mourner – Page 16 – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love and Grief… What do you do with “the stuff?”

From the very beginning, grief seems to be a constant battle concerning “what do I do about ____?” One could spend hours, maybe days filling in that blank. There are so many things that pop up, and immediately, you find yourself asking, “What do I do about that?” (Grief finds you so unprepared!)

I tend to be a research fanatic so even from the start I always went straight to my books or the internet looking for the “proper” answer… society’s answers. What would society tell me is the “right” response?… The “acceptable” behavior?

It’s funny, but nine times out of ten, my research would produce a “do-what’s-right-for-you” answer. That was reassuring, but the problem was this…

So many people in my life had not experienced loss like this yet and had not read the same research. They had their own ideas of what I should do. Up until a few months ago, that was devastating to me, because I wanted to be a “good widow” and do “what’s right.” But at the same time, I needed to be true to me… true to my heart.

Nowadays, I must admit, I don’t really care what society says is right or what someone else thinks I should do… I don’t really pay any attention or let it get to me. I appreciate that everyone has an opinion, but only because that means I do too… and mine is as valid as anyone else’s. In fact, I’ve come to realize that for me and my situation, mine is the only valid opinion.

For example, when Bruce passed away, he (obviously) left his “stuff” behind. He was a minimalist, so there wasn’t a lot, which only made those few items seem more precious to me.

In the first few weeks, I was too numb to even accept that he was gone. How could I even consider divvying up his belongings? I knew I wasn’t the only one grieving, and I knew others wanted something of his to remember him by, but I wasn’t ready… I couldn’t do it. People asked, and I said, “No.”

I wasn’t trying to be cruel or unfeeling. But, I had not come to terms with his death yet… There was a huge part of me that still expected him to walk through the door at any minute. How could I give away his stuff?

As I said, I did a lot of reading about what was the “right” thing to do. I found that some families actually went and cleared out the house without asking the widow(er) while they were out. Some people were okay with that; others were devastated. (I know myself… I would have been furious!) Thankfully, my family did not do this! (In fact, they never moved a single item without asking.)

Other widow(er)s came straight home from the funeral and packed up everything themselves. (But this was their choice, not someone else’s.) Still others left everything exactly as is for years, (even after remarrying). I knew none of those felt right for me. Then one day, I found a writer who said she had gone through things a little at a time, as she was ready.

Now, that was for me!

It took me months before I could actually start giving his things away with a loving heart and no regrets. The first few items went to his daughter, his parents and his sisters. Then, a few items to my kids and our grandson. After the one year mark, I knew I was ready to go through the rest of it and make some decisions.

I have a wonderful neighbor/friend who came and sat with me as I went through each item, one by one. She didn’t pick up things and take over, or tell me what to do… She was just there for support. If I asked about something, she would look at it objectively (with her expertise in antiques and collectibles) and give me an appraiser’s opinion. But she never told me what to do with it. She was just there to listen (as I shared memories), give me hugs and hand me tissues.

I spent a weekend going through everything of his. This may sound strange but there were a lot of boxes that I had never looked inside. Bruce was a very private man, and we had married later in life. So, I had always considered certain things private and respected that. I always felt that if and when he wanted to share the items in those boxes with me, he would.

But then he was gone… now, I had to do this myself. I must say that when I opened these boxes, I felt like I was invading his privacy on the one hand, and yet on the other hand, I was learning so much more about the man I love and what he thought was precious. In some ways, I was meeting a part of him for the first time… To say it was felt a bit strange would be an understatement.

“They” say, “Dead men don’t keep secrets.” (“They” aren’t kidding.) There were so many things about Bruce that made sense to me after going through these boxes… These boxes of things he found precious and important enought to keep. I had always loved him, but I came to understand him so much better.

By the end of the weekend, I had three piles… one to donate, one of specific items to give to specific people and one of items to keep. I placed several items on his dresser in our room as a memorial. It is still there today, and I look at these things each day… They remind me of everything that is Bruce. In the middle, there is a candle that I lit everyday for 2.5 years. (Currently, I only light it on special occasions… or when I just want to.)

T-shirts and jeans were his mode of dress. (He only owned one collared shirt… and no tie.) If we went somewhere that required more than a t-shirt, that was a formal occasion! So, I kept all of his t-shirts. Initially, I thought I would make a blanket from these. However, after three years, I find myself still sleeping in them… It is my way of feeling as if he is still holding me at night.

In addition, I kept his jacket and a couple of his favorite sweatshirts. (When I am having a “hard” day, I wear these to feel him close to me… It helps.) I also kept a few other items in a very small plastic bin. These are things such as his favorite hat, a uniform shirt, some personal items and the shoes he wore when we got married.

For the most part these items are just here… part of the backdrop of my life. But when I am having a rough day (or night), they bring me comfort. I can remember my grandmother doing the same at age 90+. I know some people may find these things strange, but I also know it’s all okay.

I know that I am doing the best I can each day… and that is good enough.

If you have experienced loss, you have probably been through this, too. This is our community, so please, share your story with us. Feel free also to share your thoughts and experiences by going to the comments and leaving a note.*

Maybe you did something different… There is no one right answer. Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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… Old Year’s Night/New Year’s Eve

Where we’ve been and where we’re going… That is what the transition between December 31 and January 1 represents for so many of us. For those of us dealing with loss, it also means preparing for the reality of another year without our loved one(s).

In fact, even with my life moving in a more positive direction, I still miss and love Bruce. I still find myself wishing for “what was” instead of “what is.’ My journal entry for December 31 states it best:

Hi Babe! As I prepare to face another year without you next to me, I struggle. I miss you so much it still hurts – physically as much as emotionally. There is still a huge part of me that can’t believe you are gone (even after 3 years). There are so many sweet memories and I am so thankful for those. I, also, know your spirit will always be with me… will always be a part of me, but it’s not the same. I miss you! I would still give anything to have you here – physically beside me… I still love you so much!

So this week, while I find myself facing the beginning of 2016, I have looked back in order to decide how best to move forward.

Before Bruce, I was never really one for resolutions or parties. Even after we were married, the New Year wasn’t really anything significant for either of us. Honestly, with the exception our first two and the last New Year’s Eve, we didn’t really make a big deal of the Old Year/New Year thing. The first two, we spent in the Virgin Islands… The first was New Year’s Eve on board the ship where we met. (I wrote about that last week.) The second was Old Year’s Night at Foxy’s on Jost van Dyke. (Same cruise, only this time it was our honeymoon.)

Our last New Year’s Eve together was spent at a neighbor’s party. Bruce had worked late and had to work again the next day, so I thought he wouldn’t want to go. However, when he came home, he insisted he wanted to go. So, we agreed to go for about an hour. To my surprise (and delight), once we were there Bruce insisted we were having too much fun to leave. We laughed and danced together all night. Now, I have the most precious memories of that night – holding each other, laughing, dancing… not a care in the world – simply being present in the moment and loving it. To top it off the next morning, Bruce did something he never did… He called out to work and stayed home to “spend the first day of the new year with his ‘wifey'” (me). This simple gesture left me feeling so honored and loved.

The next year was my first year without Bruce. It was the year I did not celebrate anything. My son and I had rented a yacht in Key West to “escape” Christmas and returned home early that evening. My neighbor insisted that we come to his party again, but it wasn’t the same… not for me. My heart just wasn’t in it. The last thing I felt like doing was celebrating the start of a New Year without Bruce.

Jump ahead to last year… I met up with a childhood friend, I had not seen in over 30+ years. We spent the evening reminiscing about the past and talking about the present. Several things came up in conversation that night that changed 2015 into a positive year for me. Two of those things have stood out for me as the biggest game changers this year.

First, my friend suggested I write this blog about loss and grief… “Tell the real story,” he said. The real story – including the pain, the hurt, the awkwardness, the struggles, the things that are said (that shouldn’t be), the things left unsaid, the surprises… everything.

Why? Because as a society, we really don’t talk about death or grief. We have let Hollywood “romanticize” it, if you will, and that is way off base from the reality. My intention and hope was (and is) to be honest and build a space where anyone dealing with loss and grief can realize that their experience is “normal” even if it isn’t the “Hollywood” version… And most important – to feel safe sharing their experiences, as well.

Second, my friend suggested a “theme” for the year versus a resolution. Why not a resolution? According to research, 93% of resolutions are abandoned within the first month. Why is that? Because we tend to make our resolutions based on what we “perceive” we should do (lose weight, exercise more, etc) versus what we have an inner drive or passion to do. In other words, working toward our life’s purpose… And for me that meant sharing my experience with others with the hope of helping.

So 2015 became my year of “Celebration, Creation and Contribution.”

This mantra played out in so many ways for me… I Celebrated (really celebrated – not just observed) every holiday, including the anniversary of Bruce’s death. (You’ll hear about that later this month.)

I have always been a Creative person, but when Bruce died I put most of that aside. It seemed to take everything in me just to keep breathing. However, this year, I made the decision to change that… I started painting, playing piano and singing again. I even started writing (despite being told all my life I am “not a writer.”) In fact, thinking creatively has given me the confidence to look past the “good” opinions of other people. This, in turn, has opened so many opportunities for me.

And finally, Contribution… This was the year to be vulnerable – to pull outside of myself and do something for others. Refusing to stay focused on my own situation was hard at first. I had to “fake it till I made it” for a good portion of the year. But a few months ago, it actually clicked… it became heartfelt. I love the things that I can do to help others, especially life/development coaching and this blog. Contributing to the world around me has taught me to love and accept everyone around me… to send peace and love where before I might have responded with judgment or anger.

My thought from the beginning has been: if I could help even one other person, then it would be worthwhile. From the messages I receive, it appears that this year of Celebration, Creation and Contribution has made a difference in at least a few lives. In truth, though, even if it hadn’t, I know it made a huge difference in my own life. I have learned firsthand that focusing on myself causes me to be stagnant or spiral down… feeling alone and abandoned. But when I focus on someone else’s needs instead of my own, we can move forward together and connected.

What about you? What one small decision or change can you make to move forward? If you are on the healing side of grief, what did you do to move forward?

Would you be willing to share your story or thoughts? To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… your story may the answer for someone else.

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… The Best Christmas Present

The year was 2004. The day was December 26. I will always remember this as the day I received the best Christmas gift ever. My son and I were off on what I thought was to be a week-long adventure to the Virgin Islands. This adventure, however, lasted much longer than a week… It changed my life.

We flew from SC to St. Thomas and boarded an old sailing schooner christened The Legacy. (If I had been writing a novel, I could not have added better foreshadowing, for the legacy Bruce left is what continues to shape my life.) We were all given a Rum Punch, ushered into the dining room and given forms to fill out for the different ports we would visit.

There were several people at our table. The crewman, in his haste, dropped off a pile of forms for all of us but no pens or pencils. As a teacher (at the time), I always carried a handful of pens and pencils. So, I quickly pulled them out of my backpack and started offering them to the people seated around me.

As fate would have it, Bruce was seated right next to me. He declined, however, and pulled out his own pen. In fact, as the rest of us joked and talked, he sat quietly and filled out his forms – listening but not really taking part in the banter. “Too bad,” I remember thinking. No matter, though… it was a very small ship and within just a few hours we ran into each other again.

It was a magical week for me… the beauty of the islands, time with my son and this new person who made me smile without even trying. The connection between us was so easy and natural. By the end of the week, even the other passengers were taking notice and making comments.

One of these comments was spoken directly to us the last night of the cruise, New Year’s Eve. Someone casually walked by and said, “You two seem to really have something… don’t let it go.” (That threw me a bit,… I hadn’t thought that far ahead.)

Bruce, however, not only took it in stride, he looked me in the eye and added, “They’re right. There is something pretty amazing between us. I don’t want to lose it.” I was shocked… terrified, actually. I had just spent 20 years in a violent marriage and another 3.5 fighting for a divorce. All I wanted was peace in my life… The last thing I was looking for was another relationship.

So, true to my (old) form, I ran away.

Not literally… In reality, I was not nearly so dramatic. I just excused myself and went back to my cabin. However, the next morning, as everyone was preparing to disembark, I told Bruce it wasn’t going to work. I remember many of the excuses I blurted out: “I had fought too long and too hard to be on my own to give it up again.” “We were too different.” “We lived too far apart.” And on and on…

He didn’t argue. True to his own nature, he gave me a gentle kiss and quietly walked away. (Later he was to tell me that he spent a few extra days in St. Thomas watching The Legacy at port. He said he just kept thinking if it was meant to be, it would work out… and he was hoping it was meant to be.) I, however, cried all the way home… somehow I knew I had just walked away from the best thing that had ever happened to me.

But the story (as you know) doesn’t end there.

I sent Bruce an email almost as soon as we were home, told him I had really enjoyed our time together and asked if we could be friends. I added that if I didn’t hear back from him, I understood and would always treasure our week together. Jump ahead 1 month and I was flying to Michigan to see if this thing between us was real or just a ship-board romance… By the end of the weekend, we both knew this was a forever thing. Jump ahead 10 more months and we were married.

Bruce opened up my life like a flower in spring. I experienced real, unconditional love. I learned how a healthy man functions and what a healthy marriage really is. Throughout our marriage, I grew in so many ways. Some of the biggest changes were my self-esteem, my self-confidence and (biggest of all) learning to trust. I loved Bruce with every part of my being and told him daily that he was my hero and the best Christmas present I had ever received.

When Bruce passed away on January 12, 2013, my world went dark. It was completely unexpected, and I found myself thrown backwards emotionally. It was as if all those things I learned with Bruce were gone… my self-esteem, my confidence and my ability to trust… all gone. Not only could I not move forward, I seemed to be spiraling down further and further as time passed.

But that is still not the end of the story…

Even after all those years together, there was still so much about Bruce I didn’t know or understand. I had always recognized that Bruce had an inner peaceful quality that I didn’t have. There wasn’t much that could shake him… he just seemed to take life in stride. Whenever I was stressed or worried, he would remind me that “the river never tries to move the rocks… it just flows around them.” At the time, I used to roll my eyes and tell him he didn’t get it. He would just smile and hug me.

As I found myself at my lowest point, I could hear him repeating this phrase in my mind… and I must say, the rocks in my river were feeling more like boulders. I decided I wanted to know more… I had to know more. So, I have spent the last couple of years, learning about my husband and what made him tick. I have listened to the lectures he listened to; I have read the books he read… And I have come to truly understand the man I married and love.

This past year, I have started traveling down the path Bruce made for me… his legacy for me. My life is once again moving forward in a positive direction because of Bruce. So here I am, as I write this blog on December 26, 2015 – the anniversary of the day we met – knowing without a doubt that I was right all along…

He really was the best Christmas present ever.

This link below is to a song that describes it best. It was the last song we danced to on Christmas Night 2012, just a few short weeks before he passed.

When we lose someone, our lives change drastically. The aspects they added to our life seem to be gone forever. But as time passes, we can learn to pull the best of those aspects into our own lives.

Have you ever felt that way? What did you do? Would you be willing to share your story or thoughts? To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… your story may the answer for someone else.

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… Learning to sing again

Music has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. At four years old, I was started singing in our church’s children’s choir. At seven, I started piano lessons. In middle school, band was added to the agenda, and in High School I added singing competitively and musicals to a world I loved.

In truth, music was my outlet. It was how I worked through my emotions. As a teenager, I would play out my emotional highs and lows on the piano, and as an adult, I would utilize either the piano or singing. Whatever I was feeling, music was a safe place to express myself.

This love for music extended into my adult life. My kids and music were my life. I taught music in a small parochial school, directed show choirs, directed childrens’ choirs, sang in adult choirs, was a member of the Director’s Guild, sang as cantor at our church and taught voice and piano lessons.

When Bruce and I married, I moved to Michigan. This meant a change in my job, but singing was still a major part of my life. Music was so much a part of who I was that I could not imagine a day without it.

Then Bruce died and the light in my world went dark… I stopped playing piano. I stopped singing. It was as if my music was gone, too. My poor parents tried many times to convince me that I just needed to try. They tried to remind me how much music had helped me in the past, but I couldn’t…

I don’t mean I wouldn’t… I mean I couldn’t – really and truly, physically couldn’t. I would try to turn on the radio and just sing along but nothing would come out… except tears. I didn’t know how to explain it to anyone including myself. (Evidently, this is a common response to stress, but I didn’t know that at the time.)

Whenever someone would bring it up, I would respond, “I don’t sing anymore – not since Bruce died,” and leave it at that. I also tried playing piano but that usually just ended in a crying session. After a while, I just accepted that this was one of those changes I needed to accept… Bruce was gone. My music was gone. I just needed to move on with my life.

After a few months, I learned to use other creative outlets for my grief, such as painting or gardening. These were quiet endeavors that allowed me to get lost inside my own head… I’m not sure – perhaps I am over-analyzing it, but I think I was struggling so hard to keep from falling completely apart that I needed the outlet to be quiet… controlled, if you will. That way I could keep myself together and not “go off the deep end.”

I remember about a year after Bruce passed away, I opened a fortune cookie and it read, “You have music inside you. Let it out.” I remember smiling and thinking, “Not yet… I’m not ready.” A few months later I was listening to Wayne Dyer when he said, “Don’t die with your music still in you.” (Yes, I am aware that he was referring to one’s life purpose, but it really struck home with me.)

That lasted for almost two years… Two years of no songs… just silence. Until…

Until last Christmas, when I decided to participate in Christmas again. As I wrote recently, one of the first things that triggered the Christmas season for me in the past was playing the first Christmas music of the year on Thanksgiving Day. I spent last Thanksgiving with one of my daughters, her husband and my grandson, and true to tradition, they did the same.

At first I cringed a little bit… I wasn’t sure how to respond until I heard a sweet child’s voice. My little Bubba singing as loud as he could and filled with more joy than I could imagine.

I smiled, said a quick prayer, took a deep breath, opened my mouth and… (wait for it….) sang along. : ) In fact, we all sang all weekend. I even sang all the way home. I don’t know how to explain how victorious it felt to be able to sing and express myself again in a way that is pure joy and fun for me.

This year, my life has taken a completely new direction. As I have moved more and more into the life coaching realm, I know without a doubt my life’s purpose now is one of serving and helping others. While I don’t feel called to make music the central focus of my life again, having it back in my life gives me a fun outlet that feels like an old familiar friend.

I, also, know that my creativity helps me approach life in a more positive way… and all because of the sweet innocence and love of a child.

When we lose someone, our lives change drastically. Did you feel you lost something that had been an integral part of who you were? What did you do? Would you be willing to share your story or thoughts? To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… your story may the answer for someone else.

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… What do you do with the stocking?

From what I see in my neighborhood and on Face Book, most of us have already decked our halls… I did mine after I returned from my Thanksgiving trip. Inititally, I wasn’t going to decorate this year. Not to avoid the holiday, it just seems like a huge amount of work, and I’m the only one to see it.

“I’ll just put up the Christmas Village,” I thought. Then, it was the nutcrackers… As I opened each container, I found myself smiling as I remembered Christmases past with Bruce and my kids. It was such a beautiful, bittersweet trip, I ended up decorating after all… But this experience was quite different from last year’s.

That first year, I ignored Christmas, so there was nothing to think about. Last year, though, I thought I was ready until I opened that first container… and there right on top, was Bruce’s stocking… Right where I had packed it after our last Christmas together… A Christmas when I thought we still had the rest of our lives to celebrate this holiday over and over.

Journal Entry – Dec 2, 2014

Hi Babe… feeling down… really struggling and missing you. Yesterday was okay – good actually… Until I started some Christmas decorating last night. : ( I thought I was ready. I thought I would be okay, but it broke me. I didn’t do Christmas last year, so this is my first time unpacking this stuff since you died. And since this box represents our last few weeks together, the memories are bittersweet and the tears seem to be endless. All I managed to get out were two nativity sets, the light brick and the stocking holders. (What am I going to do with those?) Hang one stocking? Do I hang yours? I don’t know what to do there… What do I do? I cried myself to sleep and woke up still crying. I’m not very good at this whole widow/grief thing. I can’t seem to just “move on.” I still love and miss you so much! How can this be my life? How can you be gone? How does someone with so much love and life just cease to exist? I don’t think I will ever understand this.

I keep remembering how much you loved Christmas – all the decorations and the music… your big ole’ grin when you watched me decorate or when you put on the Christmas music; your big smile that first Christmas when you laid on your belly in the snow to cut down the tree my youngest daughter had picked; how much you loved all the treats (even though you swore you didn’t eat sweets) and how excited you got about getting me the “perfect” gift. You loved the fact that this season was all about family and that was what you celebrated. When we were in Michigan, your folks would be there for the whole month and we would spend as much time as possible with them. This was also the time we would spend a week with my family back home. All that is gone now… It was you, Babe. You brought the magic to our lives and now you’re gone. Now I don’t know what to do. I’m so lost… I thought I could do this, but now… I don’t know.

Journal Entry – Dec 3, 2014

Hey Babe! Wow! Yesterday was tough. I didn’t leave the house all day… Shoot – I couldn’t stop crying all day. I’m still kind of emotionally tender today, but definitely doing better today. The stocking thing really threw me for a loop. I ended up going on-line and searching. Turns out, my reaction is common… What to do with the stocking throws a lot of us for a loop. There were all kinds of ideas and suggestions. I’m going with the only one that made me smile when I read it. I’m hanging your stocking and placing paper next to it. Then, I am going to write Christmas memories on the paper (as I remember or people send them) and place them in the stocking. I’ve already had three people send memories. : ) It makes me smile. I still cried some, but I managed to finish the decorating. I still wish you were here… you loved all of this… I don’t know about next year, but this will work for this year.

So… What am I doing this year? The same… Bruce’s stocking is right next to mine – where it belongs. The paper is there and I am writing and adding memories as I remember them. This year I wasn’t caught off-guard, and the memories make me smile. I still wish he were here. I probably always will because I still love and miss him.

Over the past few months, gratitude has become a part of my new mantra, so instead of crying over what is lost, I am thankful for what was… for all the wonderful memories of those Christmases past.

And, believe it or not, I find myself looking forward to whatever new memories are waiting to be made.

Have you ever found yourself caught off-guard like this? What did you do? Would you be willing to share your story or thoughts? To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… your story may the answer for someone else.

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… Lessons learned at Thanksgiving – part 2

Painting Life

For a painting to truly reflect life, it must include the shadows.
For a painter to paint, she must not try to control the brush.
She must only hold the brush and choose where to move it.
The brush must flow its own way – the way it is intended in order to creat a beautiful painting.
Otherwise, the painting will be stilted and awkward…
only a poor image of the beauty available.
To reach one’s own potential and live a full life, accept the shadows;
do not strive to control.
Let go…
Then the true beauty of your life will be seen.

~ Linda, October 26, 2013

As I mentioned last week, I spent Thanksgiving week visiting my oldest daughter across the Atlantic. There was a lot that happened that week… A lot of laughing, a lot of heart to heart conversations, learning to trust and love again and what I want to talk about this week…

recognizing the beauty created through the pain in our lives.

One of the things that absolutely amazed me during my visit was my daughter and her husband’s knowledge of the wild birds and plants that we passed on our hikes through the countryside. They would hear a bird’s song and know right away what type of bird they were looking for to match the songs. (Too cool for words!) They would also pick the leaves of a plant and hand it to me to taste and say, “That will taste like a green apple”… or “sweet peas”… and it did! (Wow!)

One day when it was just my daughter and I, she pointed out some lavender growing wild along a brick wall. I love the scent of lavender and have it throughout my house. However, I have never seen it growing in the wild. It is such a lovely plant. I picked a small piece and took a whiff, but couldn’t smell anything.

“I can’t smell it,” I said.

“You have to crush it a little… then you’ll be able to smell it,” she responded.

So I crushed it just a bit between my fingers and took another whiff… It smelled heavenly – such a soft, sweet, calming fragrance. As we kept walking, I started thinking… isn’t that just like life. So many times in order to realize our own true potential, we need to be crushed a little bit. There has to be some struggle along the way or we can never know what we are truly cabable of becoming.

I say this, but in all honesty, I would be perfectly happy to not be crushed… I’m kind of tired of that part. LOL! Learning to be thankful for the struggles in my life and recognizing the growth produced each time, has been a lesson I seem to be destined to learn over and over. But near the end of the week I came to realize that maybe I’m not the only one… maybe this applies to everyone – not just those who are grieving, but everyone.

During one of our heart to heart conversations, I told my daughter how proud I am of the woman she has become. She has such a gentle spirit and yet at the same time, she is so strong. Learning to live abroad – in another culture – and feel comfortable enough to call it “home” takes a lot of strength of character, self-reliance and patience. She blushed and shook her head as she told me how lonely she feels sometimes.

It was like listening to myself… So many of the things she said, I have said or thought a hundred times since Bruce died. It is a feeling where you know you are loved but there is still a feeling of separation from the people you love… an ever-present underlying feeling of facing the world alone. Whether that loneliness is physical or emotional doesn’t matter… Either way it is very real.

That was when it dawned on me just how real the idea of life’s struggles helping us reach our better selves truly is. I wasn’t a bad person before. (I don’t think.) But I know that since Bruce died, I have learned a lot about self-reliance and finding my happiness within myself… not from a store… or a bottle… or another person. I know that God has my back and has provided me with everything I need to get through this grief… and my life. Some days are harder than others and I struggle to remember that, but deep inside… I know it.

The struggles… the shadows of our life are what give us strength of character. It is how we learn to appreciate all the blessings in our life… those that make us smile right away and those that are the result our struggles.

Today has been a hard day… this will be my third Christmas without Bruce by my side. It is a hard reality, and today it is hard to see the blessing in it. But this I know…

I was blessed to share so many Christmases with Bruce and to have those memories. I know I am a better person because of knowing and loving Bruce. When I lost him, there were shadows created in the painting of my life that will always be there. But… those shadows also make the beauty of my life that much more intense…

and for that I can be thankful.

Have you ever grown because of a struggle? A time when you knew you had a choice to move forward or stay where you were? Would you be willing to share your story or thoughts? To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… your story may the one someone else needs to hear.

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… Learning to be thankful again

Next week is Thanksgiving… that means being thankful… saying, “Thank you” to God for all he has done for us…

For me, Thanksgiving always meant the beginning of the Christmas season. I always looked forward to watching the parade… my favorite part of the morning. Because we were always cooking, (no matter where we lived or how much trouble it was), Bruce would always move the TV so I could see it and enjoy the parade. As soon as the parade ended, I would (finally) get to play the first Christmas music. It was always the same CD, Peter Paul and Mary’s: A Holiday Celebration… Admittedly, still my favorite. Next came Bruce’s favorite, John Denver and the Muppets: A Christmas Together. After that it was usually time for football, food and family. It was always a wonderful day… one I loved and treasured…

until…

The first year after Bruce passed away, I skipped Thanksgiving. I was still so deep in grief that I couldn’t imagine saying “Thank you” to God. I still felt so abandoned… I was still so very angry. “Thank you” was not anywhere in me… not for this… not for a life without Bruce.

Instead, I spent that first Thanksgiving with my youngest daughter and her boyfriend at Disney. It worked. I was with family (a good thing) but I didn’t have to think about the holiday (mission accomplished).

I didn’t have to think about what it had been and what it would never be again.

Last year I got brave. The feelings of abandonment and anger were gone for the most part. My second daughter convinced me it was time to join the rest of the world and celebrate… and say “Thank you.”

I spent the holiday with her, my grandson and son-in-law. Here is a small part of what I wrote in my journal that day:

Hi Babe! I can’t believe it’s Thanksgiving – my second one without you. This year is hard because I miss you, but I feel welcome and wanted here… I feel loved! I decided to actually celebrate the day this year. We included you in our dinner by bringing in your picture and lighting six candles with the prayer I used each day when you first died.

It ended up being such a good day… tons of food and drink, the parade, playing with Bubba and NAPS! lol!

I came to realize last year that I can celebrate the holidays, but they are different now. So many of the traditions that were important are not as important now, while others are still intact as I share them with my kids and grandson.

But now there is a new tradition at each holiday… remembering Bruce. I mentioned it in the journal entry above and I will include it here. I am not sure where I found it… it is not my idea, but I love it. Perhaps you too are looking for a way to include your loved one this season…

Memorial prayer with 6 candles:

Prayer – We light six candles in honor of you.

(Light candle 1) – This candle represents our grief. The pain of losing you is intense. It is a reminder of the depth of our love for you.

(Light candle 2) – This candle represents our courage – to confront our sorrow, to comfort each other and to change our lives.

(Light candle 3) – This candle is in your memory – the times we laughed, the times we cried, the times we were angry with each other, the silly things we did and the caring and joy you gave us.

(Light candle 4) – This candle is the light of love. Day by day we cherish the special place in our hearts that will always be reserved for you. Thank you for the gift your life brought to each of us.

(Light candle 5) – This candle is the light of hope. It reminds us of love and memories of you that are ours forever.

(Light candle 6) – This candle is the light of eternity – for the day when we will see you again in all God’s glory. We will be together again. We will have healthy, whole bodies and can explore the wonders of heaven together.

May the light of the Lord be our source of hopefulness now and forever. I love you! Amen

This is my way of still including Bruce… my way of making sure he is not forgotten. How do you include your loved ones in your celebrations? I would love to hear from you… Please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

NOTE: Due to family time, I will be off schedule this week and next. I posted early this week and will be posting late next week. Thank you for understanding my need to enjoy my precious time with those I love.

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… What’s supposed to be and what is…

It still hurts
It’s so quiet here,
And I’m so alone.
I relive so many memories in my mind.
And for a moment, I can smile again.
Then, I breathe and open my eyes…
And once again, I am alone.
This sadness is never ending.
The pain can be unbearable.
Do you hear me when I call out to you?
I feel so horribly alone.
How long will this pain live inside me?
How long will I have to smile, when all I want to do is cry?
I find my self pulling ever further inward…
There is no one to understand.
They are not cruel…
They try… they care.
But they do not know how to comfort me…
They love me…
I love them…
But there is a chasm between them and me…
And another between me and you…
And it all hurts so bad.
~ Linda, November 4, 2015

Fall 2005 – Bruce and I had spent the entire summer together in Michigan. We already knew that we loved each other, but the summer showed us exactly how compatible and connected we were. As the summer ended, I went back to SC to teach. It didn’t take long, though, for us to realize that being apart was not going to work. However, we both had daughters in high school, and wanted to let them graduate before we did anything permanent.

Within a month of being home, I learned that I had lost everything. All the money I had invested with a family “friend” had been embezzled. I had 4 kids to take care of, an ex-husband who refused to pay child support, and a job that I loved but did not pay a livable wage… so without my investments there was not enough income. Bruce never hesitated. He wanted to move ahead with the marriage. I hesitated… I wanted us to get married because it was what WE wanted and WHEN we wanted it. He was quite convincing that it WAS what he wanted. I remember my mother telling me that it was a good thing… my kids would get the experience of witnessing a healthy marriage and having a loving male figure in their lives. For me, there was a knowing that the right thing was to stay on the path of love and happiness we were on… So, 2 weeks later, I agreed… I wanted it too…

There was Bruce… my hero… And he remained my hero from that day forward…

October came. I gave notice at my school, and we started planning for the move to Michigan. It all happened quite quickly. My oldest daughter had already graduated college and my second was away at college. My son was a senior in High School and already eighteen, so he moved in with his best friend’s family for the remainder of the school year. It was just my youngest daughter and I (and our cat) leaving. After two days, we arrived in Michigan late on Halloween night.

On November 9, 2005, (a Wednesday) at 3:30 PM at the county courthouse, Bruce and I were married. Because it all happened so quickly, the only people there were his parents, his daughter and my youngest daughter. I remember that it was a beautiful fall day. Afterward, we went back to the house for champagne and hors d’oeuvres. Then, dinner at a local restaurant. He had taken care of everything… I just had to show up. It was all so simple and so beautiful, and we were ecstatic…

(us immediately after the ceremony)

But…

It was not what we had originally planned. During the summer we had planned a beach wedding with both of our families beside us. Circumstances had changed that. But Bruce, always the hero, told me not to worry. For our ten year anniversary, we would have our beach wedding with everyone from both our families. It would be beautiful, and it would be special…

But that wasn’t meant to be.

This year would have been that tenth anniversary. Sadly, my hero didn’t make it that long.

This is my third anniversary without him, and (I think because it is the current one) it feels like the hardest. All week I have been thinking that I should be laughing… and happy… and planning a ten-year anniversary ceremony. Instead, I have been working hard not to twist reality into something it isn’t… It isn’t a punishment from God… It is just the cycle of life. I have wanted to reach out for help but I feel like I’m asking for more than anyone can handle. After all, it’s been almost 3 years now… How long does this go on?

The reality is losing a spouse is harder than one might think. This is the person you committed to love and share every intimate detail of your life with. So many people equate it with divorce, but it’s not even close. I’ve been divorced. It was hard too, but this is different. There are no choices with death. Also, with death, the relationship isn’t what died – it is only the physical connection that is cut off… the love is still there.

This week I have felt like I am back at square one… back in limbo – going through the motions of life as if I am in a dream – no purpose, no point… Like wondering through a dark house with no one to answer when you call out.

Last year I did a pretty good job celebrating the love we knew and not focusing on the sadness of loss. This year I plan to do the same. I will take a beer and some roses to the beach where Bruce’s ashes were scattered and spend some time with him. Then, I have reservations at the restaurant where we celebrated our last anniversary together.

Bruce was so excited to have found this tiny eclectic restaurant. He wouldn’t tell me where we were going, just that he knew I would love it… and I did. I remember on the way home I asked him if we could celebrate the rest of our anniversaries there. “Of course,” he smiled back… “Every one… from now on.” Two months later he was gone, but I do… I have returned every year to celebrate the love we shared. And every year, the restaurant staff is more than gracious to accommodate me… And I will celebrate “us” every year… from now on.

I am a little sad tonight (a few tears), and I think I will be sad tomorrow but that’s okay. It’s okay to feel what I feel… it is normal to be sad, and I will be okay… Mainly because of a conversation I had a couple of days ago. Someone I know was sharing a loss they had just experienced and stated that the worse part was the confusion and frustration that comes from having no choices in what happened. I would agree… (When Bruce died, I felt so angry and frustrated. I remember I told my friends “don’t let me become a bitter, angry, old woman… that’s not who I am or who I want to be.”)

Long after our conversation had ended, it dawned on me that one of the biggest lessons I’ve learned since Bruce died was born out of the love that we shared. It was Bruce’s legacy, and it is this:

None of us gets to choose what life tosses our way.
Our choice is:
“Can I love more today than yesterday, not despite what has happened,
but because what has happened.”
~ Linda, November 2015

How do you manage your big days? I would love to hear from you… Please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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… Halloween…

For most of my life (until Bruce died), Christmas was always my favorite holiday. However, the season always started way before December… For me, Halloween has always marked the beginning of a season filled with several holidays, big events and continual fun and excitement with Christmas being the climax. To this day, I am so very thankful for the last holiday season Bruce and I shared.

This weekend was Halloween… As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, it is the start of what has been an emotional roller coaster since Bruce passed. But this year as I prepare for the holiday, I find I can look back and find things that make me smile….

I remember in Michigan, there were no Trick or Treaters. We lived in a second floor condo which required a code to enter the building. There were no children in the building except my (then) teenage daughter and no way for anyone to enter.

When we moved to another state, we lived in an apartment for the first year and with the exception of my grandson and a group of teenagers (who knocked on our door at 10 PM) no one came. Then, we moved to the house where I am now.

I knew there were a lot of children in the neighborhood, so I bought three huge bags of candy and tried to prep Bruce for what was probably coming. All he heard was “candy.” As soon as he realized it was hidden in the house somewhere, it was “game on”… He went hunting, and found it in the third place he looked. (He laughed as he told me that the fact that I am so short narrowed the hiding places down by more than half. Then, he just had to think of where there might be enough space for three huge bags.) Needless to say, by Halloween, I had to replace one of those bags.

That Halloween, he grouched every time the doorbell rang. I laughed and fussed at him for being a crabby, old man. The next year – our last Halloween – was so different, though. He was so excited. He LOVED answering the door and talking to all the kids (even the teenagers). He even jumped out and tried to scare a few. It was such a fun night.

Now looking back, I don’t know if he was just trying to enjoy Halloween or if he knew something was wrong and wanted to leave me with some fun memories. Either way – all I know is it was a such a wonderful night!

The first year without Bruce was a change… a huge change. Actually, it was a challenge that I wasn’t expecting. After all, Halloween is a kid’s holiday. It really isn’t about adults, and in all honestly, we had only had one really fun Halloween together.

But even that first year, according to my journal I recognized that this would be the start of a rough few months…

(Written the morning of 10/31/2013)

“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.

People don’t get it… they can’t. They can’t because they haven’t been here yet. I feel like everyone has this expectation that I should be a ‘good little widow’ and just be okay… whatever that is! Guess what… I’m not! I’m not okay! My brain doesn’t analyze or function the same way anymore. I don’t feel like “me” anymore.

The weird part is yesterday was actually okay. It was the first day this week I didn’t cry all day. Then I wake 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.”

(Written the night of 10/31/2013)

“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.

Just so you know, Babe… I went to the neighbor’s for chili and wine earlier tonight. They are so sweet and kind to me. I am blessed to have them here. In case you’re wondering, they are taking good care of me, Babe.”

And now this year…

This year I spent Halloween with my grandson, one of my daughters and my son-in-law.

(Written on Sunday 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. Trick or Treating was pushed forward a day early since it was supposed to rain on Saturday. You would have loved watching our grandson… he was 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 D’s house. It sounds crazy but 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. Their German potato salad was good (but not as good as yours!) You would be proud… 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 held your hand and seen your face. You and your “Boudreaux” 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. Usually I feel like a fifth wheel at those things, but I didn’t this time. 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 mix of melancholy, sadness, loneliness and (believe it or not)… guilt. I miss you so much, Babe, and the idea that I still managed to have fun, leaves me feeling guilty. Crazy, I know but that is what I felt. I wonder if that is normal? I wonder if that will be the emotion I struggle with this year?”

I don’t know the answer to that question, although I would guess it is normal. If there is anyone out there who knows or has been there, I would love to hear from you… I’m sure there are a lot of us that would to hear from you.

In the meantime, I need to breathe… I have 8 days to get myself emotionally prepared for the next big day.

How do YOU manage your big days? I would love to hear from you… Please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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… Missing: Human Touch

Are you there?

Are you there?
Are you listening? Did you see me cry?
Have you felt my tears? My pain?

Are you there?
Are you holding me when I cry? When I am scared?
When I don’t want to take the next step?

Are you there?
Are you beside me as I lay sleeping? As I walk on the beach?
When I call your name in the dark?
You said you’d never leave me… So,
Are you there?

~ Linda, October 7, 2013

Perhaps you have heard of Gary Chapman’s book, The Five Love Languages. It’s an interesting look at relationships. According to Mr. Chapman, there are five basic ways that we can feel loved. He calls these “love languages”, and they are time, touch, words of affirmation, gifts and acts of service.

The basic idea is that, as individuals, we feel loved when our significant other uses our “love language.” In turn, we naturally tend to show love in our own “love language.” Sometimes couples will share the same love language. However, if you and your mate do not share the same love language, then you will both need to adjust how you show love in order to meet each person’s emotional needs within the relationship. (Keep in mind, this comes from a book. Obviously there is a lot more to it, but that is the basic idea.)

Bruce and I were blessed. We shared the same primary love language – touch.
We could sit for hours just holding hands or snuggling. We didn’t need to talk or even have the TV on… We were just content to be together. In the car, he always had one hand on the steering wheel and the other either holding mine or resting on my thigh. Even after 8 years, we would fall asleep in other’s arms and somehow end up back there again in the morning. We never walked by each other without reaching out and touching as we passed. Even if he was reclining in his chair, he would chuckle whenever I reached out and touched his toes while passing by.

If we were angry or upset with each other, it didn’t matter – the touching never stopped… because the love didn’t stop. It was just a natural extension of who we were as a couple – no matter the emotional current of the moment.

At the time, it seemed like such a small thing – touch. It didn’t cost anything. It wasn’t hard to do… It didn’t seem like anything huge or extraordinary. It was a small gesture that was as natural to both of us as breathing…

But now it is gone.

It may sound odd, but it is one of the things I miss most… probably because it was what made me feel loved and whole. But since Bruce has been gone, life is very different… Human touch has become a rare commodity in my world.

I try to get my “fixes” when I can. For example, when I am with my kids or family, I hang on… hugging, snuggling and holding hands… and (luckily) they don’t seem to mind. The problem? Like most of today’s society, we don’t live anywhere near each other, so our visits are spread out.

I, also, have wonderful friends who are willing to give this girl a hug whenever I ask for one. In the beginning, I asked a lot… I didn’t hesitate. I would ask several times a day, in fact. As a new widow, it seemed “normal” enough. I don’t think anyone thought too much about it. But as time has passed, I have learned to tone it down. After all, it’s a little strange for a grown, adult woman to walk around gathering hugs like a squirrel gathers acorns.

In the past, I always either lived near family or had children at home. Now, however, I live alone in a city without any family nearby. Now, I may go days or even weeks without any human touch. This is a weird experience for me… There has been so much adjustment and change since Bruce died, but this one seems to be the hardest… This one seems to have the greatest affect on my life. It just seems to trickle into every corner of my world… Probably because it is my love language.

Other than asking for hugs when I need them, I don’t know that there is a real “fix” for this one… just a major adjustment in my thought processes. But for those who still have their loved ones by their side, there is something I want to share…

The night Bruce died was like any other… neither of us knew what lay ahead in the next few hours. We went to bed laughing and held each other as we slept. A few, short hours later, I held him in my arms as he drew his last breath… even then, we were still touching…

So, don’t waste one precious moment… use every opportunity to fill each other up with love now (whatever the language)… both of you will not be here forever. You never know which moment will be the last spent together.

What about you? What is your love language that was lost when your loved one died? How have you filled that gap? Because this is our community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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