Peace, Love & Grief – Page 14 – There is a peace that comes with acceptance, and a love that is always remembered

Peace, Love, and Grief… Birthdays, Exhaustion, and Love

This week has definitely been filled to the brim with all kinds of love and fun. Not only was there Christmas to think about, it was also my birthday. It probably sounds odd, but since Bruce died, my birthday has held mixed emotions. I am happy to be alive and love spending time with my family. At the same time, the idea of celebrating without Bruce feels awful… There is a part of me that still feels disloyal to him and his memory whenever I get caught up in the joy of celebrating anything… much less my birthday.

My kids were getting a little bit stressed when they realized the date was quickly approaching and I had no idea what I wanted to do to celebrate. So, they ended up making an entire weekend out of it… I felt like a princess all weekend – doing all the things I love with people I love… And the best part, while I am absolutely exhausted, I never felt those normal guilt-ridden emotions I have felt in years past.

We started with a wonderful dinner at a “fine dining” establishment. The funniest part – it may have been a fancy restaurant, but I spotted our table immediately, because there were two huge balloons announcing my age to the world. While my kids grew up going to establishments such as this one since they were quite small, they have never been ones to get caught up in pretense. So, the whole thing struck me as completely hilarious! I’m not sure how the management felt about it, but they rolled with the punches and made it an evening to remember.

For me… I wish more than anything Bruce had been there too, and yet, with all of the love at that table, I would swear I could feel his smiling eyes, and hear his quiet voice saying, “This is good… Just enjoy the moment and be happy.”

The next day, we all got up early and headed out to the immersive Van Gogh experience downtown. It was beautiful, but I have to admit the laughter and family time together was the best part of the day. Afterwards, we found a restaurant by the water and enjoyed a lunch filled with wine and great stories. And while the art museum would not have been Bruce’s thing, he would have muddled through for my sake, and enjoyed the water-front restaurant as much (if not more) than the rest of us.

The best part of the day, though, has always been one of my favorite things to do… riding around looking at Christmas lights. My daughter found one of those miles long displays that offers their own radio station, hot cocoa, and lots of picture opps along the way. I wish Bruce could have been there, but throughout the ride, I found myself remembering our first Christmas together. Bruce was so excited when he found one of those light displays and couldn’t wait to take me. It probably sounds crazy, but that night just seemed to meld into this one – beautiful and fun!

Then, last night was a night we have waited three years for… You see, Bruce and I used to always go see Jimmy Buffet in concert every year. It was always such a blast, and one of those things I didn’t think I would ever do again after he died. But in 2019, my daughter bought us tickets to go (for my birthday). However, the concert got delayed a year due to JB’s medical issues. Then, last year it was delayed again due to Covid. (We were beginning to wonder if we were ever going to get there.) But last night, there we were in all of our parrot-head attire finally enjoying a fun, music-filled night. I will say, last night it really did feel like he was there beside me – dancing and humming along.

So today, I am exhausted. It was an absolutely, fabulous weekend. One I thought I was fine to ignore, but instead I learned a great lesson… I learned that I can have fun… I can laugh and dance and all those things that used to be such a huge part of my life… and I’m pretty sure, Bruce approved… I am pretty sure he was watching… and smiling… (At least it felt like he was, and that’s really all that matters.)

This grief journey is not an easy path for any of us… and this time of year, it can be just a little bit harder. I don’t think any of us wants to on this path, but this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. This journey is filled with challenges I never imagined – especially during the holidays. Each time I think I have it figured out; I find I don’t at all, despite the years since he passed. These next few weeks will definitely hold many challenges for all of us.

Thankfully, we are not alone… 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. 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

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

Peace, Love, and Grief… One Day at a Time

When it comes to death and the aftermath of losing someone we love, grief is the word we tend to use the most. According to the dictionary, grief is defined as deep sorrow, usually in response to death. I can’t argue that… It is true. However, this week I realized there is another word that seems to be a little more accurate. It is defined as the complete loss or absence of hope. This time of year, that sounds a little more precise, especially when everything around me is about family and joy. Yet here I am without my other half, and all I seem to feel is… despair.

Most of the time, I feel like I have come such a long way since that awful night years ago. However, lately, I seem to cry whenever I am alone. I still miss him. I would still give anything to have him next to me. Just the two of us snuggled on the couch, gazing at the lights on the tree, and talking about nothing and everything. But… for me… for us, that will never happen again. That is where I fall apart and the despair happens…

“Psalmists failed to capture this kind of despair… I want to dig a hole with my bare hands and stay there in a field and in the damp cold, and tell the world that I am so angry, so sad, so longing, I can hardly breathe.” ~ Sarah Bessey, Out of Sorts

When we were married, I always thought we would live “happily ever after.” We were so right together. How could we not live happily ever after? But that was not our destiny… As it turns out, “happily ever after” is something only found in fairy tales and Disney movies. So now, I find myself wondering how to reconcile my never-ending longing for this man I still love with all my heart with the fact that he is gone, and I am here all alone.

This week as I was reading Sarah Bessey’s book, Out of Sorts, the chapter was about her grief. For me, there was a common language there. I seemed to be able to relate to every word. When she talked about her own grief journey, I kept thinking, “Yes! Exactly! That is where I was… And if I’m honest, sometimes still find myself.”

“At the beginning of my journey…, I was filled with grief for my own small concerns, yes, but also for the world. I had run out of words. And faith. I was grieving in a personal and spiritual way… Silence was akin to prayer for me for a long time. I simply moved through my life with silence in my spirit, waiting on God. I couldn’t pray, but the part of me that had once prayed was waiting. Simply waiting.” ~ Sarah Bessey, Out of Sorts

That was me, too! … And this week, it still is… at least a little bit… Struggling to put my emotions into words, and finally just resorting to a desperate silence. I am trying so hard to enjoy this precious season, and most of the time, I feel like I am enjoying myself. But then, I hear a song or see something that touches my heart and the one person I want to share it with isn’t here. It is more than just grief that follows that realization… That is despair.

I guess I am learning that some years, the holidays are going to be just a little bit harder than other years. Some days are harder than other days. And some moments are harder than other moments. I need to remind myself that it’s okay to miss him. It’s okay to cry. I don’t need to apologize or make excuses to anyone else for what I feel. I simply need give myself permission to take a few deep breaths, feel what I feel for as long as I need before moving on.

“Let yourself grieve. When something ends, it’s worthwhile to notice its passing, to sit in the space and look at the pieces before you head out.” Sarah Bessey, Out of Sorts

This grief journey is not an easy path for any of us… and this time of year, it is just a little bit harder. I don’t think any of us wants to be here, but this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. This journey is filled with challenges I never imagined – especially during the holidays. Each time I think I have it figured out; I find I don’t at all, despite the years since he passed. These next few weeks will definitely hold many challenges.

Peace, Love, and Grief… The Struggle is Real

Well, Thanksgiving is over, and it is officially the “Christmas Season.” That phrase fills me with both excitement and dread… This is when the inner struggle between celebration and grief reawakened becomes in-your-face real.

For example, I started playing Christmas music this week. “Alexa, play Christmas music” has probably been the most used command in my house. The music starts, I start humming, and the next thing I know, the tears are filling my eyes and sliding down my cheeks. The idea that I will spend another Christmas with him… Without his smile or hugs… is overwhelmingly sad.

That thought then takes me down another road… The idea that Bruce is no longer able to be a part of this season… He will never again cut down a Christmas tree or place the angel on the top… He won’t hear the music or be a part of our families’ celebrations… That is even more sad.

Now, throw in one more thing… The fact that I don’t want to ruin anyone else’s holidays with my melancholy. So… I smile and pretend that everything is fine. And, if by chance, the subject comes up or someone happens to be near when I have having “a moment”, many times we will struggle through a few moments of awkwardness until we figure out how to handle it. Some people just give me my moment – maybe offering a hug or just sitting with me in silence for a moment or two while I pull it back together.

However, there are also those who just can’t help themselves. They are either too uncomfortable with the grief in that moment, or they believe I have it all wrong. I understand being uncomfortable. I’m not insulted or upset… It is uncomfortable… It is awkward. Trust me. I know… I’m in the middle of it.

However, those who believe they need to fix me or my thinking, frustrate the tar out of me… Logic or Sunday School answers aren’t helpful. They are great at adding more guilt and resentment, but I don’t really think that is the goal. So, then I am left with two choices. 1 – Explain why this thing they are saying isn’t helpful, or 2 – Smile and thank them. Which way I decide completely depends on how well I know them or how many “helpful” phrases I have heard before this one. (Either way, it isn’t a great conversation.)

Here is the bottom line… I not unhappy. Honestly, I’m not. I’m just not always able to be happy.

I want to celebrate.

I want to sing.

I want to laugh.

I want to spend time with family and friends enjoying the holiday and all it entails.

Yet, every time I sing or smile or laugh, it feels like I have forgotten him, if even for just a moment. And I don’t want to do that… I don’t want to forget him… ever… So, this year, I plan to enjoy as much time with loved ones as possible…. I also plan to play his favorite Christmas albums, hang his stocking next to mine, and remember… And if the tears fall… well… I guess, that’s okay too.

Peace, Love and Grief… Handling the Holidays

This is the season when we are all supposed to focus on the blessings in our lives, right? It is a season to be thankful for all the wonderful blessings. Yet, at this time of year, I somehow always find myself struggling. I want to be thankful… In fact, I am thankful. However, I seem to always find myself caught between opposing emotions. I am torn between missing Bruce and not wanting to celebrate the holidays without him (again) and wanting to completely submerge myself into celebrating the holidays with my loved ones and turn my back on the memories of the past… Memories that I wish more than anything were still real.

I remember when this whole journey began… I couldn’t see the blessings… All I could focus on was the fact that Bruce was gone. I really struggled with trying to understand why I was still here, and Bruce wasn’t. I loved him so much. How was I supposed to go on without him? What was the purpose? Did I even have a reason to still be here? Honestly, while I didn’t want to be here, I knew there had to be a reason, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what it was. It was taking everything I had just to survive that first year… how could God expect anything more of me? How in the world could I find anything to be thankful for?

That first year, I pretty much just ignored the holidays. I just couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t celebrate anything. Then, in the following years, I found myself celebrating a little bit more each year… Learning to look past what isn’t and trying to focus on what is. It hasn’t been easy, but the love of my family has made it possible. However, I would be lying if I didn’t tell you that there is still a part of me that wants to just sit down and cry when I look and see an empty chair beside me… Where is he? Why isn’t he here with us? It doesn’t matter whose table I am sitting at, or how much laughter and love are surrounding me, that sight seems to always break my heart.

This year, though, I found myself going back to read a letter my father sent last year… A year when we all had to stay apart. This year we will all be together (thankfully). Yet, his words are still a good reminder for me…

“I was just thinking earlier of Thanksgivings and Christmases past and hoping that your day will be one like those: overflowing with warmth and happy pandemonium, wrapped in family and in the love of family, and conscious of all that you (and we) have been given. Amid all the things we allow to bother us, there’s much to be thankful for, isn’t there? Much more of blessings than of burdens; much more of hope than of discouragement; much more of love than of whatever exists in the absence of love. (I honestly don’t know what that would be; I’ve only known love.) Look around you at the faces you love. You’re looking at an inventory of unspeakable blessing; take the opportunity and let it fill your heart, and then you’ll be ready to give thanks to the Source of all that blessing.”

I will be mulling over these words over the next few weeks, holding them close to my heart and letting them soak in… basking in the love and courage they express… Building my own strength, by listening to his words of faith as a reminder of all the blessings – past and present – that make up my life.

Our God truly is a good God… And I known I have been blessed. So, I thank you, God, for not only giving me a season to be thankful, but for the faith of those I love who remind me of all the many blessings I have to be thankful for!

This can be a tough season when you are experiencing deep grief. Grief changes how we look at life and the world around us. This can make it hard to celebrate and even harder to be thankful. Yet, it is in remembering and finding those blessings that we are able to celebrate at all. Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. What changes have you had to navigate on this journey? How do you manage those? We would love to hear your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you and 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 that we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. 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… 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… Happy Anniversary, Babe!

This week, I took some time off from work to celebrate what would have been our 16th anniversary… Even, now, it’s still hard to believe the love of my life is gone…

Happy Anniversary, Babe!… Sixteen! Wow! It’s hard to believe, but here I am sitting in “our restaurant celebrating “us” one more time. I think I will always celebrate the day we started our “happily ever after.” I am really missing you today… The tears feel as if they will fall at any moment… And mad… It has kind of surprised me, but I am kind of angry today, too. I don’t want to be doing this alone (again)! Enough is enough… I want you back here! After all these years, I still want you back.

(And breathe…) I need to stop focusing on that today. I need to just think of you… and us.

I think back to this day 16 years ago… My heart was so full!! So excited (and a little scared) at the thought of spending the rest of my life with this man who loved me… really loved me – unconditionally and for the rest of our lives… (even though that didn’t turn out to be).

For lunch today, I am here at our restaurant. They are always so gracious and still make it feel like a celebration, (even if I am alone). I keep wondering what today would be like if you were still here. I wonder what our lives would be like. Where would we be? What would we be doing? Would we have retired by now and bought that sailboat like we lways planned? Would we be chasing our dream of cruising the islands? … I wonder…

Oh my… There go the tears… I am missing you so much I can hardly breathe today. I’ve been sitting here for such a long time. I know I should leave, but I don’t want to move.

—————– (evening time)

Thank you, Babe! Thank you for being the man who loved me no matter what… You became my most amazing best friend (and even more). You “got” me… You knew when I needed a hug or another glass of wine. Your arms were always there – ready to hold me when I felt like my world was falling apart or when I just needed to feel your love… I miss that! I miss it so much!!

Sometimes I just sit in this house and remember… I can almost see you dancing barefoot in the kitchen while cooking dinner… Or pouring your “shower shots” before jumping into the shower after a long day at work. I love the way you used to turn back the covers on the bed and turn down the lights when it was bedtime. Then, you always helped me into bed and tucked me in before climbing into your side and pulling me close to lay in your arms… I really miss sleeping in your arms. There was so much peace and security to be found there. It always felt nothing could go wrong as long as I was laying there with you… My head on your chest listening to your heart beat as your breathing slowed and you fell asleep.

But now, all of that is gone… Now, I am supposed to smile and bravely face the world alone… I think I do okay, but I don’t like it… I don’t like it at all… just sayin’….

I love you, Babe! I will always love you… And I will always celebrate this day… and us! Happy 16th anniversary, Babe! I love you – always and forever!

This grief journey is not an easy path for any of us. It is not a path I ever saw myself on, and you probably didn’t either. I don’t think any of us wants to be here, but this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. This journey is filled with challenges I never imagined. Each time I think I have it figured out; I find I don’t at all. Despite the years, special days, like anniversaries, don’t seem to get any easier. This week definitely held its challenges. Honestly, I don’t think any of us ever know from one day to the next, or one moment to the next, when another wave of grief will hit or what will be the next trigger, and that can make this journey feel so completely baffling and hard to navigate.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone. We are here for each other and, 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. 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.

Peace, Love, and Grief… Remembering a Loved One

This week, our family lost a wonderful lady. She was my Aunt… My mother’s sister… I know her children and their children have lost their mother/grandmother. I am sure their pain is much, much greater. But I can only write from my own perspective and what I know… My aunt has been sick and in pain for years, and I know I should be able to say, “She is better off,” But I can’t… I hate that phrase. I know it is meant to console. However, when Bruce died, I did not find it consoling. So instead, I will say this…

I know she isn’t in pain anymore. I know where her soul is… But, oh my goodness, she will be missed.

For me, she will always be the Aunt who I loved to spend summers with. Every summer, she was the one who took me to the beach, and I loved it! Each day while I was there, we would go to Sullivan’s Island – to the same station at low tide every single time because the gullies left behind were deep enough to swim in, and she didn’t have to worry us kids. Those were great days – sitting in the sand, eating PBJs, catching hermit crabs, and riding the waves.

She was also the one who introduced me to opera and live theater. I remember going to Madam Butterfly rehearsals with her at the Dock Street Theater and being completely enthralled. To my mind, there was a magic there that I instantly gravitated to. (That love of theater has never changed.)

When I turned 18, (which was considered “legal” at the time), she took me to the bar at the old Francis Marion Hotel and bought me my first drink – an amoretto sour. I remember having a conversation about not drinking too much, and how a “true lady” should never finish her drink… Always walk away with a little bit still in the glass. (Even when we talked on the phone during these last few years, she still had great advice to offer.)

I’m really going to miss her…

But that is only my perspective… For my mother, it is a bit harder. While she has lost my own mother, she has never lost a child, a spouse, … or as in this case, a sibling before now. I know this loss is especially hard for her, and I think my Dad said it best today…

“Brenda was her sister — they shared memories with each other that no one else could share — and she wants whatever closure there may be. Losing a sibling is unique. It isn’t necessarily worse than losing someone else, just… unique. It’s almost as though your childhood isn’t quite lost as long as there’s someone who shared it and can rehash those memories with you. When there’s no one left who can do that, the book of your childhood is closed. It’s not a tragedy, just an unanticipated part of the loss.”

My heart breaks for my mom… Actually, my heart breaks for all us… My aunt was her own person… She loved to laugh; she loved to sing…. And she loved her family fiercely… I’m going to miss you, Aunt Brenda… May you rest in peace…

This grief journey is not an easy path for any of us. It is not a path I ever saw myself on, and you probably didn’t either. I don’t think any of us wants to be here, but this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. This journey is filled with challenges I never imagined. Each time I think I have it figured out; I find I don’t at all. Honestly, none of us ever know from one day to the next, or one moment to the next, when another wave of grief will hit or what will be the next trigger, and that can make this journey feel so completely baffling and hard to navigate.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone. We are here for each other and, 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. 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. 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* Be advised that all comments are subject to approval prior to posting. Any comments determined to be spam or not in accordance with the mission of this website/blog will not be approved or posted. Furthermore, any comments determined to be hostile in nature will be reported to the proper authorities. Thank you.

Peace, Love and Grief… And Just Like That, It’s Halloween Again

I can’t believe it is already Halloween… again! My goodness! Where does the time go? Throughout my life – while growing up, when my children were little, and while Bruce was alive, Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. However, the season always seemed to start WAY before December… In a way, Halloween has always marked the beginning of an entire season of fun – A time filled with holidays and big events with Christmas being the climax.

To this day, I am so very thankful for the last holiday season that Bruce and I shared. The memories from that year are so very precious now. Although at the time, it just seemed like another holiday season. With Halloween falling this weekend, I am reminded again, just how precious our time with our loved ones really is…

Until Bruce died, I never really thought of Halloween as a holiday with special memories, but I was wrong… As I look back, over the years I can find so many small things that still make me smile….

For example, when we lived in Michigan, there were no Trick or Treaters. We lived in a second-floor condo which required a code for entrance. There were no children in the building except my (then) teenage daughter and no way for anyone to enter. So, no one knocked on our door yelling, “Trick or Treat.” We didn’t buy candy, and other than the shenanigans at work, it was just another day.

Then when we moved to Florida, we decided to live in an apartment for the first year until we got our bearings. With the exception of my (then) toddler grandson dressed as a pirate and one group of teenagers (who knocked on our door at 10 PM) no one came. Again, other than the shenanigans at work, it was pretty much just another day.

Then, we moved to the house where I live now…

I knew there were a lot of children in the neighborhood, so I bought three of those huge bags of candy and tried to prep Bruce for what was probably coming. For him, it had been well over a decade since he had answered a door on Halloween to pass out candy. At the time, though, all he heard was “candy.” As soon as he realized I had hidden it somewhere in the house, it was “game on”… He went on a hunt despite my saying that it was for Halloween – not him.

I will always remember the Cheshire Cat grin on his face as he walked back into the kitchen with a handful of chocolate. He had found the entire stash in the third place he looked. I couldn’t figure out how in the world he had found it so flippin’ fast! According to him, the fact that I am so short narrowed the hiding places down by more than half. Then, he just thought of where there might be enough space for three huge bags… All I can tell you is that by Halloween, I had to replace more than one of those silly bags.

On Halloween, he grouched every time the doorbell rang, and I laughed and poked fun at him for being a crabby, old man… The next year, our last Halloween together, was different, though. He was actually excited about the night and loved answering the door. I stood back and watched him as he talked to all the kids (even the teenagers). He even found a mask he had bought years before and tried to scare a few poor souls. It was such a fun night, and we both fell into bed laughing at the end of it.

Now looking back, I don’t know if he was just trying to enjoy Halloween or if he knew what was coming and wanted to leave me with some fun memories… Either way, that night warms my heart.

The next year was my first year without Bruce quickly, and the day became a challenge that I wasn’t expecting. To my mind, Halloween is a kid’s holiday. It really isn’t about adults or family memories… And to be honest, we had only had one really fun Halloween together. However, that first year showed me that Halloween would come to mark the start of what is generally a few rough months for me emotionally…

Journal: 10/31/2013
(morning)
“The first of the holidays – this one always feels like the “kick-off” for the holiday season. I don’t really feel like celebrating but I did buy candy. I woke up this morning, and I just feel pissed. I don’t think this will be a good day… not really looking forward to it – don’t really feel like festivities or anything like it.“

(night)
“Halloween without you, Babe! Too hard!! I miss you!! I keep thinking about you answering the door last year and all the fun. This year is hard, though. I am listening to Jimmy Buffet and wishing you were here… Six kids so far and I am crying. Maybe I should just turn out the light and call it a night.
So sad… just so very sad… What is – is. Nothing I do will ever change it. I feel like I shouldn’t be here, but I am… maybe one day I will understand why I am still here.”

Then, years later, I spent Halloween with my daughter and grandson.

Journal: 11/1/2015
“Hi Babe… This weekend was really good for me. I couldn’t be with you, but I was with people I love. I’m sure you would guess that we stayed very busy. You would have loved watching our grandson… he is more excited about his costume and handing out the candy, than actually going door to door to get any (which just cracks me up.) Afterward, there was an impromptu party back at the house. It was wonderful chaos – the house was filled with very tired but laughing adults and kids too excited to settle down.
Saturday included an Octoberfest at their school/church. You would have loved it – German food and beer. I only teared up once… when the kids performed their Fall music program. I know you were there… I know you were watching… but I still wish I could have seen your face. You and your little “Beaudroux” had such a close connection, I know you would have been beaming with pride.
The night ended with a dinner party at a friend’s house. It was fun, and they made me feel so welcome. I can’t say I like it, but I am getting (more) used to going to parties without you by my side…
It wasn’t until the wee, dark hours of the night when I was actually alone with my thoughts that the tears fell. My emotions were a little bit of melancholy, sadness, loneliness and (believe it or not)… guilt. I miss you, Babe. I still managed to have fun but then I feel guilty about that. Crazy, I know, but that is what I felt. I wonder if that is normal?“

Through the years, I have gotten stronger. While these next few months are still difficult ones for me, I have definitely gotten better at taking it one day… one moment at a time. I am better at enjoying the time with friends and family and cherishing the memories we are making together. I have also learned to give myself some grace… I have learned that it’s okay to feel what I feel… It’s okay to grieve the fact that my heart is broken because Bruce isn’t here to share any part of this anymore.

How we handle the big days can vary year to year, moment to moment. Sometimes we manage these better than other times… We’re only human, and this is a tough journey. What about you? How do you manage your big days? This journey is filled with challenges I never imagined. Each time I think I have it figured out; I find I don’t at all. Honestly, none of us ever know from one day to the next, or one moment to the next, (one holiday to the next), when another wave of grief will hit or what will be the next trigger, and that can make this journey feel so completely baffling and hard to navigate.

Peace, Love, and Grief… Contemplations

I have good friends.
I have good family.
I am in a good place.
So, why does it still hurt so bad?
~ Linda, 2021

Hi Babe,
It’s odd how life just continues to plug along… Some days it feels like only yesterday you were here, and other days it feels as if I have been alone and missing you forever. This is that time of year that gets hard for me… all the holidays plus so many of our special days… Sometimes I just sit here in the quiet… waiting… listening… wishing I could hear your voice just one more time… But I don’t… All I hear is the never ending quiet. A quiet that at times brings me comfort and at other times threatens to swallow me.

I love looking around and finding odds and ends that remind me of you. Sometimes it is a little memento of a special time we had together, such as a shell picked up while diving on our honeymoon. Or maybe just seeing your tools still in the garage… waiting. (You would be proud. I’ve learned how to use a lot of them.) Then, there are your books – books on fishing and sailing, books on health and working out, books on travel, and books on philosophy. Many of them I have read by now, and the others just make me smile because they are so completely “you”. Somedays I just love picking up a photo album, curling up on the couch, and thumbing through… remembering the days and moments caught on film – how absolutely precious these are to me now.

I miss you so much, and I don’t know if I will ever get used to living in this world without you… Which is kind of strange, since we didn’t even have that much time together… only eight short years. The thing is you changed my world so much…

Before you, I can remember crying and wondering if I would ever know what it was like to be loved… really loved… There was so much hurt and pain left by my first marriage. I had been convinced (by him) that I wasn’t worth loving. But then you came along, and suddenly I was loved – totally and completely! Everything I had ever imagined or wished for came true with you… I knew it was rare… I knew it was a precious gift… What I didn’t know was just how short our time together would be… That has probably been the hardest part to accept – our life together had practically just started, and just as suddenly, it was over.

Sigh… (It’s times like this that I have to remind myself to breathe.)

I miss you, Babe… More than you could ever know. And I love you… I will always love you – Always and forever!

I miss you.
I think of you and my heart warms.
So then,
How do I face tomorrow?
How do I face another day without you?
My heart was broken into a thousand pieces when you left.
How am I to pick it up and move forward?
I still don’t know…
~ Linda, 2021

I say this every week, because I believe it is important… this is not an easy path for any of us. It is not a path I ever saw myself on, and you probably didn’t either. I don’t think any of us wants to be here, but this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. This journey is filled with challenges I never imagined. Each time I think I have it figured out; I find I don’t at all. Honestly, none of us ever know from one day to the next, or one moment to the next, when another wave of grief will hit or what will be the next trigger, and that can make this journey feel so completely baffling and hard to navigate.

Peace, Love, and Grief… On Being a Good Widow

Somedays the pain is so great.
Somedays it is too much.
But still I must put a smile on my face
And walk out to face the world.
I must pretend all is well.
But inside…
The pain is so great…
It is too much…
Too much…
~ Linda, 2013

All my life, I was raised to the “a good girl.” I can’t say I ever got it quite right, but that was always the goal set before me. I never thought it was unusual. After all, it was the same for (almost) all the kids I knew… That was the expectation – “be good.”

I don’t think there is really anything wrong with that goal, and I can’t say that I resent it at all. I just think there needed to be a clearer picture of what that should look like. Somehow, for me, “being good” became equivalent to being a pleaser. As long as I could make others happy (and not upset with me), then that was good… And I was good. And sadly, that mindset followed me into adulthood.

In my first marriage, when things got violent, I just kept thinking that if I could be better – a better mother, a better wife, a better housekeeper, a better “whatever”, then he wouldn’t be so mad, and everything would be better… I just had to be good. The problem, however, was this: what was “good” one day wasn’t “good” then next. Life in our house was a guessing game, and the kids and I were losing. It took me a long time to leave, and while logically I knew he was the only one responsible for his behavior, I was still ashamed. I was the one who couldn’t do it anymore, and a big part of me felt that maybe I should have just been better.

Then I met Bruce… And my whole world changed! He never asked me to be better. He never expected me to be “a good girl”. He loved me…. me! And his only expectation was that I love him back. I could drop all attempts at changing who I was to try to please him… I could just be me – the good and the bad. For the first time, I had “permission” to let go of all the phony stuff and just be myself… And I was still loved… not just a little bit… I was loved totally and completely… simply for being me.

What a blessing!!

Then… he was gone. Just like that, in the middle of the night, he took his last breath and left me here – all alone. To say it was devastating would be a huge understatement.

The first few months became a blur… I walked around in a daze, just trying to remember to breathe. Slowly, I became aware of the people around me. I had a great circle around me that was supportive. I also had a few people who wanted something else…

My grief… my sadness was making them uncomfortable. For them, I needed to “Get over it”… “Smile”… “Don’t cry” … “Move on” …

It didn’t take long for old habits to reappear. In my mind, I remember making the conscious decision that I needed to be “a good widow.” I needed to be careful not to make those around me uncomfortable. I needed to hide my grief and my tears. I needed to smile at the world, so that the world could be happy.

One day, I remember being admonished for crying, and being told, “How do you think that looks to others? How do you think that makes them feel?” So, I tried harder… And, over time, I got better at being “a good widow”. In other words, I got better at hiding my feelings. I got better at not talking about Bruce so often. I got better at pretending I was okay…

Only I wasn’t okay. I was imploding – slowly but surely.

How do I find joy in this when you were my joy?
I am sinking on my own.
I know I need to find some peace in this,
But all I want to find is you.

How do I reconcile what I know with what I feel?
I can’t…
Instead, I smile like a good girl,
Finding neither joy, nor peace…
Nor you…
~ Linda, 2013

Much later, I was to learn that this behavior is called “covering”. Covering is when a person “hides” a part of themselves in order to fit into the societal norms around them. (Most people in this world cover for something. I imagine, if you dig deep enough, you might be surprised to find what it is about yourself that you are covering.)

When I learned about covering, I realized it is something I had done all of my life… I did it in my first marriage, when I smiled at the world despite what was happening behind closed doors within my home. And here I was doing it again… Pretending this pain did not exist inside me… Pretending everything was fine, just so no one else would be uncomfortable… Pretending so I could fit into the vision they had of me.

For me, at the time, I didn’t know this behavior had a name. I didn’t know this is a normal behavior. I thought it was just a “me” thing. So, I started this blog. This became my safe space to simply be me… to express whatever pain or crazy feelings I was having on this journey. I quickly found I could express myself, while the people who know me could choose to read it or not. I wasn’t forcing anyone into my world of grief – it was an optional journey for anyone else. And because of this space… this once-a-week download of whatever is happening inside, I have been able to find some peace.

Over time, I have slowly learned how to be honest with the world around me while still maintaining a balance of not making everyone else crazy with my grief. More and more, I am able to be who I truly am, and that has saved me. It has allowed me to express myself in a way that more easily accepted… It might not be a permanent solution… It might not be the best solution, but it has worked for me… And because of this weekly space, I have been able to really and truly be “a good girl”, “a good widow” and more importantly… a better me.

I say this every week, because I believe it is important to recognize… this is not an easy path for any of us. It is not a path I ever saw myself on, and you probably didn’t either. I don’t think any of us wants to be here, but this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. This journey is filled with challenges I never imagined. Each time I think I have it figured out, I find I don’t at all. Honestly, none of us ever know from one day to the next, or one moment to the next, when another wave of grief will hit or what will be the next trigger, and that can make this journey feel so completely baffling and hard to navigate.

Peace, Love, and Grief… Like a Kaleidoscope

So many times, I heard (or read) the analogy that life is like a kaleidoscope… Each new twist brings a new perspective… A different way of looking at the same things… the things that make up our lives. That being said, grief has to have been the one thing that not only twisted the kaleidoscope but shook it up to the point that life as I knew it became unrecognizable.

“The death of a spouse or partner is different than other losses, in the sense that it literally changes every single think in your world going forward. When your spouse dies, the way you eat changes. The way you watch TV changes. Your friend circle changes (or disappears entirely). Your family dynamic/life changes (or disappears entirely). Your financial status changes. Your job situation changes. It effects your self-worth. Your self-esteem. Your confidence. Your rhythms. The way you breathe. Your mentality. Your brain function. (Ever heard the term ‘widow brain’? If you don’t know what that is, count yourself as very lucky.) Your physical body. Your hobbies and interests. Your sense of security. Your sense of humor. Your sense of womanhood, or manhood. EVERY. SINGLE. THING. CHANGES. You are handed a new life that you never asked for and that you don’t particularly want. It is the hardest, most gut-wrenching, horrific. Life-altering of things to live with.” ~ Kelley Lynn, My Husband is Not a Rainbow

I’ve never read anything more true! Everything in my life is so different than it used to be. In the beginning, I was so resistant to those changes. In fact, it took me almost a year to move anything of his – his clothes, his shoes, his books, even his reading glasses. I walked the rooms of this house just searching for anything that might indicate he wasn’t really gone… but he was. And eventually, I had to accept that.

It took a while, but I got there… I finally accepted that he was gone, and no matter how hard I wished and prayed otherwise, he wasn’t coming home… I was alone. Thankfully, I have some great friends and family who helped me go through things a little at a time… They were patient and didn’t push or rush me. They just kept telling me to do it my own time and at my own pace. (Thank God for those people.)

“Let yourself grieve. When something ends, it’s worthwhile to notice its passing, to sit in the space and look at the pieces before you head out.” ~ Sarah Bessey, Out of Sorts

Of course, time has moved on. Now, I can change and move things without feeling guilty or feeling like I am pushing him aside… I don’t want my home to be a museum. I want it to be a space filled with love, precious memories, and life as it happens now. However, it wasn’t an easy road to get here, and I would still put it all back if it meant I could have Bruce back, too.

This week, I was blessed to dream about Bruce two times. The first time I dreamed that he was sick, and I was taking care of him. In my dream, he just kept smiling and telling me that he loved me. I woke up smiling… It has been a long time since I heard those words and his voice… I knew it was only a dream, but it felt so real… and those few moments in my sleep felt absolutely priceless. (Honestly, all I wanted to do was to go back to sleep and see if that dream would come back.)

The second time I dreamed of him, it was just a normal day… just life… and the two of us. As I lay there, halfway between being asleep and being awake, I found myself wondering which was the dream? Was Bruce fine, and I had only had a bad dream that he had died? Or was Bruce gone, and I had only dreamed everything was fine?

I got my answer once I was fully awake… Sometimes that is the hardest… To not fully remember. Then when I do wake up, I grieve his loss all over again. Yet, at the same time, I love, love, love those dreams. I would rather have those dreams every single night and feel like I was able to spend a few precious moments with him, even if it means I will grieve and hurt when I wake up, than to not have those moments at all… For me, that would be worse.

Today while I was having my nails done, my nail tech noticed my wedding ring. “I don’t see that one very often,” she said.

“No,” I replied. “I don’t always wear it… It’s my wedding ring. I usually only wear it when I am really missing him.” Then the tears started, so I stopped talking. She gently squeezed my hand and said, “He was pretty special, wasn’t he?” And I just nodded… I couldn’t talk… there were no words for all the feelings rushing into my heart.

In that moment, I also realized that my kaleidoscope has been twisting back and forth a lot lately, and it has been throwing me off balance. But as I sit here and process everything, I know it’s okay… and I’m okay… I’m just missing him… that’s all.

I have said it before – this is not an easy path for any of us. It is not a path I ever saw myself on, and you probably didn’t either. I don’t think any of us wants to be here, but this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. This journey is filled with challenges I never imagined. Each time I think I have it figured out, I find I don’t at all. Honestly, none of us ever know from one day to the next, or one moment to the next, when another wave of grief will hit or what will be the next trigger, and that can make this journey feel so completely baffling and hard to navigate.