grieve – Page 12 – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love, and Grief… Father’s Day Without You

This morning I saw a friend’s post on Face Book about how today is even harder for those who are no longer able to wish their dad a Happy Father’s Day… How today is one giant reminder of all they have lost and will never have again… And my heart broke… For my friend and for all those in her shoes. Then, it dawned on me that after all these years without Bruce, I have never really thought about how today must affect the “kids” in Bruce’s life who saw him as “Dad” – not just his biological daughter, but my own kids, as well.

I know that must sound selfish on my part… I know they miss him. I know there are moments in their lives when they would give anything for him to still be here… to still be a part of their world. But to my discredit, I never really thought about how Father’s Day might affect them.

So, here I am planning out my day and deciding when the best time will be to call my dad and Bruce’s dad. At the same time, these kids that he and I love aren’t planning to call anyone, because the man they thought of “Father” is no longer here. And my heart breaks from them… and for him…

Hey Babe,
Happy Father’s Day!… Boy, do I wish you were here to actually hear those words. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I wish you were here for all of our kids… These five wonderful adults who were lucky enough to have you as their Dad… I would give anything for each of them to have the opportunity to hug and thank you for all you added to their world.

As the mother of four of these (now adult) children, I can’t thank you enough for what you added to their lives. Coming from a chaotic background where their biological father had his parental rights removed, my kids found, in you, a man who offered nothing but love… pure, unconditional love. What an amazing and precious gift!

At first you were just “mom’s boyfriend” … They were happy as long as I was happy. Then, you became my husband, and there was a small shift. They weren’t quite sure what to do with you… or where you belonged in their world. Yet, you made it simple, and took the lead by simply letting them be… and loving them for whatever that was. There were even times when they would challenge you, just to see how real that love was… Yet, you held strong. You never wavered. You never showed anything less than love and respect for all of them.

Then, after only a few short months, you became that person they trusted… that person they went to for advice. Even now, years later, they occasionally tell stories of going to you and how you always responded by guiding them – never telling them what to do. You never demanded that they listen to you or do as you said. You simply offered advice (when asked) and gave them the respect to make their own decisions.

You showed them how to be a man who loves his family above all else. You showed them what a healthy, loving father looks like. In such a short time, you filled a gap that none of us even realized needed to be filled… And once it was full, there was no going back. There was no way to stop loving you… And while they still called you by your name, they introduced and referred to you as their “Dad”… Because you were… and are… and always will be their “Dad” – the man who loved them during those tough years when they weren’t even sure how to love themselves.

I can never thank you enough for that. That was a void I could not fill. I could love them as their mother, but I couldn’t love them as a father… But you did… without any hesitation… You made it look easy as you stepped up and did what no one else could…

Thank you, Babe! Thank you for loving ALL of us! … And Happy Father’s Day!

I love you… forever and always!

———-

I say it every week… Loss is hard, and the grief we are left to figure out is even harder. But this is a journey where I am continuously learning about life, faith, and love. There have been some great life lessons on this journey, but I hate that losing Bruce is how I got here. After all, I didn’t ask to be here… I didn’t ask for any of this. As the years pass, I can honestly say that there are more good days than bad as I learn those things that seem to bring me a little bit of healing each day. Through it all, though, I still find myself wishing for a world where Bruce is here beside me. So, I will continue to allow myself the space I need to heal and process this life without him. 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.

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Peace, Love, and Grief… Who is Grieving?

Who is grieving?… I think the better question is “Who isn’t?”

“…There is one sure way to know loss is part of someone’s life – they are breathing.” ~ Lysa Terkeurst, Forgiving What You Can’t Forget

That is so true… Everyone has some kind of loss. How we deal with it, or even if we deal with it, is where we may differ. For some, pushing it down and pretending it doesn’t hurt is the answer. For others, talking or writing about it can help. Still others put their energy into projects or being creative… And the list of how we heal goes on and on… But the lesson I have learned is that there is no one correct way to grieve.

Even when we are grieving the same loss… the same person… our grief will be different. Why? Because, while the person may be the same, their role in our lives is different… Our relationships are different… How this loss changes our day-to-day life is different.

For some, it will change every moment of your life. And yet, for someone else grieving that same person, it may only affect certain days or moments in time. The point is none of it is wrong. No one should be grieving exactly the same because our loss is not the same… and if we try to force someone else to grieve as we grieve, we could end up losing another relationship by the hurt we may create.

However, what I’m not saying is that we need to do our grieving alone… We shouldn’t… Grief seems to always need some kind of acknowledgement… some kind of empathy or compassion from those around us… Those we love… Those who love us… and even those who are also grieving a loss at the same time. There is something validating about knowing we aren’t alone on this journey, even if our paths are slightly different.

In the Jewish community, there is “sitting shiva.” From my understanding, this is a practice where mourners come together to provide spiritual and emotional support for each other. I love that idea… Sometimes there is talking; sometimes there isn’t… and that’s okay. Generally, the platitudes that are often said to a grieving person, such as “they are in a better place” are not said… Instead, this seems to be a space where a person’s grief (however it is expressed) is accepted, rather than people trying to make you “feel better” with empty words. There is an understanding and an acceptance of just how low a loss can take you…

I wish we did more of that for each other… I wish there was more acceptance of grief and the different ways loss affects each of us. I wish so much of our grief wasn’t spent in isolation, but instead was spent processing our loss together…

“We can grieve because we are strangers to human hurt, even if we re strangers by definition.” ~ Lysa Terkeurst, Forgiving What You Can’t Forget

I guess that is why I write this blog each week. It is my attempt to share my experiences in the hopes that maybe even one person might feel a little less alone, and a little more validated or understood… Just a way of softening the sting a little bit… of mixing our views and perspectives… of letting our words “sit shiva” with each other so that in time, we can each find some peace and maybe even hope, once more.

I say it every week… Loss is hard, and the grief we are left to figure out is even harder. But this is a journey where I am continuously learning – mostly about myself… what I think about life, faith, and love. These have all been great life lessons. However, I hate that losing Bruce is how I got here. After all, I didn’t ask to be here… I didn’t ask for any of this. As the years pass, I can honestly say that there are more good days than bad as I learn those things that seem to bring me a little bit of healing each day. Through it all, though, I still find myself wishing for a world where Bruce is here beside me. So, I will continue to allow myself the space I need to heal and process this life without him. Thankfully, at this point in my journey, I am learning that I am not alone – thanks to you!

Peace, Love, and Grief… Is Grief Really a Sin?

Just a few weeks after Bruce died, I started attending a “grief support” group in town. The truth is, though, it wasn’t really a support group. It was really a class (about eight weeks long) that met monthly at a church in town. (Because we should all be over our grief within eight weeks, right?) And while there were some really good pointers about emotions and changes to expect, there was a lot of that particular church’s dogma sprinkled in. For the most part, I ignored the dogma. I say “for the most part” because there were some things that were just plain hurtful, such as not allowing me pray out loud since I wasn’t a member of said church or insisting that their translation or interpretation of a particular verse was the only valid one. (insert many eye rolls here)

Instead, I chose to soak in the all of the other information – the real reason I was there to begin with. Then about week 6 (or so), the big “lesson” was the idea that “grief is a sin”. Period… end of discussion as far as the leader was concerned… but not so much for me. I was angry… really angry. So angry, in fact, I never returned… That was not what I needed. That was not support. The last thing a grieving person needs is guilt about their feelings of loss. That is a kind of crazy I was not interested in at all!

However, that little tidbit of “religious opinion” didn’t stop there. About that same time, while it had only been a couple of months, since Bruce died, I started hearing versions of this same opinion from a (very) few people around me. My response to their callousness depended completely on how I was handling my own grief in that moment. Most of the time, I just chose to separate myself from the situation for a time. (A “relationship vacation” is what I called it.) However, there were a few times where I let my opposing opinion be known with no doubt about what I thought.

So why am bringing this up now, so many years later?

Because it still comes up in my world… and it still hits me wrong and makes me angry. This last week, for example, I was reading a book on forgiveness. Somehow, the author got onto the topic of loss and grief and the emotions involved… Suddenly, there it was again… She went to that place where she stated that grief is a sin.

In her thought process, she said the same things I have been hearing for years… That emotions such as anxiety, worry, grief are all “sin” since they “demonstrate a lack of trust in God’s plan.” Argh!! Seriously?? That is infuriating! Anxiety, worry, and grief (just like joy, happiness, and contentment) are all just a part of our gamut of emotions we have humans… Nothing more… Nothing less.

You see, I believe that when we go around judging someone else’s struggles as a measurement of their faith, we are doing irreputable damage. Those religious “wisdoms” can drive people (people that we supposedly love) to push down their emotions and pretend they aren’t there rather than deal with them. And while I am sure there will be people who disagree with me, I firmly believe that God has never judged me in my grief, even when I was so angry I was shouting, cursing, and shaking my fist heavenward.

After all, God made me human. God gave me all of these emotions. Having those emotions and working through those emotions is called growth… I’m not sure what to called it when you don’t do that, but I can guarantee it isn’t healthy in the long run.

So… Here is my take on the whole thing whenever someone wants to tell me that this grief (and all it encompasses) is a sin… Life isn’t a tidy package all wrapped up with a pretty bow. Even when faith or religion are a part of your life, it’s still not easy or neat and tidy. It is a journey… for all of us.

In fact, the same author I was mentioning earlier even says that “Undealt-with pain and a mind at peace cannot coexist.” * This is exactly what I am saying… All of these emotions, even grief, must be acknowledged and dealt with… They have to be faced head on… And calling them a sin doesn’t promote that healthy healing we need for our self-development.

Besides, “If we have any chance at all of living at peace with others, we’ve got to first live at peace within ourselves.” * And that is exactly what I am working on…

* Lysa Terkeurst, Forgiving What You Can’t Forget

Peace, Love, and Grief… Things Aren’t Always as They Appear

“… We miss a lot when we’re not paying attention. That things aren’t always as they appear to be.” ~ Karen White, The Sound of Glass

Of all the things I have learned since losing Bruce, “being in the moment”… paying attention to what is happening right now has got to be the biggest one. Realizing just how short life can be… just how precious is our time together hit me almost immediately.

For me, losing Bruce so suddenly and with no forewarning, was like a slap in the face that made me realize just how precious our time together with those we love truly is. We were laughing and joking just hours before… We were snuggled up and peacefully sleeping when his world stopped and mine completely changed.

Ever since that day, I have tried (not always successfully) to be in each moment… To really pay attention to what and who is around me… To not waste time on petty differences that won’t matter a week, month, or year from now… To simply soak in every moment just in case it becomes an unexpected, final, precious memory.

That is the first lesson in “paying attention” … To make an effort to do this so I don’t miss the simple things that may later become the important things. The second lesson, however, took me a little bit longer, and it was when I realized that things aren’t always what they appear…

On the one hand this wasn’t a new idea… For most of my adult life I have known about the masks we all wear, but I can’t say I ever spent much time thinking about the consequences of that… At least, not until a few years after Bruce died.

In the beginning I was pretty honest about how I was feeling – about my grief and how lost I felt. After about a year, though, I began to realize that people were tired of seeing it… of hearing it… of dealing with it. I get it now; it is exhausting to watch and not be able to fix anything. However, at the time, I really struggled with how to find the balance between what I was feeling, while not bringing the rest of the people in my world down with me.

So… I learned to smile and say, “I’m fine.” I learned to make myself think of other things when grief threatened to cause tears at inopportune times. I learned to look comfortable doing things on my own, such as eating out or traveling. I learned to wait until I was alone to cry or express the grief that was threatening to swallow me whole.

… And that is when I realized just how little we (as a collective) actually notice… or at the very least, how little we acknowledge…

Whether people notice when I’m not really fine or whether they ever see the tears brimming as I turn my head, I don’t know. What I do know is that I too am just as guilty of doing the same thing. I try to make a point of doing better these days. Yet, admittedly, there are times when I feel so overwhelmed with my own stuff that I just don’t have anything left in me to give toward someone else’s pain. I know that sounds selfish. I don’t mean to be, and I certainly don’t want to be. At the same time, though, I am being honest… I think sometimes we really don’t notice someone else’s pain and sometimes we choose not to see it.

Either way, I think it is hugely important that we are all aware that rarely are things exactly as they appear to be. Each of us carries some kind of pain – maybe it’s grief… maybe it’s something else, and when we choose to bury our heads in the sand and pretend that we don’t see each other’s pain, we aren’t just hurting them… We are robbing ourselves of the chance to change someone else’s world, even if only for a moment… And the craziest part is that it doesn’t necessarily require a lot… Sometimes it can be as simple as a touch or an empathetic smile… Maybe there are times when it will require a little bit more, but in the long run, if we are keeping that first lesson in mind, (the one where we are paying attention), then maybe we will realize that these are also the important moments that we don’t want to miss either.

Peace, Love, and Grief… When You Think You Have It All Figured Out

Life, the Universe, God… Whatever term you use or believe is fine… Whatever it is has a wicked sense of humor at times… Last week, I wrote about the importance of self-care, especially when grieving. I really thought I had learned a valuable lesson… Had figured out another piece of the puzzle – something that counted as a step forward… And then this week happened. (SMH)

Within hours of last week’s posting, I received a call about my son. Without going into too much detail about a story that is his (not mine)… He had fallen, was being admitted into the hospital, and would be needing surgery. As a mother, my world stopped. Even when your kids are adults, you never stop being their mother. You never stop wanting to be able to “kiss it and make it better”.

But life isn’t that way, is it?

So, I spent the next several days with him in the hospital… waiting… waiting for his body to be ready for the procedure, waiting for an available O.R. – just waiting. After several days, he managed to get through all of that, and was finally discharged… And now, (because he needs a little bit of help for a few weeks), he is here. (Poor guy!)

So, what about the self-care? … Well… I am afraid that has been lost somewhere between still working full-time and acting as nurse. However, that is no one’s fault, and it is my own choice… And, honestly, I really don’t mind… My point, though, is that every time I think I have “life” figured out (or even just a piece of it), something happens, and I am reminded that I really have no idea.

It was the same when Bruce died… He and I had a great life. We were in love. We were happy. We were at peace with our little part of the world… We were content. Just hours before he died, we sat at the dinner table talking about our weekend plans… Should we go kayaking or just chill at the beach? We still hadn’t decided when we went to bed laughing, with me snuggled up and laying in his arms with my head resting on his chest – just listening to him breathe.

We thought we had our lives figured out… But life thought differently… Life had different plans…

I have thought about that a lot this week… About how we can never really figure things out completely. Life just isn’t that way… And I don’t think it is supposed to be. Instead, life really is a journey… a great adventure with everything that any great adventure would entail…. And all any of us can really do is whatever is our best in that moment… nothing more… And whatever that is will be okay.

So that is my goal over these next several weeks or so… to just do what I can and accept what I can’t… And even more so – to be grateful for this time and what it will bring.

I say it every week… Loss is hard, and the grief left in its wake is even harder. But this is a journey where I am continuously learning – mostly about myself… what I think about life, faith, and love. I still hate that losing Bruce is how I got here, though. After all, I didn’t ask to be here. As the years pass, I can honestly say that there are more good days than bad as I learn those things that bring a little bit of healing each day. Although, I still find myself wishing for a world where Bruce is here beside me. So, I will continue to allow myself the space I need to heal and process this life without him. Thankfully, at this point in my journey, I am learning that I am not alone – thanks to you!

Peace, Love, and Grief… Self-Care

In case you happened to notice, I missed writing last week… We had family here from out of state and out of the country. I am sure you can imagine that with Mother’s Day, it was a bit of fun, family chaos. (And I wouldn’t have missed a minute of it!) Initially, I intended to still write a blog, but as the days passed, I decided that this time together was too precious. Who knows if we will ever get this chance again? So, I did something that felt selfish in the moment… But it wasn’t – not really. It was what I would refer to as self-care.

What is self-care? “Self-care is any activity we do to take care of our mental, emotional, spiritual, or physical health.” ~ Switch Research: Self Love Journal, Day 65

So why am I writing about self-care? Well, for me, this has been a struggle for most of my life. I tend to be that person who wants to take of everyone else, and somewhere along the way, I have a tendency to lose touch with myself in the process… And that is on no one else… That is completely on me.

It’s funny, when Bruce was here, we tended to help each other with this. He would nudge me to relax and spend some time letting go… (and I did the same for him, I think). For example, all my life, being by the water has been my calming force. It is the place I withdraw to for some peace of mind or when life just feels like it is becoming too much. Knowing that, Bruce would usually plan days near the water – either on the boat or at the beach. He always seemed to know when I needed that time. He just knew when my tank was running on empty, and I needed some space… some self-care.

Since he died, though, I have had to learn how to do this for myself, and honestly, it has been a bit of a struggle…

At the start of this journey, I preferred to stay busy. I preferred to take of others. That was a whole lot easier than slowing down enough to notice Bruce was gone and how deeply I was hurting. As time passed, though, I started to feel the anxiety and tension building up inside me. I knew something had to give, but I wasn’t sure how to relieve some of the pressure. Eventually, I came to realize that there was a part of me that believed I simply wasn’t worthy of any self-care… Self-care just seemed like such a selfish act, and how dare I even consider such a thing!

But it isn’t. It is just as important as exercise, getting enough rest, and eating right.

So, I started very simple… At first, I started by just writing in my journal each day or taking a stroll on the beach and enjoying the sunshine and surf. After some time, I added in some of my old hobbies, such as painting and sewing, and added new hobbies, such as gardening.

Now, it includes a quiet teatime in the morning with some reading and journaling to find my “center” and get my mindset for the day… Or some porch sittin’ in the evening when the heat of the day is beginning to diminish, and the breezes are picking up. Sometimes, I even find myself just sitting quietly and focusing on all the things around me that otherwise go unnoticed in the business of life.

That’s just it… Self-care will be something different for each of us, but we all need it, (whether we are grieving or not). I’m not saying that grief makes it harder. Yet, for me, grief did create that “perfect storm”. I balked at the thought of doing these things for myself, mostly because Bruce had been the first person to show me just how important it was. He knew I was worthy of it, but I did not… And he spent many a Sunday showing me that I was worthy (period).

He tried so hard to show me that life would carry on and be just fine without me for a little while… So that is where I am now… learning to give myself the space to do those things that bring me mental and spiritual peace and health.

That will look different for each of us. Shoot, it even looks different for me on a daily basis. What I need today will be different than what I needed yesterday or will need tomorrow. The important thing is paying attention and taking the actions that are needed.

That is what I did last weekend. I gave myself the space to simple “be”- to be with my family and take in each precious moment… And that is what I want for each of you, as well… Trust me when I say that you are worthy of taking some time for you… And the results are pretty amazing!

Loss is hard, and the grief left in its wake is even harder. I am continuously learning on this journey – mostly about myself… what I think about life, faith, and love. I still hate it. After all, I didn’t ask to be here. However, I can honestly say that there are more good days than bad as I learn those things that bring a little bit of healing each day. Although, I still find myself wishing for a world where Bruce is here beside me. So, I will continue to allow myself the space I need to heal and process this life without him. Thankfully, at this point in my journey, I am learning that I am not alone – thanks to you!

Peace, Love, and Grief… When the Rules Change

“I understand. I do. I’m a widow, too. It’s hard to lose the person you thought would always be with you… It’s like your life has become some sort of game where they changed all the rules in the middle. But it’s not the end.” ~ Karen White, The Sound of Glass

As I sit here this afternoon, I find myself thinking about Bruce and what he would be doing today…

One of two things – either we would be sitting on the beach enjoying the surf, blue skies, and sunshine, or he would have just returned from the gym, opened a beer, turned on the TV, and sat down to enjoy some sports before starting the grill for dinner.

Either way, I find myself smiling through the tears as I think back to a time when I thought we still had forever in front of us. I knew what we had was precious – something that doesn’t come along every day. I just had no idea that our time together would be so short.

“I thought we had forever…
I never knew we were counting down
from the day we met.”
~ Linda, Sept 2013

I don’t care how much time passes, I still find myself either missing him so much it takes my breath away or forgetting that he is actually gone and wanting to tell him whatever good or bad news I am dealing with.

Either way, in the end, I find myself frustrated and with tears in my eyes. I don’t think I will ever understand why this was our destiny…

I mean, it’s not something on my mind 24/7 like in the beginning, but when I am alone and thinking about the way things turned out… (scratch that) the way things are, I am bewildered by how much it still hurts and how much I still miss him.

I really just assumed we would grow old together… I think we both did. I can’t tell you how many times we would laugh about shenanigans we planned to instigate if we were ever put into a home or all of the plans to cruise the Caribbean and see the world from the bow of a boat… our boat… our future… a future that will never happened.

Instead, the rules got changed. Heck, I feel like the whole game got changed… Somehow, I landed in the middle of this “game”, and I have no idea how to play, what the “rules” are, or even what the goal is.

For someone (like me) who likes things organized – neat and clean with a bow on top, a list person who finds security in knowing what is expected and how to get there – this change is hard. (Shoot! Choosing to ignore the GPS’ directions is about as impulsive and daring as I get. LOL!) I like lists. I like order, I like a schedule. I like to know not only what is coming next, but when to expect it. (Let me just say that grief is not real compatible with that attitude.)

I smile when I tell you this, because Bruce always encouraged me to let go (just a little) … To realize that life will still go on (and be just fine) even if it deviates from my expectations. And because he never pushed me too far – just baby steps (and always with a smile of encouragement), I was learning to do just that. To take chances and let life be what it is… And I was learning to enjoy that ride… To learn that life can be fun even if it is unpredictable.

Then, he was gone, and I didn’t know how to keep doing that. Suddenly, that unpredictable part seemed awful and daunting. In the years since his death, I have often found myself going back to my comfort zone where things are predictable and orderly.

However, life isn’t that way. Life is constantly changing course and changing the rules on all of us – not just me. Some people adapt easier than others (such as myself), but that doesn’t mean I can’t do this… I can… I will… And in my heart, I know Bruce is smiling and saying, “You’ve got this, babe. You’ve got this.”

Loss is hard, and grief is even harder. I have learned a lot on this journey – mostly about myself… what I think about life, faith, and love. I still hate it, but I can honestly say that there are more good days than bad. Admittedly, I still constantly find myself wishing for a world where Bruce is here beside me. So, I will continue to allow myself the space I need to heal and process this life without him. Thankfully, at this point in my journey, I am learning that I am not alone – thanks to you!

Peace, Love, and Grief… Grief Shaming

Last week when I wrote about our adventure to celebrate Bruce’s birthday, I mentioned that we took a ghost tour, which wasn’t…That is where I want to start today. (I will go ahead and put it out there that some of you may be skeptics about some of this story. However, I think the point of the story is something all of us who have grieved have felt at some point in our journey.)

So, on the first night of our trip, my daughter had scheduled a ghost tour. We were just looking for a fun time… nothing more. Ghost tours have always been something we enjoyed and so did Bruce. It seemed like wherever we went, he would always find one for us… And it was always fun. For him, the best part was that my daughter and I seem to have a thing with spirits and people who have passed. I don’t want to go into details, and you can call it my deep southern heritage, but there has been more than one “encounter” that has left me shaken.

As I said, we were just looking for fun and some good stories… That was it. However, we didn’t get one single ghost story associated with any house on the tour. The lady simply took us all over town talking about the real estate, the job market, and the flora and fauna of the area. All we wanted was a story… she could have made it up. We didn’t care. This wasn’t science class… We weren’t there for facts. However, even though we gave her plenty of opportunities to make up stories to answer our questions, we never got a story.

The closest she came to a story was to say, “See this house… I get a feeling around this house.” (That is not a ghost story, in my book.) Then she would show us a bunch of pictures that just looked blurry when she tried to enlarge them and show us the “spirits” she had captured with her phone… Neither of us could make out anything in the pictures. They just looked like blurry windows and door frames.

At one point on the tour, two things happened almost simultaneously. First, she started telling a story about her late father. According to her, after he died, he would randomly ring her doorbell. (I am not arguing that part. I think there is a lot about the world we don’t understand. Plus, I have my own “Bruce” encounters. So, I am not one to judge.)

A few moments later, she was showing us another blurry picture, when I finally spoke up and said, “I’m sorry. I just don’t see what you see. I think I need these things to be really clear and ‘in my face’ for me to see it.” Then, I shared a picture from one of my own “Bruce encounters” where you can see the outline of his body standing next to me and leaving an impression in the curtains. (Despite how this may sound, I’m not crazy. Neither do I want to dwell on or defend this part of the story.)

She looked shocked and asked how I did that. I told her it wasn’t me… It was Bruce. Then she asked, “Well, have you told him it is okay for him to go? That he should go rest in peace? That you are fine without him? … That is what we did with my father and the doorbell ringing stopped.”

“No,” I answered. “I haven’t, and I won’t. I’m not okay without him. I need him to stay here… with me.”

Oh my goodness! If looks could kill. She wasn’t just appalled… She was quite upset with me. I guess in her mind, she had done the right thing… And I was doing the wrong thing. Evidently, I did not deal with my loss in the same way she had, and in her book, that was just plain wrong.

Now, I’m not here to discuss or argue whether my encounters are real or not… or whether it is really Bruce or could be explained some other way. Honestly, it doesn’t matter, because as crazy as it may sound, it brings me comfort to think that he is still here with me.

What I am talking about is her reaction… That, my friends, is grief shaming.

I have written about it before, although I have never given it a name. Whether you give it a name or not, though, doesn’t matter. The point is – this type of judgement is extremely hurtful.

So, what is grief shaming? Well, it is that judgment reaction from others when they are sure they know how you should grieve (and for how long). It is grief advice from someone who is sure they know the right way to grieve, and you are doing it wrong.

Let me just say… from someone who has been on the receiving end many times, this is mean. It is thoughtless… And it is cruel.

Here is the truth… Grief is hard, and it has no time limit. It is as individual as each of us. No two people will ever grieve the same, even if they are grieving the same person. Grief has to do with your relationship with that person, as well as, your past loss experiences, your support system, your faith and beliefs, and a myriad of other details. Let me also say that while there are circumstances where someone who is grieving may be struggling, that still doesn’t mean they are doing it wrong… It simply means they are struggling… And support is needed – not judgment.

Bottom line… There is no right or wrong way to grieve. There is no set amount of time when you should be “over it”. Instead, feel your way through it… Take it as slow or as fast as you are comfortable… and allow others who are grieving to do the same.

I have learned a lot on this journey – mostly about myself… what I think about life… and love… and my faith. I have learned that loss is hard, and grief is even harder. However, now a days, I can say that there are more good days than bad. Admittedly, I still constantly find myself wishing for a world where Bruce is here beside me. So, I will continue to allow myself the space I need to heal and process this life without him. Thankfully, at this point in my journey, I am learning that I am not alone – thanks to you!

Peace, Love, and Grief… Birthdays and Hope

What a busy (and fun) week this has been! This week held both Bruce’s birthday, (today) Easter, and more than anything, a renewed hope… the hope found in the joy of life… Something that nine years ago, I didn’t think I would ever feel again.

One of my goals this year has been to travel 1:1 with each of my kids. As I’ve gotten older, I have come to the realization that I have lived longer than I probably have left on this earth. As a consequence of that little bit of knowledge, I wanted to find a way to spend some 1:1 time with each of my adult kids… just talking, laughing, sharing adventures, and making memories. This week was the first of one of these trips.

One of my daughters and I decided to combine our trip with a celebration of Bruce’s birthday. Now… just to set the stage for this story, you should know that since his memorial/ashes ceremony nine years ago, I have chosen to spend every one of his birthdays alone… Sometimes I have traveled somewhere and other times I have simply stayed right here in this space that is our home… but always alone. That was how I wanted it… I wanted to feel free to celebrate however the mood struck me. Generally, it included at least a walk on the beach, some of his favorite foods, a toast of champagne, and… tears… lots and lots of tears…

So, when we made this decision, it didn’t come lightly. She didn’t want to spend her trip watching me cry, and I didn’t either. She wanted us to have fun, and so did I… We also both wanted to celebrate Bruce and what he added to our lives.

So, the two of us headed to one of his favorite seaside towns – an old pirate town, actually… and what a fun time we had!! We started and ended the trip at one of his favorite taverns. It has changed a lot since Bruce was last there, but it was still just an old dive bar with a great band, great drinks, and lots of laughter.

Throughout the week, we hit all of his favorite spaces, plus a few new spaces that he would have loved if they had existed at the time. We took a ghost tour, which wasn’t… It was a disaster that made for lots of laughter for the rest of the week. We spent time on the beach (of course), went shopping (that was for us, not him – lol!), did a cocktail tour (which was for him… and us. LOL!) and took a sunset cruise, which ended up cruising by an island that held great memories with Bruce, as well. We slept in every morning, and toasted his life every night… And we laughed… a lot!

What I didn’t do was cry… not once… not one single tear. That was a miracle, in my book! … and one for which I am so thankful (and a little bit proud)!

It isn’t that I’m over Bruce… I’m not. I still miss him with every fiber of my being. However, my new goals have included “finding the joy” and remembering to live my life – not just watch the rest of the world live theirs as I sit on the sidelines.

I think that is what made this birthday celebration trip so perfect… It was all about remembering the good times, the laughter, and the love… but doing so with even more good times, laughter, and love versus the tears due to a lack of hope. I, also, feel like I can honestly tell you this without even a hint of regret for how we celebrated, because in my heart, I know Bruce was smiling and laughing too… How do I know? I know because this was a man who left behind a legacy of unconditional love and a “license to chill”… and that is exactly what we did… And as long as there is a breath left in this body, I will continue to love and celebrate him and our time together in a way that is fitting for us.

Loss is hard, and grief is even harder. I have learned a lot on this journey – mostly about myself… what I think about life… and love… and my faith. I still hate it. However, now a days, I can say that there are more good days than bad. Admittedly, I still constantly find myself wishing for a world where Bruce is here beside me. So, I will continue to allow myself the space I need to heal and process this life without him. Thankfully, at this point in my journey, I am learning that I am not alone – thanks to you!

Peace, Love, and Grief… Regrets?

Do I have regrets?

Are there things I would change?

I’ve always said “no” to these questions. The life Bruce and I shared was a good one… In fact, I thought it was going to be a happily-ever-after one. We had each spent so long without love that when we found each other, we both knew just how precious the love between us really was.

Each moment we could spend together, we did. We went to bed together and woke up together. We ate together, watched TV together, read books together, spent out days off together… You get the picture – “together” was our word.

Of course, we had our disagreements… who doesn’t? But it never stopped our love… We didn’t use our love as a weapon to hurt the other or our arguments as a reason to deny our love to each other. (Personally, I think we had both had enough of that in our first marriages.)

So… no… I do not have any regrets on how we lived our lives together.

But… do I have regrets and are there things I would change? Well, you already know I have written about my guilt for not being able to save Bruce the night he died. I think that will always be a struggle for me, (but I am working on it.)

However, there is another part of the story that I haven’t shared with very many people… Mainly because it is my regret… Yet… at the same time, I don’t know if I would actually do anything different. This thing… I do believe it was the right thing to do, but sometimes, the right thing can be the hardest thing to do.

The night Bruce died was awful… That experience was a horrific trauma that I think I will relive over and over until the day I die, too.

The night he died, I called 911 and performed CPR until EMS arrived. (At the time, it felt like forever, but it was probably only about five minutes or so.) When they arrived, they took over the compressions, inserted a tube/bag to help him breathe, and hooked him up to a portable monitor to watch for a heartbeat… A heartbeat that never came. Instead, that line on the monitor remained flat.

They tried all kinds of rescue attempts… shots to his heart… the paddles… I couldn’t even begin to tell you everything (mainly because I was in too much shock at the time to remember). What I do remember, though, is that no matter what they tried, that line never moved… I stood there and watched in absolute shock and disbelief… How could this be real??

Eventually, they stopped everything except the breathing apparatus, loaded him on a gurney, and took him outside to the waiting ambulance… Then, they sat there… waiting… We were all waiting for a policeman to arrive and drive me to the hospital, because I was barely functional. I can’t say how long all of this took… For me, time had stopped… Life had stopped.

We all knew what no one was saying… Bruce was gone… Or was he? I don’t know… I do know miracles happen. Yet for me that night, there were two thoughts racing through my mind:
1. It had been a long time since I had prayed for a miracle. In fact, I had stopped praying for miracles in the chaos of my first marriage, since God didn’t seem to be listening.
And
2. What if I did pray? What if God did listen? Bruce had been like this for a long time… What kind of life would he have after something like this? “Not one he would like,” I thought. He would hate a life like that… A life of dependence on others for every part of his care.

So, what did I pray?

Well… I remember telling God I was scared… I told him I wanted Bruce alive and with me more than anything… Then, I told God that if Bruce couldn’t live a life where he was able to take care of himself – a life of independence… a life he could enjoy… Then God needed to take him home… And he did… Bruce was pronounced ‘dead’ almost as soon as we arrived at the hospital.

To this day, I believe that was the hardest prayer I have ever said… But I also believe that it was the right one. It wasn’t a prayer about me or what I wanted. It was about Bruce… and what he would want.

Some days (when I am feeling so absolutely alone), I wonder if things would have been different if I had said a different prayer that night? I don’t know… I’ll never know… And while there are days when I regret that prayer (for my own sake), I still believe it was the right prayer for him… And that is where I find my peace.

Loss is hard, and grief is even harder. I have learned a lot on this journey – mostly about myself… what I think about life… and love… and my faith. (But I still hate it.) Now a days, I can say that there are more good days than bad, but I constantly find myself wishing for a world where Bruce is still by my side. Allowing myself the space I need to heal and process everything hasn’t been easy. Yet, at this point in my journey, I am learning that I am not alone – thanks to you!