this point in my journey, I am learning that I am not alone – thanks to each of you!

Peace, Love, and Grief… Changes in Grief and Mourning

Grief and mourning… Years ago, I would have told you these two words were synonymous, but I would have been wrong. After spending time on my own grief journey, I would now say that grief is the emotion and mourning is how that grief is expressed.

I still grieve for Bruce, but I can’t say I still actively mourn his death. Sure, there are still tears at times, (when I am alone), and this blog is definitely a way of expressing my grief. However, I’m not actively mourning 24/7. Most people I meet have no idea I am a widow or who Bruce is. (That usually comes up later, IF we become friends.)

In the beginning, I did all the things… For example, I wore black for the first 6 months. (That is until I realized the color was no longer an expression of my feelings but instead was affecting my feelings.) I cried… a lot. (In fact, I wore sunglasses indoors as much as out because I didn’t want people to see my constant tears.) I even skipped the holidays that first year, because I couldn’t bear the thought of celebrating anything without Bruce here to celebrate too.

While I thought my life had ended when Bruce’s did, what I soon learned was that loss was not the end of the story. Instead, it was simply the start of another one. For me, loss became that thing that divided my life in half – everything before the loss vs everything that came after. There was the “before” me that was too naïve to realize how much this loss would take from me vs the “after” me that now lives completely aware of how painful tragedy can be and how precious every moment truly is with those we love.

I guess what I am saying is that the loss of Bruce changed me… the grief… the mourning… all of that quickly became a part of who I am. In the beginning, those changes brought me down… My mourning was deep, and it was physical. There was no way to spend any amount of time with me and not know I was grieving.

I was so angry and emotional all the time. There seemed to be triggers all around me that could set me off on a crying jaunt at any moment… Everything seemed to make me cry, and the pain felt never-ending.

“It <was> so dang unfair. Even worse, it <was> so dang unchangeable… But the griever knows they can’t go back in time. So, healing feels impossible, because circumstances feel unchangeable.” ~ Lysa Terkeurst, Forgiving What You Can’t Forget

I stayed in that mode for a long time. It seemed to seep into every part of my world, and the craziest part is that I had no idea how to change that or if I even wanted to change that. It almost felt like a betrayal to Bruce to feel any other way.

But thankfully, life didn’t give up on me, (and neither did the people who love me).

Years have passed, and I still grieve the loss of my husband. However, I can also say that I am slowly working to express that grief… to mourn, if you will, in a more productive way. I am trying to take the lessons learned by his loss, and use them to make my life going forward, a better one.

For example, one of the greatest lessons I learned when I lost Bruce is just exactly how precious life is. Our time with our loved ones is measured. It will not last forever. At first, this reality found me pulling back. After all, if I wasn’t too close to anyone, it wouldn’t hurt nearly so bad when they were gone. But that was not sustainable – not for me, anyway. I love who I love… I want to love who I love. In fact, I want to soak in as much love as I possibly can… while I can.

That reality led me to start one-on-one trips with each of my kids this year. Yes, they are adults. Yes, they have lives and families of their own. Yet… they will always be my kids, and I know our time together will not always be. This newest tradition allows me to get to know them better, especially now that they are adults. It allows us to reconnect without the responsibilities of family and home. We have been able to simply have fun and laugh, as well as, have late night heart-to-heart conversations – tears and all. (This has been life changing for me, and I wish I had started doing this sooner!)

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I know I am still grieving. My hope, though, is that my mourning… my expression of that grief is becoming something more positive… I want to think that now it is something that just might put a little bit more love back into this world, despite my initial grief making me feel like all of the love was gone. I hope that now it is something that involves more smiles than tears… Something that builds up and brings hope… Something that Bruce would even be proud of, too….
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This journey isn’t easy… not that you need me to tell you that. Loss can be traumatic, and the grief and life we are left to figure out is hard. Thankfully, though, there are moments and actions we can take to refresh our souls – Moments where I learn a little bit more about faith, life, and love.

Thankfully, as the years pass, I can honestly say that there are more of these good moments than bad. Each day, I continue to learn more and more about those things that seem to help me heal and move forward – like sharing precious memories. So, I will continue to allow myself the space I need to heal and process this life without my love… without Bruce. Thankfully, at this point in my journey, I am learning that I am not alone – thanks to you!

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Peace, Love, and Grief… On Sleep

I loved Bruce. I still love Bruce… which means there are a lot of things I miss about Bruce. Our relationship was wonderful – a true partnership. There were things he took care of and things I took care of. There were things he did, and things I did. It was never a discussion. We never sat down and decided on who would do what; things just seemed to fall into place organically. In other words, we had developed a rhythm to our lives that worked for us… That made us comfortable. When he died, it took a while for it to sink in that all those things he used to do, were now up to me.

Most of those things were simple enough to take on like taking out the trash or picking up the mail each day. Somehow those were some of the things he always did. I never really gave it a second thought. In fact, when he died, the mail probably sat there for over a week before it dawned on me to go get it. Other things were more involved (and completely stressed me out), like fixing a broken dishwasher or doing the taxes. (Those are not my gifts. So, now, I hire someone to do those things.)

But… there are other things that can’t be picked up or replaced so easily, such as his presence. I miss that. I miss sitting and doing nothing together. I miss riding in the car and having him reach over to hold my hand… And I really miss snuggling with him in the bed at night.

I have always been a hugger, but I don’t know when I became such a snuggler in the bed. I wasn’t a snuggler as a child; I slept in my own room and my own bed – alone. I wasn’t a snuggler in my first marriage. In fact, my first husband was gone for more than half of our marriage due to military service, (which given the circumstances was okay with me).

But with Bruce, it was different… From the very beginning, we had a bedtime routine that included me sleeping in his arms with my head on his chest. In fact, I didn’t use a pillow the whole time we were married. I didn’t need one… I had Bruce.

(You probably know now where this is headed.) Yep… Since he died, sleep is a real struggle for me…

That first week, I was in shock, so I can’t say if I actually slept. However, I do remember my dear, sweet sister, laying in the bed with me and holding my hand while I tried. Then, for the first few years, I found myself waking up almost every night at the same hour as the night he died… Like clockwork, no matter what time I went to bed, I would find myself wide awake at 1:15 am… remembering… reliving… crying.

Through the years, I have tried all kinds of things to help me sleep – meditation, white noise, meds, new mattresses, an assortment of pillows. You name, I have probably tried it. Shoot, I even tried laying a body pillow in the bed next to me, just to see if my “half asleep self” could be fooled into thinking it was Bruce laying there and (hopefully) go back to sleep.

Nothing has really worked, though. Even now, all these years later, I still struggle with sleeping alone. I miss falling asleep in his arms. I miss having his arms pull me in tighter when a nightmare wakes me up. I miss me laying under several blankets, while he slept with a fan blowing directly on him, because our body temperatures were so mismatched. I miss laying in the dark and talking about our future together. I miss waking up and smiling as I watched him sleep or finding him smiling as he watched me sleep.

I miss all of that.

I don’t know that I will ever get used to going to bed alone, sleeping alone, or waking up alone. I think this may just be one of those things that never really becomes “normal” for me on this journey. The closest I seem to be able to get is sleeping in his old t-shirts… It is kind of like having him hold me through the night (but not quite). At the same time, though, I do believe that one day we will be together again… and at that time, I will never, ever sleep alone again.
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This journey isn’t easy… not that you need me to tell you that. Loss can be traumatic, and the grief and life we are left to figure out is hard. Thankfully, though, there are moments and actions we can take to refresh our souls – Moments where I learn a little bit more about faith, life, and love.

Thankfully, as the years pass, I can honestly say that there are more of these good moments than bad. Each day, I continue to learn more and more about those things that seem to help me heal and move forward – like sharing precious memories. So, I will continue to allow myself the space I need to heal and process this life without my love… without Bruce. Thankfully, at this point in my journey, I am learning that I am not alone – thanks to you!