mourn – Page 11 – Peace, Love & Grief

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!

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.

Please do… 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… 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!

Please do… 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

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!

Peace, Love, and Grief… Working on Grief

Sometimes loss happens slowly over time… usually due to some type of health decline. I have watched friends and family go through this type of loss, and I can’t imagine how hard that is. I have watched people I love grieve this type of loss twice – once before the loss (either in anticipation of what lies ahead or because they are slowly losing the person they knew or both). Then, sadly, the grief continues after the loss. The whole thing seems incredibly hard (and totally unfair).

For others, like myself, loss happens quickly. Bruce’s death was completely unexpected… We went to bed laughing and snuggling, but he never woke up… And my world was shattered. In fact, the shock was so great, it took me over a year just to truly believe that this wasn’t simply some awful nightmare. For the longest time, I continued to listen for his car turning into driveway or to look forward to his smile at the end of a rough day.

One thing I have learned, though, is that no matter how sudden or slow the loss occurs, the grief that follows cannot be ignored. Even if you try, at some point, that grief will bubble to the surface and demand to be dealt with. I am a “list” person, so in the beginning, I went hunting for a list of things to do to work through my grief. I just wanted to know what to do so that once the list was completed, I would feel better, the grief would gone, and I could get on with my life. (Silly, I know, but that was how I thought it would work.)

I will say I found a whole book of suggested actions to take that really were helpful in working through my grief. However, it still wasn’t like the checklist I had hoped for. Instead, I found that grief is one of those things that must be worked on and worked out daily… for as long as it takes – which is different for every person and every loss… And the other kicker – All of this work really must be done in your “ordinary” life. The problem is… it can take weeks or months for your life to resemble any definition of “ordinary”, (which may require more than a little bit of patience with yourself).

I remember when Bruce died, everyone came – his family… my family… friends… co-workers. Granted, after a few weeks, most of these people had to go back home. At the same time, there continued to be a never-ending stream of flowers, cards, phone calls, messages, and visitors that went on for weeks and months… This was not even close to an “ordinary” life. Also… while I was grieving during this time, I couldn’t really work on it. I was in too much shock and there was too much going on for me to figure out how this new feeling of complete loss was going to fit into my life.

For the next several months, I focused my energy on planning his memorial service. (This I had postponed until his ashes were returned to me and our families were able to come back.) Again – this was not even close to an “ordinary” life.

After that there was also the “business” side of loss – insurance, probate, redoing names on various accounts, and all of the other (unending) paperwork that had to be completed. Once again… nothing ordinary in any of these things.

However… there does finally reach a point where “your people” have gone back to their lives (believing you are doing “okay”), there are no more ceremonies, and all of the business is completed… This is when things get quiet… It gets real quiet… And while grief is hard from the beginning, this is when the grief gets harder. Why? Because with this overwhelming silence comes the feeling that this grief is going to literally devour you… This is where I knew I would have to find a way to face it (and work on it), if for no other reason than simple survival.

Also, about this time, I started hearing the term “new normal”. Oh my! How I hated that term. This life was not normal, nor did I want it to be. For me, that phrase seemed to imply something positive or exciting – like a new adventure… This new life was far from that.

It was also at this point that I constantly found myself wandering through our home looking for… what? Bruce? I don’t know. Other times, I could be found sitting in the middle of the living room sobbing and yelling at God… Or maybe just sitting on the couch in total silence – staring at the wall for hours.

Then, I found that list I wrote about earlier… True, it wasn’t the checklist I thought it would be. However, it was a great way to start taking the some of that energy from my grief and refocusing it in more positive, healthy ways. When that list was completed, and my grief was still there… still strong… still crushing, I knew that this journey was going to require more of me… It was going to be a day-by-day challenge with some days being more successful than others.

And that is where I am… Still working on this grief thing one day at a time.

While my grief no longer controls every waking moment, I still wake up each morning and am reminded that I am alone. At that point, I must make a choice as to what kind of day it is going to be… Will it be a day of grieving all day or will it be a day where I can say, “I love you, Babe… I still miss you,” blow him a kiss, and then smile as I move through my day.

I must say that some days that choice is easier than other days… Yet, to my way of thinking, that’s okay too. I am moving forward and that is my goal.
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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 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!

Peace, Love, and Grief… Finding Hope in a Season of Grief – Part 2

(Continued from last week)

As I wrote last week, the years passed and life went on, but my faith was struggling.

Bruce was beyond supportive. He knew I needed to fill this part of my life. Together, we went from church to church trying to find a place where we might fit in… but I was scared. I wanted “more”, but I didn’t feel welcome to experience “more”. He was encouraging, but not pushy. I, on the other hand, held back… My trust in the church – any church – was gone.

Then, just 2 months prior to Bruce’s death, my faith finally came crashing down around me. Little did I know what was ahead of me and how impossibly hard it would be to grieve when I had no faith… and no hope.

You see, I had (finally) found what I thought could be my new “church home”. I can remember sitting in this small Episcopal church (a denomination, I thought would be a little more understanding about divorce). I had been attending for several months and was starting to feel like I just might actually fit in there.

That particular week, the pastor started a homily on the “evils of divorce”. I was a little bit wary at first but thought that he would give a caveat about abuse being a reason to leave. As the minutes passed, I remember crying and thinking, “He isn’t addressing abuse… Life choices aren’t always that simple.” Then he said, “Divorce is never okay, even if there is abuse.” I was completely stunned. I wasn’t welcome, after all… I never would be… And so, I left… I literally got up in the middle of the service and quietly walked out. All I knew was I couldn’t do it anymore… My heart couldn’t take it any more.

I think I must have cried for a week straight. (I know I cried so much I gave myself two black eyes.) At that point, I didn’t know what I was going to do. I had lost my faith… It was gone… (or so I thought). Then, two months later, Bruce died. With no faith to fall back on, I lost all hope. Losing my faith and my love so close together had taken away my hope… And I had no idea how to get it back.

Time, although I couldn’t see it then, became my friend and the key I needed. Slowly… very slowly… I started to deconstruct, then reconstruct my faith…. And I learned quite quickly that my struggle wasn’t with God. My struggle was how God was being interpreted and presented.

First, I went back to the basic concepts I knew I believed without a doubt. Granted, it took me a while to strip away the dogma and other people’s interpretations, and finally figure out for myself what I believe… rather than what someone else was telling me to believe… To come to an understanding of my faith vs someone else’s faith.

I have to be honest; this was all possible because of Bruce and the legacy he left behind… a faith that he lived but never preached.

I started by reading the books he had read and listening to the speakers he had favored. Over time, I have found new authors and speakers and entire communities that share my quest for a faith that is built on a God that can’t be defined or put in a nice, neat box. A faith that is that is as individual as each one of us.
Even today, I am still working to reassemble a faith that is mine… a faith that is as genuine as Bruce’s was. However, by doing this… by working hard to understand what I believe, hope is also returning to my world.

My faith is noticeably different from what it was, but I can say without hesitation that it is mine… And the hope that I now feel is different too. It is less naïve and much more grounded. It isn’t based on miracles or punishments. It is not based on whether or not I am considered “worthy” or “good enough”. Instead, it is based on a loving relationship… It is filled with a hope that things can be better, but not that they necessarily will be… nor do they have to be for this hope to keep going.

Instead, this faith has given me true hope that continues to carry me through this season of grief.
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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 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.

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!

Peace, Love, and Grief… Finding Hope in a Season of Grief – Part 1

This week, one of my journal prompts was: “Have you walked through a season of grief? How did you maintain hope?”

Pardon me while I shake my head (just a little). You see… I’m not sure I did. If I am honest, I would have to say that when Bruce died, I lost all hope for a very, long time. Finding my way back to having even a little bit of hope has been quite the uphill journey.

Before we get there, though, let’s back up… Let’s back way up…

From the moment I was born, I was raised in the church, so my faith was always important to me. It was a big part of who I thought I was. I have always sang in the choir, and attended retreats, Sunday School, and Bible studies. As I grew older, I also cantored at mass. I taught children’s choir, Vacation Bible School, and Sunday School. I even taught at the school. I helped with the flowers for Holy Days, and worked at all of the fairs and carnivals. And, (of course), I raised my children the same way within the church.

In other words, I did all the things. If the doors were open, the kids and I were there. Even through the worst, chaotic, violent days of my first marriage, we were there. I remember back then – I kept believing that if I could just “be better” … If I could just muster a little more faith… then maybe, just maybe, God would help me.

Eventually, though, I reached the point where I knew I just couldn’t do it anymore. I wasn’t “enough”, and I never would be… Would I really go to hell if I left? Did it matter? After all, I was living in hell… And worst of all, because I was there, my kids were too.

One afternoon, I found myself pouring out the details of my life to our parish priest. However, before I could even finish, he told me that he already knew the trouble our family was in, and he advised me to leave. He told me that I would have the support of the church… So, I did… I left.

It took years to finalize everything. Those were scary, turbulent times with some of the hardest situations I have ever endured… Still… I did it! I made it out with my kids by my side! The future finally looked bright. It held so much hope.

Wouldn’t you know it, though? Before I hardly had time to take a breath, my world took another tumble. I can’t really remember which happened first, because in my memory it all happened simultaneously…

In a timespan that felt like overnight, I lost everything I owned. I had invested my money from the divorce with a “family friend.” (That person is currently serving time in a federal prison for securities fraud and running a Ponzi scheme.) Yep! That’s where my money went… Every dime.

At about the same time, I lost my job…

I had met Bruce and started the drudgery of getting an annulment. The problem? It required a ton of paperwork. AND… each time I turned in said paperwork, I had to pay thousands of dollars to “move to the next step”. But suddenly, I didn’t have any more money, and I had to drop it… That was the reality.

Before too long, I was told that “some people” were concerned about having a divorced (and dating) person on the staff. I was supposed to be a role model, after all. Before long, I was given a choice to leave Bruce or my job… (Well, we all know how that choice went, and I don’t regret it for a moment!)

How about that support I had been promised? It was a nice idea in theory, but it didn’t really exist. Instead, I was left confused and devastated. I think this was one of the first times I had my eyes opened to the “them vs us” clique mentality so rampant within the church. (A space that I was taught was supposed to be inclusive was actually extremely exclusive.)

What I came to realize was that to really belong, one must do as they are told – no space for questions or different opinions, thoughts, and ideas. Please understand this was not everyone. I had wonderful, dear friends to lean on, and I don’t want to sound bitter… My point, though, is how traumatic and gut-wrenching the whole set of circumstances were.

But God can make good out bad, and a few months later, my world blossomed!

Bruce and I were married… I found a new job in a new state… And… I found a new church. This time, though, it was different. For the first time ever, I simply sat in the back row and kept to myself. I desperately wanted to be there… I needed to be there… At the same time, I couldn’t risk being shunned again.

The years passed, and life went on. My faith was struggling. Bruce, however, was beyond supportive. He knew I needed to fill this part of my life. So, together, we went from church to church trying to find a place where we might fit in… but I was scared. I wanted “more”, but I didn’t feel welcome to experience “more”. Bruce was encouraging… but not pushy. I, on the other hand, held back… My trust in the church – any church – was gone.

Then, just two months prior to Bruce’s death, my faith finally came crashing down around me. Little did I know what was ahead of me and how impossibly hard it would be to grieve when I had no faith… and no hope.

(To be continued next week)

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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 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.

Peace, Love, and Grief… A Garden of Grief… or Joy?

One of my favorite things about my home office is looking out the window at my flower garden… It makes me smile, especially when everything is blooming. My garden is filled with all kinds of flowering plants from crepe myrtles and angel trumpets to rain lilies and milkweed, and everything in between…. But my yard didn’t always look like this.

When Bruce and I were first married, we were living up north in a condo. He always had a couple of potted plants on the porch during the summer – tomatoes or okra or some such. He always talked about how he used to have a garden and would love to have a regular garden again one day.

I, on the other hand, had never been much of a “plant person”. I grew up around lots of people with green thumbs, but I just never seemed to have a knack for it. It was hot and dirty… No, thank you.

When we started looking for a house down here in Florida, Bruce was so excited about the idea of having a garden again. I was excited for him, but made it quite clear that the yard was his… He could do with it what he wanted. It just wasn’t my passion at all.

When we finally moved into our home, the garden was put on hold until the following year while Bruce fixed up a few other things that were more pressing. He never gave the idea of a garden though… From the day we moved in, he was planning his garden… He knew what he wanted to plant and where it was going.

He never got the chance, though. Bruce passed away in January, before he ever got the chance to place the first plant in the ground.

That first spring after he died, as the weather started warming up, I started looking at the yard and thinking about all the plans Bruce had made. It didn’t take me long, though, to decide what I was going to do. After all, I needed to do something…

I found a checklist in a book of things to do to help me work through my grief… Things to honor Bruce’s memory… And one of those things was to plant a memorial garden. Shoot, I had a whole yard as an empty canvas… A whole yard that I could dig up and plant… A whole yard to help me burn off this ache in my heart… And so, I started…

All I had was a shovel, a rake, and a hand spade, but that didn’t matter. I started digging… Slowly, I built the beds by digging up the grass and hand-turning the dirt. I sifted out the stones and rocks and carefully placed the earthworms back into the freshly turned soil. It took hours on hours, weeks on weeks, and months on months.

Even the neighborhood kids came and lent a hand on occasion. With the normal curiosity of children, they would ask about Bruce. I didn’t mind, though. It gave me a reason to talk about him… and smile.

It took well over a year to get things to a “basic level of done”, but as any gardener will tell you, no garden is ever really “done”. Over the years, I have added, moved, or gotten rid of plants here or there but that same basic garden is still there… smiling back at me.

Most of the plants have some type of connection to Bruce or our family. For example, I have a couple of shrimp plants since he loved shrimp. I also have five angel trumpets – one for each of my children. Oh, and the muscadine grapes because it smells like my grandmother’s back yard used to smell. I don’t want to bore you by explaining each and every plant’s meaning to me, but you get the idea. Each plant is personal to me… each one means something to me so that when I look at them or touch them, I smile.

It’s odd, but as much as I thought I hated yard work, this labor of love changed all that. I found myself spending hours in the yard every single weekend… Until I couldn’t. The year I spent fighting cancer, I had to hire someone to take care of the yard. As I have moved into the recovery stage, I’ve been able to work in the yard a little bit here and there, but I still can’t do it for hours. I wish I could, though… I actually miss it.

Today was sad, though. I came home to find most of my rain lilies pulled out. Someone, who meant well, thought it would “look better” and removed them. “It’s just lilies,” they said when they saw my tears. I know that. (I really do.) They kept saying it isn’t a big deal… But that’s just it. It is a big deal… to me. The rain lilies, I think, are some of my favorites. You see, they bloom after the rain… kind of like me learning to smile again after all the grief… Like I said, each plant is personal to me. **

I know the day will come when I no longer live here. I am sure someone else will come along and remove and replant and redo each and every garden bed. (And they should.) But for right now, this garden reminds me that I can do this. I can keep moving forward. This idea from a book that started as a “grief garden”… as a memorial to Bruce… has become a source of joy for me. I love sitting on the porch or looking out the windows and simply feeling joy. I love this space that can make me smile simply by existing… and that’s pretty special.

** For the record, this is all being made right… an honest mistake made with the best of intentions.
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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 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.

Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

Peace, Love, and Grief… Loneliness

I hope you don’t judge me, since my goal is moving forward not back… Yet, this week started off really rough! I was completely down on myself. I don’t know why (or how) I managed to let myself get so far down the rabbit hole. At the same time, I know it’s normal… We all do sometimes.

I think the hard part (for me, anyway) is not having anyone here with me… more specifically – Bruce! For as long as I can remember, I have struggled with my own self-worth… I think that comes from several places in my life. The exact sources aren’t really important to list here, but it was a constant message of “not being enough”.

Bruce, however, was my hero, though! He always made me feel like I was “enough”… Maybe even more than enough. Whenever I had doubts, without exception, I was comfortable enough to reach out to him. It makes me smile when I think about the times, I would come to him with tears in my heart (and eyes), and he would simply take me in his arms to hold me for as long as I needed. So many times, not a word was spoken between us, until he would kiss me and tell me that he loved me.

I think maybe one of the most challenging (and crumbling) parts of this journey is the loneliness. It’s crazy how it creeps in without me really noticing until I am deep down in the rabbit hole. Then suddenly, things start to fall apart, and I find myself feeling as if I have no one to really turn to. Granted, I know that isn’t really true, I have wonderful people in my life. (However, when you are in so deep, that is hard to remember.)

The problem is when I get to this point – the point of utter defeat and desperation – I can’t reach out. I somehow convince myself that this is too much to dump on someone else. Or (even worse), I also tend to convince myself that I am a bother, and no one would care anyway. Plus, who needs more rejection? (Ridiculous, I know, but it is where my mind goes.)

(sigh) Loneliness is a horrible, misguided companion!

I heard a quote this week from Fr. Richard Rohr that seems apropos, “Suffering follows any great commitment of love.” Boy, did that hit home… The grief and pain from losing Bruce (even nine years later) can still be a struggle for me.

Sometimes, there are triggers that send me reeling. However, like this week, there was no trigger… It was simply the loneliness of missing him in particular… of no longer having that person in my life who “gets” me totally and completely… who can take one look at me and know what I am feeling or thinking… that person who know me inside and out – the good and the bad – and still loves me anyway. For me, that person was Bruce… And, God knows, I miss that… I miss him!

Some weeks are better than others… Some are harder. This week, though, I would have given anything to have had that… HIM back in my world.
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This journey isn’t easy… not that you need me to tell you that. Loss is hard, and the grief we are left to figure out is even harder. Thankfully, though, there are moments where our souls can be refreshed – Moments where I learn a little bit more about life, faith, and love.

Peace, Love, and Grief… I Speak Your Name

“So long as they speak your name, you shall never die.” ~ Dan Brown

If you were paying attention, you may have noticed there was no blog from me last week. Instead, I was at the beach with Bruce’s sisters. It was our annual trip – a tradition started years ago… before I ever even came into the picture. However, once I was in the picture (and ever since), I have been included.

The first year, I was quite apprehensive about going. My previous in-laws made no bones about how they felt about me from the very beginning. Suffice it to say, I was always the outsider. So, the idea of spending a week with new sisters whom I barely knew scared me to death.

In fact, it’s funny now, but that first year, I was so scared that Bruce ended up flying into the same town too, and stayed at a hotel across town, just in case. He knew I wouldn’t need him, but I didn’t. All I knew was that I was so apprehensive about the whole thing, I needed that added security of a “just in case”. (He teased me about it for years, but I didn’t mind. His willingness to be my “just in case” only made me love him that much more.)

Times have changed, though. Now (for me, at least), this annual trip is a chance to spend some very special time with the family he grew up in. It is very much a safe place where I am not an outsider. Instead, I am family (and all that entails). From my perspective, one of the best parts of the week is that his name comes up in conversation a lot… and not just from me. His sisters talk about him as much as I do. I think we all need it… After all, they shared a life with him, too… They have so many memories with him growing up and throughout their adulthood.

It is so nice to know I can talk (and/or cry) about anything “Bruce” without worrying about being a “Debbie-downer” or ruining someone else’s day or vacation. I love it!

They have stories about the Bruce they grew up with – the boy, the teenager, the young adult, the brand-new dad… All the things that were pre-me. It is a side of Bruce I never knew, but each year I get to know that part of him a little bit better. In return, I get to share stories of our quiet conversations, a great husband, an adventurer, and so many other parts of him that they never had the chance to know.

And all of that is important…

Years ago, when I started this blog, one of the things I kept saying was, “As long as there is a breath left in my body, I will speak your name… I won’t let you be forgotten.” … That is still true… And a whole week of sharing Bruce-isms and memories has made my heart sing…

I love you, Babe… And I promise, I will always speak your name – not just because I won’t forget you, but because I can’t forget you.
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This journey isn’t easy… not that you need me to tell you that. Loss is hard, and the grief we are left to figure out is even harder. Thankfully, though, there are moments where our souls can be refreshed – Moments where I learn a little bit more about life, faith, and love.

Peace, Love, and Grief… Looking for a Reason

Several weeks ago, my friends and I were chatting about a news article… (a pretty normal occurrence). While I don’t remember the specific details of the article, I do remember that a man had died (much too young) and (without knowing the exact cause of death) his spouse had started suing multiple people – just looking for someone… anyone to blame. At first the conversation was all about “what is she thinking”… “She doesn’t even know why he died yet.”

While that might be true, I still felt like I knew exactly what she was thinking… or at least pretty close… because I remember being in those shoes…

To say it was a shock when Bruce died would be an understatement. He was such a health-conscious person. He (for the most part) watched what he ate. He worked out regularly at the local gym. He was always researching supplements and vitamins – and trying those that seemed like they might improve his health in some way. He had a yearly physical on top of the ones required by his job.

In other words, he really did look after his health… He even inspired me to do a better job of being healthy.

In the weeks before he died, we had been out biking on the trails and kayaking in the canals and creeks. In the hours before he died, we had had a lengthy discussion about what we wanted to do that weekend… with kayaking the clear favorite endeavor. We snuggled in the bed that night as we fell asleep… All felt right in my world… I was so happy… So content… To think that he would be dead in less than six hours never crossed my mind… but that is exactly what happened.

After he died, I was absolutely drowning in questions. I didn’t understand. I was truly confused. How does this happen? Did someone miss something somewhere? I didn’t get it… It made no sense to me. The hospital told me that it appeared he had a heart attack, but that the medical examiner would do an autopsy and have a better (more clear) answer… It would only take “2 – 3 weeks” both the hospital and funeral director told me.

So, I waited… and I waited. I just wanted an answer… I needed an answer. Why in the world had my seemingly healthy, 52-year-old husband died?

At four weeks, I called… “They are running a little behind,” I was told, “four more weeks at most.” Then, you guessed it, four more weeks… and four more. Yep… it took four months to get our answer… Four excruciating months of not know… not understanding.

During those long months, (years before this blog was started), I would post comments on social media about my frustration at waiting so long and my desperate need for an answer. We all know how that goes, right? Some people offer empathy, others offer advice. There was a lot of compassion, and those people will never know how much that meant to me.

I also remember others telling me to let it go… why did it matter?… how was knowing going to change the ultimate outcome?… and that list of questions went on and on. I am sure that there are people for whom that would be good advice. However, for me, it was just a clue that I couldn’t talk about my grief and anxiety with those people… They are wonderful people, and I know they meant well. Nevertheless, that was not the “advice” I needed at that point.

What I did need was an answer… any answer. And if I am honest, I too wanted to blame somebody… anybody. Surely, a healthy man doesn’t just die in the middle of the night for no reason!

At four months… the evening before his memorial, we finally got an answer. Bruce had some heart issues that had either gone undetected or (as much as I don’t want to admit it) he had ignored. I will never know for sure.

Yet, I do know I am not the only one who still has questions… A couple of years ago, Bruce’s mother requested (and received) a full copy of the ME’s report, and kindly shared it with me. I have spent many hours over the last few years going over it and researching every term to better understand what happened to Bruce.

I don’t know what he knew or what choices (if any) he made. After he died, I found all the paperwork I would need to “legally process” his death in a stack on the counter… Which leads me to believe, he knew something was wrong.

I, also, can’t blame anyone else for decisions or choices he might have made. At the same time, I can’t be mad at him, either. Ultimately, the Medical Examiner told me that the only thing that would have saved Bruce’s life was a heart transplant (before this episode that killed him). Knowing Bruce, I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew that and made the choice not to do it… Obviously, though, I don’t know anything for sure. In fact, I’ll never know… and I have to learn to be okay with that.

I have to be okay with not having anyone to blame, and instead learning to accept his death as a part of his life… a life I was miraculously blessed to be a part of…
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This journey isn’t easy… not that you need me to tell you that. Loss is hard, and the grief we are left to figure out is even harder. This crazy journey is where I am continuously learning about life, faith, and love. And while there have been some great life lessons on this journey, I hate that losing Bruce is how I got here. I didn’t ask to be here, and I don’t want to be here… But I am here anyway.

As the years pass, I can honestly say that there are more good days than bad. Each day, I continue to learn more and more about those things that seem to help me heal and move forward. 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!