grieve – Page 14 – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love, and Grief… Dear Bruce

I feel like I’m swimming in the dark.
On a moonless night, my frail arms and legs thrash about in black despair.
I can’t see where I’m going or where I’ve been.
I can’t see the danger lurking beneath the surface,
But I know it’s there.
I am terrified of losing what little independence I have left.
I grope for a glimmer of purpose to keep me afloat,
But I cannot find it.
Floundering. Gasping for air.
In thick water, I can feel but cannot see.
Then I sense your voice speaking to me stirring my soul:
“Look up, child.
Put your feet on the rock bottom.
It is solid ground. Holy ground.
Stand up and live.”
~ Missy Buchanan, Talking with God in Old Age

The anniversary of Bruce’s death was this past week, and as many of you know… I was struggling. First, I want to say, “Thank you!” Thank you to the many friends and family who reached out to me. Your support and love are what not only carried me through the week, but also made a huge difference in my ability to come out feeling okay on the other side.

And since that day was the focus of my week, my letter to Bruce seems to be the best thoughts I can share with you today…

Hey Babe!
Nine years… My that’s hard to believe. Sometimes it feels like it happened yesterday, and on other days it feels like forever. It’s strange, I know, but this year has been especially tough. I still miss you so much it hurts to even breathe at times. Yet… here I am… still here… So, there must be a reason.

It’s funny but I learned a few things today… First of all, even though I feel very much alone in all of this, I’m not. There are a lot of people around me who may not totally “get it”, but as the saying goes, “Compassion does not require understanding.” These are the people who are here for me… They care, and they love me.

I am not alone.

Second, grieving is a long process… and that’s okay. As long as I am moving forward and grounded in my reality, it is okay to take as much time as I need. I don’t need to rush through it or squash down my feelings to make someone else more comfortable. I, also, don’t need to throw it in anyone’s face, but it’s okay to work through this on my terms and in my own way.

Third, I’ve been saying for years that I wish I could just spend a day dealing with things my way – spending the whole day in bed crying if I feel like it. (Something I have never let myself do before, mainly because I am too scared I would never be able to stop and get back up.) Today, however, I stayed in bed most of the morning – crying, talking to you, and just getting a lot of crap off my chest – stuff I’ve been holding in for a long time. Then, I took my time doing only what I wanted, when I wanted… and it felt great!

Fourth, I love spending time at our beach and in our home, because I can feel you in both places. I went for a long walk on an (almost) empty beach. I went to the spot where we had your memorial service and where your ashes were scattered off-shore. I could almost feel you beside me. Yet, when I am here in our space, whether it’s porch sittin’ or in my reading chair, or in our room… I do feel you… I know you are here, and I know you can hear me when I talk to you. I can’t imagine being anywhere else.

And finally…

“Not everything that’s been taken from us was by the hand of God. But when I mentally place each and every loss in His hands, it can be redeemed… Loss is never the end of the story.” ~ Lysa Terkeurst, Forgiving What You Can’t Forget

I’m counting on that, Babe… I love you – Always and Forever!!

Grief is hard. It changes us in ways we could never have prepared for, and in ways no one else might understand. This journey is not an easy path for anyone… and this week for me, it was definitely 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. Life is now 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 since Bruce passed. This past week held a huge challenge for me. My goal now, though, is to let myself feel what I feel. At the same time, my other goal is to look at this life before me and find the joy and the hope life holds… And to hold onto that with everything I have.

Thanks to you, I know I am not alone… None of us are… 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.

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Peace, Love, and Grief… Heartbreak

“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

It is just a few days until the 9th anniversary of Bruce’s death, and I am struggling. I have cried more in the last week, than I can remember for a long time. I may tell the world I am fine… But on the inside, I am crumbling… absolutely crumbling.

Even though that date is still a few days away, already that seems to be the one thing I can’t stop thinking about. It’s so strange, I know. One minute I feel okay – I may even be laughing – and the next, all I want to do is cry… That’s all I really want to do – just let go and cry… and cry… and cry… until there are no more tears left to cry.

All I can think about is that night… Watching him die… trying everything I knew to help him… but failing… I failed! I called 911, did CPR, watched as EMS took over… And yet, that damn line on that machine stayed flat. No matter what they tried, it never moved. He was gone… I knew he was gone, but I didn’t want to know.

I remember the ride to the hospital, and the doctor’s words, “He’s gone.” I remember all of it – the lights, the smells, all the different people sent to “comfort” me… But there was no comfort. It was more like walking through a bad dream. You know that kind I’m talking about? The kind of dream where everything is just awful, and no matter how hard you try, you just can’t wake up. Everyone around you is busy and talking, as if everything were absolutely normal. But you know… it’s all wrong…

And it still feels that way. It still feels wrong to be here without him.

I hate this… I really do. I have so much I want to tell him… so much I want to share with him… But I can’t… And when I remember that I hurt and I cry all over again. The total despair I have felt since that night… the despair I can’t seem to shake seems to haunt the corners of every thought during this time of year.

Everyone else is talking about the new year and resolutions and new beginnings… And all I can think is I just need to survive this again… My world will never know the kind of joy we shared again… And when I realize that MY. HEART. HURTS.

It seems like every year, (even though on all the other days, I feel I am doing better), these days are a struggle. They are a reminder of my greatest loss… and my greatest failure.

I know I need to pull myself together. I need to make myself think of other things. Yet, I think that in order to pick up the pieces of my heart and move forward, I may need to let myself spend a few days feeling what I feel without worrying about what someone else thinks.

Yes… it has been nine years. At the same time, though, it still hurts like it was yesterday. I don’t know how to stop that hurt… All I know is I still love him… And I believe I will always love him.

Grief is hard. It changes us in ways we could never have prepared for, and in ways no one else might understand. This journey is not an easy path for anyone… and this time of year, for me, it is definitely 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. Life is now 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 since Bruce passed. This next few week will hold a huge challenge for me. My goal is to let myself feel what I feel. At the same time, my other goal is to look at this life before me and find the joy and the hope life holds… And to hold onto that with everything I have.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… 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.

* 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… Another New Year

It’s hard to believe that another year has come and gone… Another New Year’s Eve behind me… Another night spent wondering what life would be like if Bruce were still here…

Before Bruce, I rarely celebrated New Year’s Eve. It’s one of those things that my family never celebrated when I was growing up… It was just another day with the only tradition to mark its passing that of black-eyed peas and collards for dinner. (And I hate collards, so I always kind of dreaded it! LOL!) Then during my first marriage, I was just too tired for a late-night party after all the energy expended on Christmas with an ever-growing family. I do remember a couple of years when we went to a party, but those were usually based around my ex-husband’s business and its customers – not a party just for fun, but one with a business goal in mind. That was fine. It was what put bread on our table. My point is that New Year’s Eve just didn’t have any significance in my life… until Bruce.

We met on a cruise which ran from the day after Christmas until New Year’s Day. That New Year’s Eve is one I will never forget. After a week of getting to know one another, Bruce and I danced the night away on the deck of that sailing schooner. We even toasted and kissed at midnight. Then someone walked past us and made a comment that they thought there was something more than a ship-board romance between us. I’ll never forget… Bruce looked me in the eye and said he agreed. He wanted to take things further after the cruise was over.

That would be such a sweet New Year’s Eve story if I stopped there. However, to be honest, it kind of freaked me out in the moment, and I actually ran and hid in my cabin. (Because that is what a logical, mature woman does, right? Good grief! Sometimes I am ridiculous!) Obviously, we worked things out, because 10 months later we were married. So for me, New Year’s Eve will always be the start of “us”.

In the years that followed, we tended to make New Years a private affair. Bruce usually cooked lobster or crab legs for dinner, and we always stayed up and watched the ball drop in NY City. Then we usually ended the night with a slow romantic dance – usually to Rod Stewart’s Have I Told You Lately. It was quiet, but it suited us.

Now jump forward to December 31, 2012. Bruce had to work, so I spent the day alone. Our neighbors, though, had invited us to a small party at their house. So, Bruce made sure he was home in time for us to go. We were only going to stay for an hour or two, though, because he had to be at work the next day at 5 am.

It was such a fun night. We laughed. We danced. We celebrated with friends… And we stayed way longer than planned. Before we left to come back home, we kissed and toasted as the year rolled into 2013. Then once we were home, we danced one more time… I swear, if I close my eyes, I can almost feel his arms around me as we slowly turned in time to the music… one last time…

The next day, Bruce decided to call out from work – something he never did. As we lay in the bed that first morning of 2013, he pulled me close as he told me that that was the way he wanted to spend the entire year – with me in his arms. I felt like I was in heaven… It was the best New Years ever!

But life had other plans, and a few weeks later, Bruce was gone. No longer a part of my world or my life.

Ever since, New Years has held a certain bittersweet, melancholy for me. My kids have been great about including me in their plans each year, and I always have a good time. Yet, somewhere in my heart there is a hole that is never filled. This year, though, for the first time in a long time, I found myself alone for New Years. Turns out, I was exposed to Covid this past week, and while I am vaccinated and boosted, I know that doesn’t apply to everyone. I don’t think I could handle it if someone got sick, because I spread it around. So I made the choice to stay home until I know it is safe.

However, that means it has been a very quiet New Year’s Eve and Day. I am sure I have probably been in my own head too much. All I keep thinking is how much I still miss him… And how lonely life can be without him… And I can’t help but wonder what life would be like if he had been here beside me for one more dance and to toast another year together… another year of “us”.

I miss you, Babe!

Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone… 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. Life is now 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 Bruce passed. These next few weeks will hold many challenges for me, but my goal is to look into this new year before me and find the joy and the hope life holds.

* 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.

Peace, Love, and Grief… Being Hopeful

“Sometimes you have to let go of the picture of what you thought it would be like and learn to find joy in the story you are actually living.” ~ Rachel Marie Martin

Sometimes I think this is what the grief journey is really all about… Letting go of what was and what was supposed to be and finding joy in what is. We all change and grow throughout our lives, or at least, we are supposed to. But for most of us, those changes are slow… they happen over time. This gives us a chance to adapt as we move forward, and it gives those around us time to adapt to the changes in us as well.

The problem with losing a loved one is that the change happens fast… real fast… like “in-a-moment” fast. We have no time to adapt… And if we are struggling with the change, no wonder those around us struggle at the changes in us too. We want things to be as they were. They want us to be as we were. However, neither of those things are possible anymore… Our lives are forever changed, and so are we.

After Bruce died, I think one of the biggest adjustments was that my “person” was no longer here. In a healthy relationship, the other partner becomes our priority. It was no different for Bruce and me. I was his priority, and he was mine. We were always looking out for the other – putting them first, building them up, looking out for what could make their world a little bit better. But the moment he died, I lost that. My “person” was no longer here. I had no one to be my priority, and I was no longer the priority in anyone else’s world. No matter who… no matter what…

Logically, I knew this was just the way life would be. I understand it (logically). It’s a little harder when it is played out, though. It’s odd, I guess. I can’t say that I was a priority to anyone before Bruce. At that time, though, it was okay. That was just life… I didn’t know any different. But then when Bruce came along, and I learned and experienced a love that was totally committed. That was such a new and different experience for me. I really did feel like I had walked into a fairy tale, and we would live “happily ever after.”

When that didn’t happen, I struggled just to “be” … just to exist…

Several months after he died, I started working with a life coach. I can’t say we really worked on my grief. Instead, we worked on how to live life again… At the time, I was just trying to survive. To get up each day and do the things life required of me. She taught how to be not only a functioning human but to look for the joy in each day and each moment. It started with a whole conversation about “be-ing” – about movement and change that is a part of life. An understanding that we are human “be-ings” – meaning our calling is to “be” … to grow… to move forward… She taught me to look at the things happening around me, and to lean into those moments that bring me joy in order to sustain me through the harder moments.

For the most part, I think I do pretty well… This time of year, though, is a little bit harder. Now, add onto to that the fact that this is my first holiday season alone again in years – not necessarily a bad thing, but it adds a few challenges to my thought processes. This Advent season, I find myself needing to work just a little bit harder to hang onto those joy-filled moments. Otherwise, I don’t know how I would get through some of the lonelier times.

In my Advent readings this year, the author has talked a lot about hope, which makes sense. That’s what Advent is – a time of hope… a time of waiting for something better to come. This, I guess, is my current struggle, because in the moment when I became a widow all of my hope was gone. I have had the best – Bruce, and after all these years, I don’t really know how to hope anymore… but I want to…

Over the years, I have learned to feel joyful again… It was tough, and it took time, but I did it. Now, I really want to find hope again. Be-ing a widow may have stolen my hope in the beginning, but that doesn’t mean I can’t find it again. It doesn’t mean I need to spend the rest of my life feeling the best has already happened… And so that has become my goal… To let go of past expectations, and to learn how to have hope again.

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.

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.