Tag: love

Peace, Love, and Grief… Surprises and Changes

Well, it looks like I did it again… I missed another week. I am so sorry…

It just seems like life lately has doubled its speed, and I am struggling to keep up. Can you relate at all?

In the last month, I have helped my daughter and grandson move, we had a wedding, and last week, I had all of my floors replaced. I don’t know what I was thinking, because this meant moving over 90% of my belongings into the garage (including toilets – which is a whole other story) … and back in (which I am still working on). Of course, part this process has also meant cleaning out and getting rid of things I don’t need or want any more. Bringing that stuff back into the house seemed pointless, but of course, it also meant a slower process. Of course, all of this has resulted in more space to work with so most things are not going back where they used to be… I know I will be happy when it is done, but the whole experience is one I don’t want to ever repeat again in this lifetime. LOL!

So… this cleaning out process… most things that I have let go have been no problem, but there have been a few things that required some thought… They required choices… And some of those choices were ones I wasn’t even thinking about making when this process started.

The biggest choice had to do with Bruce’s old dresser… Not the dresser itself but the memorial to him that I started right after he died and have added to bit by bit over the years. It consisted of his school yearbooks and awards, pictures (of course), his karate black belt, some Jimmy Buffet memorabilia, his favorite cap, the luggage tags from the cruise when we met (and he hung onto), and more… All things he had treasured and saved, which was actually a big deal because generally speaking he didn’t usually hang onto anything. However, through the years, as I cleaned out boxes and drawers, I had found these items, and learned a little bit more about him with each item.

Also, on this dresser were a dozen dried roses. I had bought them for myself (from Bruce) on our anniversary that first year after he died. They were still sitting in the same vase, the way I placed them eight years ago, perfectly dried with time. However, time had also turned them black, and because they were so delicate (and precious to me), starting so show a layer of dust that I couldn’t seem to get off without tearing them up. Years ago, one of kids gently tried to suggest it was time to throw them out, but I wasn’t ready, and they quickly let the subject go – never mentioning it again.

However, last week as I looked at them… I mean really looked at them, I realized that they didn’t really bring me joy like the other items. They just made me sad… I reminder of the last several anniversaries spent alone. Then, I looked again, and decided, they were actually kind of creepy… Not something I needed to perpetuate. So… I did what I never thought of doing before… I tossed them out.

As for the rest of the memorial, I kept everything, but I moved them to different spaces. The memorial is gone… for me it is time, but he is not forgotten. I have simply moved his memories throughout the house rather than focusing all of those things into an official “memorial.” It feels better… It feels healthy… I couldn’t have done it even a few months ago, but now the time was right… And I’m good with it.

I remember a year after he died, I was finally ready to go through and remove things like his clothes and such. I had a wonderful neighbor who came over and helped me. She listened as I shared stories and hugged me when I cried. I kept a few things then, such as the outfit he wore when we got married. Everything else I offered to family members first, then took to the local charity shop. It had taken me a year to get to that point, but I was ready. Then this week, I broke up the memorial… Again, waiting until I was ready. Never doing these things because I felt pushed – I didn’t. Thankfully, the people around me have always been patient and let me do these things in my own time and in my own way.

Then, something else happened this week… You would think by now I would have found anything of his still in this house. However, as I was cleaning out a drawer to one of the side tables (one that held his poker chips, a weather radio, and his camera – all things I still have used through the years), I decided these items should really go somewhere else. So, I pulled them all out. Then something in the back of the drawer caught my eye… It looked like a badly tarnished chain.

As I reached in and pulled it out, I realized it wasn’t one chain… It was Bruce’s other two necklaces. (He had one that was an anchor, which I have worn with our wedding rings added since the night he died.) However, these two were ones he had also worn through the years. One was a St. Joseph medal. I had given it to Bruce on our wedding day, since St. Joseph is the patron saint of families and fathers. The other one Bruce had bought in Belize when we were on a cruise… (Supposedly) It was his initials in the Mayan language. I can remember him laughing about it and saying he hoped that was what it was, but how would he know? I remember we spent the next few days laughing and making up what it might actually say instead.

To say, finding those two necklaces caught me by surprise would be an understatement. When I pulled them out, and realized just what they were, it quite literally took my breath away. I would swear I felt my heart stop in that moment as I found another piece of Bruce… Another something to remind me that he is really gone… That I am here alone… That I still hate this… That I am still a little bit angry… And I still miss him more than words can express.

Splitting up the memorial and tossing out those roses was the right change to make, and I think Bruce would have agreed. (Actually, he probably would have thought I should have done it a long time ago.)… Yet, there is also a part of me that believes, he let me find those necklaces this week, because with all the change going on around me right now, I needed to remember the gift of our marriage, and the joy and laughter we shared…

So, thank you, Babe! I love you!!

Thank you for the opportunity to share my story with you. Sometimes, this journey can feel like nothing more than a very lonely path, especially since it is so different for each of us. Yet, our love for those we have lost is something we all share. I believe the sharing of our stories is also important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

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

This is a weekly blog, for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Just Thinking of Him

First let me apologize for missing last week. As you will read, we were having a wedding…

Hey Babe,

Wow! What a busy few weeks this has been! I am whipped! The wedding was a week ago, and we all missed you…

As the mother of the bride, my son escorted me up the aisle to be seated, and our grandson escorted me out afterward. It warmed my heart. Yet, in my heart, I so badly wanted it to be you.

Our grandson walked his mother down the aisle and “gave her away.” He was so serious. His mom had her own way of including you, though. She put your picture in a locket and attached it to her bouquet. It really made me smile to know you were a part if this, too.

She walked down the aisle to “I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You.” I love that song. I know they chose it for them and their relationship. However, I can’t listen to it without thinking how I tried not to fall in love with you. I tried to convince myself that we lived too far apart – me in SC and you in MI. I tried to tell myself that we were too different – I was a Catholic school teacher, and you were a teamster truck driver. I even told myself that I was nobody’s “catch” – I was a 40-something divorcee with four children… What kind of crazy would want that?? … But you did… You wanted all that… every bit of it… And I couldn’t help falling in love with you, because of and despite all those arguments.

Like most weddings, the ceremony itself had a way of touching the hearts of us who have married our soulmates. As I listened to the words, I couldn’t help but smile as I remembered our own special day. It wasn’t big or formal – just our family and the judge at the courthouse. Yet, I can remember every moment like it was yesterday… the way you held my hands as you looked me in the eye, and we said our vows. I especially, remember afterward how we clung to each other – so happy… so excited… so in love… promises of “happily ever after” floating in our minds… It was such a happy day.

At the reception, last week, they had all the married couples come out on the dance floor for a dance. It was a little sad to stay seated. I would have loved to have danced with you. I remember the week we met… We danced all week. I also remember the New Years before you died… We danced all night. I used to love that… I used to love the way you held me close when we danced. I swear, even now, when “our song” plays on the radio, I can almost feel you here… holding me close once again… I miss that… I miss you.

Last week’s ceremony was a bittersweet reminder of us… It made me smile because I do believe in “happily ever after.” I love you, Babe, and I will always feel blessed for being your wife!

It has been over eight years, and I still miss Bruce. I hate that he is gone. He changed my world and continues to do so every day. Just thinking about him and our story can put a smile on my face. I don’t know that I will ever get over losing him, but I do know I will always be thankful for having known a love like ours.

Thank you for the opportunity to share my story with you. For all of us, it is easy to feel like this journey is nothing more than a very lonely path, especially since it is so different for each of us. Yet, our love for those we have lost is something we all share. Sharing our stories is important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

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

This is a weekly blog, for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief

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

Peace, Love and Grief… The Journey

“I cannot share thy journey, but I can walk beside thee.”
~ Diana Gabaldon, Written in My Own Heart’s Blood

When Bruce and I met and got married, I was still healing from 20+ years of domestic violence. It had left its tole, with a diagnosis of PTSD. On the outside I could smile and act like I had it together. However, there were many residual aftereffects that (try as I might), I couldn’t always control. It was not unusual to wake up in a panic with a need to just “get away.” I can also remember times when I just knew Bruce would be furious with me, because that was the only reaction I had known for too many years.

I’ve told this story before, but it seems appropriate to share it again today. We were in the kitchen cooking together – laughing and being silly. I poured Bruce a beer and went to hand it to him. Somewhere in the exchange, the beer left my hand, but missed his and ended up on the floor – a mess of glass and beer covering the entire kitchen floor. I looked at Bruce and completely panicked. I remember racing to the bathroom, locking myself inside, and sitting on the floor as I cried – terrified of what he might do.

After a few minutes, Bruce quietly knocked on the door and asked to come in. Hesitantly, I opened the door a crack… And he greeted me with a smile. Then he held his arms out to me, and I fell into them… So, relieved that this man was a man I could trust. After holding me for a while, we went back into the kitchen. He smiled at me as he poured himself another beer (in another glass) … Then, looking me in the eye, he held it out… and just let go. Beer and glass once more covered the floor. I was stunned! He, on the other hand, just pulled me close, as he reassured me that he loved me… always… no matter what… and he swore he would never hurt me… ever!

Days later as I shared this situation with my mother, she made the comment, “Bruce is not (insert ex-husband’s name).” She was right, and I would like to say that was all it took. I would like to say that I was fine after that… But learning to manage the memories and trauma of 20+ years can take a while. Bruce, however, never walked away… He was always there by my side. He couldn’t share what I had experienced, but he was determined to stay by my side as I figured out how to move forward.

I won’t lie. It took years before the nightmares and aftereffects were manageable… Then, not long after, I lost Bruce… In a breath, he was gone, and I found myself thrown back to those old terrors. Even once I thought I had my feet back under me, my ex contacted me with the same old verbal attacks and threatening language. My first reaction was one of panic. I sat in the middle of my living room – terrified. Then, it was like Bruce touched my soul to say he was still here… still by my side.

So, this time, I took action… action to protect myself. I knew I could do it, because Bruce taught me that I am worthy, and I am not alone. I know Bruce is with me… Still walking beside me. And whenever, I feel lost about what to do next, all I have to do is stop and remember…

Thank you, Babe!

It has been over eight years, and I still miss Bruce. I hate that he is gone. He changed my world and continues to do so every day. Because of him, I have had the tools I needed to survive this journey (so far). I have come to learn that this journey has a lesson built into every step and every breath. Thank you for the opportunity to share those with you. For all of us, it is easy to feel like this journey is nothing more than a very lonely path, especially since it is so different for each of us. Yet, our love for those we have lost is something we all share. Sharing our stories is important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.
Please do… This is OUR community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

This is a weekly blog, for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Things Do Change (Over Time)

Earlier this week, someone close to my heart sent me an article written by someone recently widowed. The accuracy of it was absolutely heartbreaking. To be suddenly taken back to those early days and all of the raw feelings and emotions… Well, I caught myself crying halfway through the first paragraph.

There were several situations that he wrote about that touched my heart so deeply that I wanted to about them here… Maybe just to say, “Don’t give up. While it doesn’t completely go away, it does get better… It just takes a while.”

One of the first things the author wrote about was the new title we are given, “widower” in his case, “widow” in mine. It feels like such an awful word at first. I can remember the exact moment when I realized it now belonged to me… It was just a week of so after Bruce died, and I was in the drugstore picking up cosmetics (or shampoo or something equally mundane). In the aisle ahead of me, I saw two elderly women walking together and talking. To myself I thought, “They’re probably widows… out together. That is what a widow looks like.” Then I caught a glimpse of my own reflection in a glass case as I passed, and realized, “No… That is what a widow looks like.” Then, as the tears started to roll down my cheeks, I said out loud to myself, “You are a widow.”

That led to the writer’s next thought, which was all about “losing who you are. Just as he portrayed it – you go to bed one night as “you” (part of a two-some). Then in a breath everything changes… Suddenly, you wake up and half of “you” is just gone. It feels impossible to find your footing when your whole world has changed. Suddenly this person who knew you inside and out, who shared your world and slept by your side day in, and day out is gone… vanished…

I know for me, there were so many days those first few years when the pain was so bad my chest literally hurt… So often I sat on the floor in the middle of our home – cursing God while at the same time begging him to let me wake up from this horrible nightmare!

But… time has passed… More than eight years actually, and with the passage of time my world has taken on a new form… No, not one I would have chosen for myself, but one I have learned to lived within. For example, …

The word “widow” … I don’t mind saying I’m a widow these days. In fact, I actually use it a lot. Sometimes it is my “security blanket” with the rest of the world… It says so much to the world that I don’t have the energy (nor do I want) to explain. For example, when I buy something for my home, I am often asked if they should be talking to my husband or will I need assistance with installation? Usually, I just look at them and say, “I’m a widow,” and those comments end right there. That’s it. I don’t have to explain a thing… For me, it’s kind of nice not needing to say anything more.

Then, there is the “losing who you are” piece of the situation. Yes… you do. There’s no avoiding it. However, after a while (perhaps a long while), you find out who you are all on your own… You might even find you like yourself and want to know yourself better. I still miss Bruce, and being alone has its challenges, but over all I have learned to be content with myself… And that is something I have sought after my whole life. So, while I lost who I was… I am learning to be happy with who I am… And I have chosen to make that a good thing… Although it has taken me a long time to get here.

Bottom line – I miss Bruce. I hate that he is gone. He changed my world and continues to do so every day. Because of him, I have had the tools I needed to survive this journey (so far). I have come to learn that this journey has a lesson built into every step and every breath. Thank you for the opportunity to share those with you. For all of us, it is easy to feel like this journey is nothing more than a very lonely path, especially since it is so different for each of us. Yet, our love for those we have lost is something we all share. Sharing our stories is important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

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

This is a weekly blog, for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief

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

Peace, Love and Grief… This is Grief

First of all, I want to apologize. I missed last week. My daughter and grandson were moving to their new home, and we were crazy busy… Then, I came back home, and it is so quiet. It feels weird trying to readjust to being here alone… again. I have had music playing (a lot) to fill the quiet… and it seems that one song keeps playing over and over – Josh Grobam’s To Where You Are. I love that song… If I could say anything to Bruce at this point, I think that song would sum it up…

“Who can say for certain
Maybe you’re still here.
I feel you all around me.
Your memories so clear.” **

Hmmm… I still miss him…

I read something last week that said, “Mourning is what we do on the outside, but grief is what we do on the inside.” I have to agree… I might even go so far as to say, “Mourning has its season, but grief, well, that’s forever.” I say that because I smile, and I enjoy life, but my heart? Well… That part still hurts… That part still wishes this to be only a nightmare… And soon I will wake up, and he will be sleeping right beside me. Then, he will pull me close, and I will snuggle into his arms… safe… and loved…

(Yes, I know that isn’t really going to happen, but how I wish it would!)

Recently, my book club just finished reading Barbara Brown Taylor’s book, Learning to Walk in the Dark. Each chapter is about a different experience she has had in the dark, and the spiritual lesson she has taken away from it. In the epilogue, she brings it all together when she says that the book is mainly about living with loss… all different kinds of loss. But loss is loss, and where there is loss, there is also a certain amount of grief. She explains that living with loss “is tough enough in any place or time, but it is especially difficult in a culture that works so hard to look the other way.” Then she goes on to say, “The suffering comes from our reluctance to learn to walk in the dark… to become more curious about your own darkness.”

This week I have had a lot of time to think on this… to become “curious” about my own walk in the dark…

I can’t say I’ve had any great epiphanies except that we all find ourselves walking in the dark at some point. (That’s just life.) … And we all have to figure it out… At the very least, we have to find a way to be comfortable when we are there… Because the bottom line is you have day without night or light without dark… or life without death…

I hate this “walk in the dark”… this grief journey that seems to have no end… At the same time, it is because of this “walk in the dark” that I have become more of who I am… I have learned to sit with myself. I have learned to dig deep and listen… But the reason I have been able to do this at all is because of Bruce, himself… Because he taught me how…

“As my heart holds you
Just one beat away,
I cherish all you gave me
Every day…” **

And in all honestly, as for me, I’m not sure I could have learned this lesson any other way…

Thank you, Babe!

To listen to the song in its entirety, click the link below.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PXnKt3Wclzo&ab_channel=JoshGroban-Topic

I miss Bruce. I hate that he is gone. He changed my world and continues to do so every day. I have come to learn that this walk in the dark has had a lesson built into every step and every breath. Thank you for the opportunity to share those with you. For all of us, it is easy to feel like this journey is nothing more than a very lonely path, especially since it is so different for each of us. Yet, our love for those we have lost is something we all share. Sharing our stories is important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

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

This is a weekly blog, for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief

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

** “To Where You Are” is a song performed by American singer, Josh Groban, on his 2001 self-titled debut album. It was written by Richard Marx and Linda Thompson and produced by Richard Marx.

Peace, Love and Grief… Telling Our Story

“You have to tell your story, so people are aware and see the value you know to be real.”
~ Unknown

When Bruce was alive, we wrote a lot of notes, letters, and cards back and forth to each other. At least once a month he would turn to me and tell me that I should write our story… And that he couldn’t wait to read it. I used to smile, but I never took him seriously. All my life, I had been told I wasn’t much of a writer. Shoot, I had never even kept a journal… Yet, he was persistent and never gave up – suggesting it over and over.

“On my silent days, I miss you a little louder.” ~ C.C. Aurel

Then, he died, and my world went black. I don’t just mean dark… I mean black… Black like being in a cave when there are no lights… Black like not being able to see your hand in front of your face…. Black as in I had no idea how to move forward… I wasn’t even sure I could still breathe. In fact, I’m not sure I did for the first few weeks. I was raw. I was numb. I was in total shock.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t look at your picture and smile.
Or cry.
Or both.”
~ Dean Jackson

Sometime in that first month, my mom suggested that I keep a journal… Just a place to write down all my thoughts and emotions and get them out… A place to let it all go… A safe space to release everything inside that I couldn’t seem to untangle in my own mind.

That’s how it started… I just wrote…

Some of it was coherent, and some of it wasn’t. Some of it was sad, and some of it was very angry. I wrote things I wouldn’t (or couldn’t) tell anyone (and probably still wouldn’t). Sometimes I go back and read a page or two of those early journals, but I can only manage a page or two… The pain on those pages is more than I can bear to think about (even now) … But it is a good reminder of just how far I have come since then.

“Some days I just sit and remember.” ~ Unknown

After many months, my journal became a place to share the things I was discovering about myself and/or my faith. It was also a place where I listed the things I was grateful for each day. Some days I was thankful for so many things, and other days, I might have just been thankful for being able to get out of bed to face another day. (That exercise became a great way to pull myself back out of a pity-party before I fell too far down into the deeper depression of grief.)

“Suddenly, she realized that what she was regretting was not the lost past, but the lost future, not what had not been, but what would never be.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald

I’m not sure when it became a place to write daily letters to Bruce, but somewhere in that first year, that is exactly what happened. It was like a “Dear Diary”, only instead it was a “Hey Babe”. I knew he would never see them, but somehow it made me feel better to write it that way… I still do. Sometimes I share my day. Other times, I share my emotions or something I have learned. Sometimes I share a poem I read (or wrote) or sometimes it is a quote or a verse that touches my heart… Whatever is rattling around in my brain is what flows from my pen.

It helps… a lot… I think it has become my best (and cheapest) therapy yet!

A couple of years after Bruce died, a childhood friend came into town for a visit. I wish I could say it was a great visit, but honestly, it just wasn’t. However, I believe one good thing did come of it… This friend suggested I start a blog about grief – some place to share my and Bruce’s story… some place to share my experiences and feelings with other widows… Some place to let them (and me) know that none of us are alone. Our feelings and thoughts are normal (if there even is such a thing) for our situation.

Over the years, I have told my and Bruce’s story many times. I have also written about my fears, my joys, my frustrations, and my celebrations. This has been the space where I have chosen to share things I haven’t said in any other space. Why? Because this has become my safe space… A space I share with the people who understand where I am and how I got here. People who understand that while grief can make somethings clearer, it can just as easily skew our thinking… And they don’t judge me for it.

Thank you! Thank you for allowing me this privilege to share not only my thoughts but our story – mine… and Bruce’s… A story that has value for me… I know he may never get to read it, but I hope somewhere… somehow… he knows I have written it… I am still writing it… Just like he suggested so many years ago.

“I have to let go of having you by my side. Holding your hand, talking face to face. But I will never let go of loving you, remembering you, honoring you and missing you.” ~ Unknown

I miss Bruce, and I love telling his stories. He changed my world and continues to do so… even now. I know, it can be easy to feel like this journey is nothing more than a very lonely path, especially since it is so different for each of us. Yet, our love for those we have lost is something we all share. Sharing our stories is 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, and 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.

The Importance of Laughter

The sun sets at the end of the day.
The sky is pink.
I am reminded of you…
And I smile.

The full moon rises over the trees.
It lights up the world.
I am reminded of you…
And I smile.

The storm rolls in with its dark clouds.
It puts on a show for the world.
I am reminded of you…
And I smile.

The waves crash onto the beach.
There for a moment and then gone again.
I am reminded of you…
And I smile.

All around me life goes on.
I see you in every flower,
And feel you in the stir of the wind.
Your soul reaches out to me to remember…
I do…
And I smile.
~ Linda, 2013

There is a lot of stress in our house right now… Not because of anything bad, though. It’s all good things actually. My daughter who has been living with me for the past few years is getting married. He is a good man. In fact, he and I were friends before she ever came here to live, so you know he is top-notch on my list. They are also building a house and getting ready to move, which we all know is extremely exciting… and ridiculously stressful. There are boxes everywhere in our house – some holding items for the wedding; others holding household items for their new home.

On top of all of that, life is still moving forward with work and homeschooling and all the things that make up life. I am sure we can all relate… We have all had those moments in life where we can see the finish line where we know we will get some relief… We just have to figure out how to get there… Might I suggest a little laughter? I really think that is what we need a bit of right now. I say that because laughter has been such a blessing whenever I have found myself struggling to move forward in this journey.

I remember when I went through my divorce years ago. It took three years to get divorced, and life was extremely tense during that time and for a long time after. At one point, my mom sent me a CD of a comedian along with a note telling me I “needed to laugh.” As I put the CD into the player of my car, I shook my head thinking, “She doesn’t get it. My life is falling apart… I don’t think I can laugh anymore.” However, as is often the case, I was wrong, and my mom was right. Within a few short minutes, I was laughing so hard, I could barely breathe! It was such a great release!

Years later, when Bruce passed away, I found myself thinking I would never laugh again… It felt as if every bit of joy had been drained from my life. Once again, though, someone wiser than myself counseled me on the importance of finding some joy each day… Not just something to be grateful for (although can be a good place to start), but something that would make me smile… and, yes, maybe even laugh.

I will always remember the first time I laughed after Bruce passed away. A bunch of us were sitting around telling “Bruce Stories”, and before I knew it, I found myself laughing at some of the best memories ever! However, as soon as I realized what I was doing, I stopped short. How could I laugh? My world had fallen apart! What in the world did I have to laugh about?

As time passed, I found myself laughing at little things such the sayings of my (then) toddler grandson or a joke on the radio. However, each time I would catch myself… and stop. Those same feelings of “what did I have to laugh about?” kept returning… And each time, I let it steal my joy.

I’m not sure at what point or even who said it, but somewhere on this path, someone suggested that perhaps I needed to give myself permission to laugh. At about the same time, I started reading one of Bruce’s favorite, “go-to” books, The Importance of Living by Lin Yutang. Within the first few pages, he presents the idea that a sense of humor has the function of not letting us “bump our heads against the stone wall of reality.” In other words, to be wise we need to learn to combine our reality with our dreams and a sense of humor.

At this point, the door truly opened. If this book was Bruce’s “go-to” and these were the ideas of the author… perhaps… just perhaps, Bruce, himself, was trying to tell me that I needed to laugh again. And if I took that a step further, perhaps by giving myself permission to laugh, I was also giving myself permission to heal.

And so, I did…

It started slowly. I started retelling stories and sharing memories of Bruce and I that made me laugh. By starting there, I found that I could honor Bruce’s memory and find my healing through laughter all at the same time. I quickly found that other people who knew him, were more than willing to dive in and share their funny stories as well. Over the years, I have had people add their stories to my “collection” of precious moments – from Bruce’s high school buddy sharing stories of teenage shenanigans to his sisters and parents telling stories of his childhood. In each story, I have been able to recognize the man I loved and his mischievous sense of humor. I can picture that smile he used to get on his face when he thought he was getting away with something… And I have laughed… long and hard.

Yet, that is not the end; that was only the beginning. Once I let go of the guilt of feeling joyful, it began to sink in that I am still here for a reason. MY life isn’t over, and I needed to stop acting as if it were… And laughter has been my bridge back to a life worth living… A life I enjoy!

What a blessing! I must say that in the past few years, I have learned to be so thankful for the healing gift of laughter and the balance that a sense of humor can bring to our lives each and every day… no matter what our current reality holds.

So, that is my goal… over the next few weeks, as we move through these milestones, may we remember that laughter is a blessing, and a life worth living is one filled with joy.

“If we don’t pause,
the hardships of the world will slowly de-sensitize us from the simple joys that life has to offer.
Stop and take a breath.
Enjoy the moment without needing the moment to be perfect.
Life is what happens between the cracks of perfection.”
~ Erik Wahl

Nowadays, very time I find myself laughing, I also find myself thanking Bruce in my heart for opening my eyes to one more thing… and reminding me that I am not alone here. Sure, it can be easy to feel like this journey is nothing more than a very lonely path, especially since it is so different for each of us. Yet, our love for those we have lost is something we all share. Did you or have you ever struggled with the idea of laughing in the face of loss? How did you come to terms with it? Or do you still need support in that area? Would you be willing to share your story or your thoughts? 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. This is our community, and we are here for you. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

This is a weekly blog, for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Don’t Should on Others

“Don’t ‘should’ on others.” ~ David Kessler

This week, I was listening to a webinar with grief expert, David Kessler. (If you haven’t heard of him or listened to him before, I would recommend giving him a listen.) In the middle of the program, he made an off-handed comment saying, “Don’t ‘should’ on others.” At first, it made me laugh simply because I absolutely loved it! It made so much sense in the moment… and especially through so many moments this past week.

I’m sure most of us can relate, whether you are grieving or not, because as people, we tend to do it to each other. Have you ever heard someone or even found yourself thinking, “they should …” or “they shouldn’t …”? I have. I hate to admit it, but I have. I think it is fairly common to the human experience… We tend to judge others’ behavior based on what we would or wouldn’t do.

Then, when you apply it to grief, especially your own grief (with others judging you), it is extremely frustrating. I can’t tell you how many times I have heard someone ask me how long I plan to grieve. Really? Well, there are two responses I always want to give: 1. Well, how long will they be dead? That’s probably going to be your answer… And 2. There is no plan. Death happened. I wasn’t given an opportunity to plan for it. So, my “plan” is to simply figure it out as I go along.

So… Please, don’t tell me I “should” get over it… I “shouldn’t still be grieving… I “should” move on… I “shouldn’t” ____ or I “should” ___… (fill in the blanks with something that makes the speaker more comfortable).

Yet, that comfort level is exactly what I mean… When we use that term, we are usually judging someone else based on what we would do… Because what we would do is also what makes us the most comfortable… And I am as guilty of that as anyone else. (Not when it comes to grief, but definitely when it comes to other things.) It just took hearing it this week and having someone explain the why behind it for the lights to come on for me.

I hate to admit it… I hate that I have been known to do this, as well. Yet, understanding this has led me to a few new thought processes. For example, instead of being offended or upset when someone makes a comment about my own grief, I now know that they are really talking about themselves and their feelings. It isn’t about me – not really. I also know that I need to be more aware of my own judgements and looking closely at why I feel the need to “should” them at all.

As a result, when all is said and done, my goal going forward is to just let it all go – what others are saying I “should” do and what I find myself saying others “should” do… It’s just not kind or fair to any of us. Let’s all just assume we are doing the best we can, give each other some room to breathe, and let the rest go.

This grief journey has been one of the most difficult experiences I have ever had. It has broken me down to the roots of my soul and has taken me years to feel some semblance of “normal.” Yet at the same time, it has opened my eyes to so many things I never took the time to think about before now… And every time I find myself thanking Bruce in my heart for opening my eyes to one more thing and reminding me that I am not alone here. Sure, it can be easy to feel like this journey is nothing more than a very lonely path, especially since it is so different for each of us. Yet, our love for those we have lost is something we all share. 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.

To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us 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… Just One More Time

Bruce’s birthday is coming up in just a few days. It’s really hard to believe I’ll be celebrating his birthday again without him. It was always such a big deal when he was alive. With the exception of one or two years, we always spent the week of his birthday with his folks on the Alabama coast. It was always such a fun week – days spent in the sun on the beach, dinners when his mom cooked all his favorite foods, and nights spent with his folks playing games or just telling stories and laughing.

I love those memories… I miss those days…

Before the pandemic, I would usually travel to some beach somewhere to celebrate… and remember. Then last year, the world shut down, and I couldn’t even make it out to our beach right here at home. This year, I didn’t even try to travel with everything (still) going on. However, I do plan to spend the day on the beach… sitting, writing, thinking, remembering… and (hopefully) relaxing.

Bruce’s birthday was always a week of relaxation for both of us… We looked forward to it for months! Life lately has been so busy. Sometimes it feels like every single second is already planned with the all the things that must be done now. So, the idea of taking even a day for Bruce and I most makes me feel like I should say, “Thank you, Babe, for still making sure I just relax every now and then,”

Between the busy-ness and his upcoming birthday, my mind has been all ever the place the past few days. So, I’m sure even this blog is going to be all over the place… with one thought leading to another.

For instance, once of Bruce’s sisters has a birthday just a few days earlier. This year a photo montage was put together for her, and I was asked to supply some pictures of her and Bruce. This turned into a wonderful amount of time spent pouring over photo albums of Bruce’s life from birth until our time together. The thing is Bruce wasn’t a fan of having his picture taken. So, to go through all those photos just makes me smile. I love seeing the moments in time – recognizing his mannerisms and facial expressions that which (evidently) were always a part of who Bruce was. These pieces of him, I know I will never forget because I am blessed with a permanent record to revisit at any time.

From there, I found myself wanting more, such as videos. However, those are harder to come by. I only have two videos of Bruce. (Again, he wasn’t a fan.) In one, he is playing with one of the cats, but he never says a word. I love watching it, though… I love watching the way he moves… and remembering. In the other video, he is playing with our grandson. It is a great video! We are all laughing, and the interaction between the two of them is adorable. In it, Bruce says one word… He laughs as our grandson tries to shoot M&Ms into Bruce’s mouth and says, “Almost!” That’s it… That is the only word I have.

When he died years ago, I had several voice messages that I used to play over and over, I loved hearing his voice… I especially loved the one where he said, “I just wanted to say ‘I love you, Babe.” However, I lost those years ago. I got a new phone about the same time the company changed the Voice Mail app, deleting all saved voice mails… including Bruce’s.

I hate that… I am so afraid of forgetting his voice… The inflections and cadence that was his… The sound I grew to love… The sound that filled my heart and calmed my soul… I would give anything to hear his voice just one more time… But for today – for this week – I will have to be content with the sound of his laughter and one simple “Almost!”… And some quiet time on our beach… and that’s okay.

This grief journey has been one of the most difficult experiences I have ever had. It has broken me down to the roots of my soul and has taken me years to feel some semblance of “normal.” Celebrating his birthday this week will bring its own challenges, I know. I will have to really push myself to stay out of the rabbit hole. I also know it is easy to feel like this journey is nothing more than a very lonely path, especially since it is so different for each of us. Yet, our love for those we have lost is something we all share. 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.

To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us 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… Sometimes It’s Still a Struggle

This week, has been a little bit hard…

Hi Babe!
It’s getting closer and closer to your birthday. (Not that I need to tell you that.) Each time I think about it, though, I feel sad that you are no longer here to celebrate your day. I am so sorry… Sorry that I still miss you – that there are still times when I seem “stuck” somehow. But I am even more sorry that I couldn’t save you that night… And because of that, you are gone.

I know that everyone says there was nothing I could have done… Yet, somehow I still blame myself. I try no to dwell on it, but there are still times, like today, when I just can’t let it go. You were always there for me… and for my kids. I constantly said you were my hero… my whole world.

Then, one night – one moment – you needed me… and I failed you…

At first, I couldn’t even comprehend what was happening… I just thought you were dreaming. It took a few moments before I realized I couldn’t wake you. I finally turned on the light and tried again. Even once I finally made the decision to call 911, I was second guessing myself. What if you woke up and were upset that I had made a big deal over you…? You hated that kind of thing.

Then, I had to make sure the door was unlocked so the paramedics could get inside… And I had to find something hard to slide under your back, because you were too big, (and I was too small) to move you off the bed. Finally, I had to figure out how to actually get that thing under you. It took everything I had to lift you enough to slide it under you. It wasn’t until then, that I was finally able to start CPR.

So much precious time was already lost at that point…

I couldn’t tell you how long it really took – I have no idea. It was probably less that a minute, but it felt like forever. It felt like one of those dreams where you know you need to run, but your feet just won’t move… It’s like your shoes are made of concrete, and your brain is screaming at you to hurry up and move… But you just can’t!

I tried… I tried to hurry, but there was another part of me that just kept thinking this had to be a dream – a God-awful, terrible dream!

I can remember straddling your body and doing compressions on your chest… I can remember thinking that help was never going to get there. I can remember the voice of the 911 operator walking me through every motion and assuring me that help really was coming. I can remember looking at your face and begging you to open your eyes and look back at me…

But the problem was – you were already gone. I don’t think I realized that, though, until I watched the paramedics work on you. I remember exactly where I stood… and watched… I can remember… But none of it felt real… A life filled with this much love couldn’t end like this, could it?

I know I cried, because I can remember holding tissues, but I don’t remember how they ended up in my hand. I remember being asked a lot of questions as I stood there – watching – but I couldn’t tell you even one of the questions I was asked. I can remember the flurry and speed as they worked, while at the same time there was this other part of me that was so disconnected and kept thinking, “What a mess. I will need to clean this up before I can go to the hospital.” Please, don’t ask me why I thought that… I was probably in shock. I still didn’t think any of it was real… It just couldn’t be how “we” would end!

(deep breath… and another)

That was exactly how it ended… with you gone… and with me always wondering if I could have done something more to save you…

I am so very sorry, Babe! My heart is ripped to shreds… I still love you so very, very much… And that is forever!

This grief journey has been one of the most difficult experiences I have ever had. It has broken me down to the roots of my soul and has taken me years to feel some semblance of “normal.” Most days I think I am doing pretty good, but sometimes (like now) I am struggling. I have to really push myself to stay out of the rabbit hole. I know it is easy to feel like this journey is nothing more than a very lonely path, especially since it is so different for each of us. Yet, our love for those we have lost is something we all share. 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.

To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us 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