Tag: grieve

Peace, Love and Grief… Permission

“How do I live without your love? One breath at a time…” ~ Linda, December 2013

As another week ends and a new begins, I find myself back here… writing to you. Just sharing my thoughts and experiences. In the beginning when I started this blog, that was my purpose. To simply share my experience as a widow. At the time, there seemed to only be a lot of advice for widows… a lot of “how it should be” and “how I should respond,” but not a lot of “this is how it truly feels” or “this is my experience.” When I did happen to find one of those, I read it ravenously, looking for anything that might sound similar to my own experience… Anything that would help me feel like my own reaction was normal. Now it is several years later and here I am, still doing this same thing and for the same reason.

Here’s the thing… I remember the shock of the first few weeks and all of the awfulness of that first year. I remember hating holidays or any special day that (for me) had become nothing more than another reminder that Bruce was gone. I remember when year two started, and from what I had read, I was “supposed” to feel better – all of the “firsts” without Bruce were behind me and life “should” move on. However, it really wasn’t that way for me, which only left me feeling like I was doing something wrong… that I couldn’t even manage to grieve “correctly.”

Please don’t judge my grief.
Don’t compare it to your own or someone else’s.
You see what I choose to let you see,
(Except in those moments when it overflows
And pours from my soul.)
I may smile.
I may walk with my chin up,
But you do not know what pain is growing on the inside…
Consuming my soul.
It is easy to where you do
And decide I am fine.
But you would be wrong.
You see what I choose to let you see.
My pain is there.
It is real.
I deal with it all day, every day.
Do not believe this mask I wear…
~ Linda, June 2014

It was a few months later that I started working with a life coach. I’m not saying that is the right path for everyone, but it was right for me. Surprisingly, we actually didn’t even talk about grief that often. Instead, it was a lot of conversation about being the “best me” I could be in any given moment. It was about analyzing how and why I reacted to the things around me, while also giving myself the grace to feel whatever I was feeling.

That was when I reached the point where I knew I needed to find my voice. I needed to simply put my own experiences out there for anyone who might need to know that whatever they were experiencing or not experiencing, it was “normal” … Whatever they were feeling or not feeling, it was okay. The books filled with advice, the hours in support groups, the people around me with their own expectations – all of that was a nice place to start. However, it wasn’t the “be all end all.” It wasn’t law or dogma; it was simply advice… And that means, when all is said and done, you can take it or leave it.

It reminds me a lot of having children. There are a lot of “experts” out there who have written books on parenting. There are also dozens of people who are more than ready to give you advice and tell you how you should parent – quick to judge, slow to listen. There are even people who have never had children who do this using the words, “If I were a parent, I would …” (Fill in the blank accordingly.)

Well, losing a loved one and grieving – whether it is a spouse, a child, a sibling, a parent, a friend, whomever it is – is remarkably similar. There are “experts” with books and ideas, and people with experience and without experience who want to tell you how it should be done… And maybe I am the same, because here is what I have to say to all of that…

“Give yourself permission to take a path that is yours, and don’t worry if it is different than everyone else’s… Be true to you, because in the end, you are the only one with in your situation, and you are the only one who knows.”

So alone…
No one to talk to…
No one to understand…

How do I explain these feelings to someone who’s never been here?

How do I go on? …
I’m so tired…

So tired of smiling when I don’t feel it.
So tired of listening to everyone else.

No one listens…
Do they care?
Or is it that they just don’t notice?

They can’t tell this smile is empty…
This heart is frozen…
Dead…
But no one notices…
No one sees…
~ Linda, March 2015

Grief is one of those things I wouldn’t wish on anyone. For me, it has been the most challenging journey I have experienced. It has broken me down to the roots of my soul and has taken me years to feel any semblance of “normal.” I believe that sometimes we feel like this journey is nothing more than a very lonely path, especially since it is so different for each of us. However, 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

* 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… No!

This week I was reading an article about grief and loss written by Pastor John Pavlovitz. In the article, he talks about that moment when a person realizes they have lost someone they love, and that one word which seems to always emanate from their lips – “No.” Such a simple word, but the meaning, in such a time as grief, speaks volumes.

I remember the night Bruce died, and realizing the responsibility of calling everyone to tell them what had just happened fell to me. There was no one else to do it… I was alone. I had never done anything like this before. when I called, I didn’t even think to ask people if there was anyone else around. It didn’t even dawn on me. (Thankfully, there usually was.) Of all the calls I made that night, though, there are a few calls that still stand out in my mind.

One of the first calls was Bruce’s parents. I remember talking to his mother, and I think I will forever hear the echo of her horrified “No” when I told her the news. It was awful, and it encompassed everything I was trying to deny.

The calls to my two daughters who were closest to Bruce were made shortly afterward with pretty much the same reaction. It wasn’t just a quiet “no” of disbelief for my sake; it was a “no” for what it meant to them, as well… For a loss that felt like more than they could bear.

Talking to Bruce’s daughter was another call that still stands out in my head. We had been playing “phone tag” for almost 24 hours, before we finally connected. By that time, she knew something was up, but I don’t think she had the slightest idea what I was about to say. The shock and anguish in her voice broke my heart all over again.

Don’t get me wrong, I am pretty sure that almost every person I called that night responded with that same word, whether it was for me or them or both. However, those first few weeks are such a blur that these are the voices that still haunt in my dreams.

Yet here is the strange part…

From what I remember, “no” was not my response when the doctor told me the news at the hospital. Not that I wasn’t completely devastated… I was. I just wasn’t surprised. I knew before the ambulance ever left the house… I had witnessed his last breath. I had started the CPR. I had watched as the EMTs did everything they could, while the heart monitor line stayed flat. I sat and waited with the ambulance as we all waited for a police officer to arrive and take me – following the ambulance, rather than racing to the hospital… Plus, there were no sirens when we did finally make that trip. So, I knew… I didn’t want to know, but I did.

So, when the doctor came in to confirm what I already knew, I don’t remember saying anything except to ask if I could be with him for a while. Then, I stayed by his side until the Medical Examiner’s office came to get him – stroking his face and hair, touching his hands one more time… Actually, I think I was waiting for him to open his eyes and smile at me… Because, honestly, I knew he was gone, but I hadn’t accepted it or processed it.

That acceptance took weeks… I remember that it hit me about the time I brought his ashes home. I do remember the “NO!” at that point. I remember wailing in the middle of the floor in our living room. Looking around at our home… our world… and refusing to accept the reality that had been dealt. Knowing without a doubt that I could not move forward with him by my side. The horror of that moment in time will always be etched into my soul. I remember begging Bruce to come back… begging God to let him back… To let me wake up from this God-awful nightmare.

At the same time, I also remember feeling his presence next to me and a quiet voice in my soul saying that he would be by my side for as long as I needed him. In the beginning, I hung onto that promise like it was oxygen. Through the years, I have felt him less and less. I am guessing maybe I am adjusting, and (maybe) need his constant presence less than I did. However, there are a lot of days (several lately) where I have reminded him of his promise and let him know I need him… still… And when I have the privacy, I still sit in the middle of the floor, and cry “no!”

“No” for him… “No” for me… “No” for us… Just “no!”

Having been through more trauma than I would want to remember, I can honestly say that grief has been the most challenging journey I have experienced – maybe because it breaks you down to the roots of your soul. Sometimes I believe, we feel like this journey is nothing more than a very lonely path, especially since it is so different for each of us. However, 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

* 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… Sympathy, Empathy, or None of the Above

It’s been about a year since we started homeschooling my grandson. Every 4 – 6 weeks we pick up a new “life skill” to embrace. We have learned about all kinds of things – etiquette, nutrition, organization, conversation skills, etc. This week, we moved into the realm of “empathy and kindness to others.” One morning this week, we were watching a video from Brene Brown, (the queen of empathy in my book).

The point of the video was to explain the difference in sympathy and empathy. To do so, it showed a fox falling into a pit. When his bear friend saw him there, he immediately climbed down into the pit with him. He knew he couldn’t fix the situation but understood that just being there… just climbing into the pit with the fox was the one thing he could offer. The mere act of sitting with the fox in his time of trouble was the bear’s way of showing he understood, he cared, and he was there.

After a while, a gazelle happened by and peered into the pit. “Oh my,” she exclaimed, “How terrible!” Then she went on acting as if all was normal – making small talk and offering to make a sandwich.

After watching this, my grandson asked, “So empathy is good, but sympathy is bad?”

“No,” I responded. “It is just a different way of responding.” Then I went on to explain…

It is different levels of commitment to the person hurting. Empathy is when we truly understand the other person’s pain. Maybe we have been there before. Either way, it is when we care so much that we can feel the depth of their pain and hurt. We can’t fix their pain, but we are willing to simply be there… to sit with them and hold their hand for as long as they need.

Sympathy is when we understand the other person is hurting, but maybe we don’t truly understand how bad the pain is or we aren’t close enough to the other person to truly feel their pain… Sympathy is still a kindness, it just doesn’t have the same depth of commitment.

This, then, led me to think of my own friendships… And how traumatic events have a way of separating our friends into those who are filled with empathy, those who offer sympathy, or those who just can’t deal with it at all and choose “none of the above” as they walk away from the relationship entirely.

Like most adults, I have been through several traumatic events in this lifetime. Each time I have had the same experience…

There have been friends who couldn’t handle it. For one reason of another (I will probably never know what those reasons were), they chose “None of the above.” For one reason or another, they simply excused themselves from caring, and moved on. However, for me, it felt like they simply made the choice to walk away.

Each time though, there have been other people who readily showed they cared. They were able to offer a hug or some nice words of comfort. There were times when they tried to offer well-meaning advice. (Although, generally speaking, they weren’t really around enough for that.) These were usually people who were in “my circle” but not my BFF’s. The fact that they cared meant a lot to me, and I appreciated their kindness and heartfelt sympathies.

Then, finally, there have been the people who were willing to climb down into the pit with me. These are the people who never tried to fix things… or me. They simply offered me the solace of their companionship. They have sat with me as I cried or hugged me in my darkest moments… And despite how hard it has been, they seem to always understand and are always there for me.

The craziest thing about this particular group… the thing that has surprised me the most every time is this… With the exception of my sister and one or two other people, this group is usually formed by people outside my closest relationships… These are people I may not have been particularly close to before the trauma. Yet, they are the people who understood the intensity of the pain and stepped in to help me bear it.

Of all the traumatic events I have experienced, I think losing Bruce has been the hardest. It has been over eight years, and I am still grieving. (Even as I write this, the tears are filling my eyes.) Even though I had experienced the different reactions of people before, I was (and still am) surprised by the people who have chosen to walk away… People I thought would be there for me come what may.

At the same time, though, I have also been just as shocked by the people who have stepped into my life… People who have held my hands as I worked my way through mountains of paperwork, and people who have sat with me and simply held me as I cried. These people – the ones who have blessed me with their unending empathy – are my heroes. I don’t know that I would have survived any crisis, especially the loss of Bruce, without these loving souls by my side.

So… To those who needed to walk away, that’s okay. We can only do what we are able to do in any given moment. To those who offered me your sympathy, thank you. Your caring words of comfort still fill my heart, and I appreciate your kindness.

And to those who have given me your empathy… In Barbara Brown Taylor’s book, Learning to Walk in the Dark, she says, “After years of being taught that the way to deal with painful emotions is to get rid of them, it can take a lot of reschooling to learn to sit with them instead.” This is what you have done for me… You helped me learn to sit with my grief. For this, I owe you my life, because I couldn’t have survived these past eight years without you… From the depths of my soul, Thank You!

Those of us on this journey know that grief is challenging. We know what it is like to watch friends walk away or for strangers to step up. Sometimes we may feel like this journey is nothing but a very lonely path, especially since it is so different for each of us. However, 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

* 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… My Own Journey

Time changes nothing on its own…
That is my job now.
This is a journey.
It is mine…
I must own it to survive it.
~ Linda, September 15, 2013

When I left my teaching career and joined the corporate world, travel quickly became a part of the job. Over the years I have traveled all over the continental U.S. – sometimes with others, most times alone. While this past year corporate travel has been restricted, either alone or with my little family, we have still rented homes and traveled here and there. We travel by car, keep our distance and are safe, but we do it because we just seem to have a need for a change of scenery. Sometimes we have gone to places that are so familiar it is almost like going home, and other times we have no idea where we are going or how to get there.

Without fail, we seem to always have a wonderful time. Yet, I can say without question that after being away for a while, it is always a treat to come back home. However, as anyone grieving can attest, the journey home isn’t always an easy one either…

I know… This is simply the way life is. Life is filled with journeys – true journeys and metaphorical journeys. It is how we grow and learn and develop. It is how we discover new things about ourselves and how we expand our lives. In fact, when we suffer loss, what is it called? Exactly – the world calls it a “grief journey.”

Like all journeys, there is something to be learned along this path… Unlike other journeys, we did not choose this one. It is not a path anyone would willingly take, but we weren’t given an option. And to make it a little bit more difficult, the only choices are to move forward or stand still. So many times, over the past few years, I have hesitated… not quite willing to take the next step. Eventually, though, I have managed to take a breath and put one foot in front of the other… moving tentatively until I get my bearings.

Last week, I wrote about when Bruce and I met while cruising in the Virgin Islands. So, it only seemed fitting that through the years of our marriage, we did a lot of traveling together. Like any journey, you learn a lot about a person when you travel with them. Bruce and I were no different. We learned right away that traveling in a car for any extended period of time was not the best idea. Why? Well, Bruce did not eat or drink while driving, and he liked it quiet. I, on the other hand, like to eat, drink, sing, talk, play games, etc. (In other words, I like to be entertained.) In fact, it was during one such trip from Michigan to Alabama that I learned Bruce didn’t like opera. I was driving and he was napping… So, to stay awake, I sang opera for hours. Guess who was not amused… Go figure! In all honestly, though, it was a good learning experience that we laughed about for years!

Several times I have written about the night Bruce died and the ride back home from the hospital – alone. It still feels like just yesterday… I can remember thinking that this would be my life now… always coming home alone to no one – just an empty house. What I did not realize was the enormity of what that would entail. Even all these years later, I can say that there are still days that can feel quite daunting. So much so that sometimes I find myself hesitating before I even get out of my car and walk inside.

The expanse of this lone journey began to dawn on me in the early weeks after Bruce’s death. I would turn the corner and see Bruce’s truck in the driveway. My first instinct was happiness and excitement. Bruce was home! Then, just as quickly, it would hit me full force and I would remember… Bruce was not home; no one was home. The only reason his truck sat there for as long as it did was because I couldn’t bring myself to sell it. Yet, even months later after I did (finally) sell his truck, I learned that coming home still wasn’t any easier.

In fact, there are still days when I find myself wishing with my whole being that he would be there to greet me when I walk through the door. While I no longer cry or breakdown, I think there will always be a part of me that secretly wishes for all of this to be a dream… That somehow I will wake up and he will be there waiting to greet me with a hug and a smile.

Right now, with my daughter and grandson here, it is easier to come on inside. There is almost always someone here to shout “hello” from another room, (although I know that will not always be the case). I know, the time will come again when I will come home to a house that is (again) quiet and empty. I am sure I will (at times) find myself sitting in the driveway for a few moments gathering my thoughts, my emotions (and my courage) before I go inside. Yet, I also know I will just as quickly remember how blessed I am to have shared this space with Bruce at all… And to still be able to live here… in this space that was ours. This space where I so often feel his presence and remember the love and life we shared.

I guess what I am saying is that through the years, I have learned to look (more often) at what I still have versus what I don’t. I am learning to look for the blessings and be thankful for them, which has been my way of moving forward through this journey.

We all know grief is challenging, and with some days or scenarios harder than others. Sometimes this journey can feel like a lonely path, especially since it is so different for each of us. However, 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. When we open our hearts to one another and take a chance, we can survive whatever lies ahead. 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

* 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… Valentine’s Challenge

Well, here we are again… Another Valentine’s Day. A day dedicated to love and snuggles, hearts and roses. It is also the time of year when Face Book is filled with some kind of “Valentine’s Challenge.” Some years it is as simple as “post a pic of the person you love,” and other years it is more detailed with something like “tell how you met the person you love.”

Honestly, I used to love these when Bruce was here. I loved bragging about this man I loved, telling stories of how we met or posting pictures… sharing all the small ways he would show his love, which weren’t small to me at all. However, when he died, I hated seeing all those posts… It sounds so selfish, but my grief over losing Bruce and jealousy of people whose lovers were still by their sides seemed overwhelming.

It has taken several years, and while the pain of losing Bruce is still there, I can now look at those posts from others and smile. I won’t lie and say that Valentine’s is a day I love… I think it will always be a reminder of the fact that Bruce and I are on different planes. However, this year I actually found myself smiling at posts about other couples… Remembering that feeling of love and pride has been good for my soul (even if there is still a part of me that wants to cry).

It’s hard to explain, but I’ve never thought people shouldn’t post about their loved ones. There was never a moment when I thought, “They shouldn’t do that because it causes me pain.” Somehow that would seem a bit hypocritical to me since I love talking about Bruce even now. Yet, I also know that if I were to add my story of how we met or post pictures of the two of us on those same challenges, it would make things very awkward, and that would never be my goal.

So instead… While it’s a story I know I have told before, I thought I would share it again… here… where it is safe… Because in my world, it is the greatest love story ever!

It all started on the island of St. Thomas. The year was 2004, and it was the day after Christmas. I was traveling with my (then) 17-year-old son. My daughters had been invited along, but each had other places to be in that last week before school would be back in session. We had been traveling since about 3 AM that morning, and both of us were tired but filled with excitement. As we boarded the 100-year-old sailing schooner with 123 other passengers and crew, we were greeted with island music and drinks. The charm and magic of the islands was on the breeze and in every breath we took.

Almost immediately, we were taken to the cozy dining room to fill out some forms. There were about six other people at our table, and we were all handed a stack of forms to fill out as we were seated. Immediately, I realized we had been given all these forms, but nothing with which to write. Being a teacher, I was prepared, and promptly started handing out pens and pencils. As I turned to the gentleman on my right, I couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. When I asked if he needed something to write with, he reached into his bag, pulled out a pen, smiled back and said, “No, thank you. I have one.”

I have to say, I was a little disappointed. I remember thinking how it would have been the perfect opportunity for him to borrow a pen, “forget” to give it back, and use that as an excuse to talk again later. Then again, maybe he just wasn’t interested…

That night, there was a steel band dance party on board. Everyone was laughing, dancing, and having a blast. As I went over to the bar for a drink, there he sat… quietly sipping a beer and watching the party. I sat down beside him to order my drink, and we started talking. He was so nice, and the conversation was easy… We didn’t have to work at it at all… It just flowed. We must have sat like that for about an hour, when suddenly at 10 pm, (like Cinderella at the ball), he stood up and said it had been a long day and he was heading to bed.

What?!? Who does that? Who just gets up and walks away in the middle of a conversation?? “Someone who isn’t that interested,” I told myself.

My son and I spent the next day exploring and parasailing. This was a trip of a lifetime, and we were determined to “do it all!” That night, as I went to get a drink, there was that same gentleman. Only this time, he waved me over to join him. I was a little skeptical, but figured “why not?” We sat there for several hours that night – talking and laughing. Other people came and went – some joining our conversation while others just listened. The longer I sat there, the more charming he seemed. However, I was determined, he wasn’t going to abandon me again. So, at 10 pm before he could say a word, I turned the tables… I told him it had been a long day and said “goodnight.”

I always laugh when I tell that part of the story… What a waste of a perfectly good evening! But I was determined, I could be just as aloof or mysterious as he could.

The next day, my son and I had signed up for a kayaking trip. As we were standing in line to get our kayaks, our guide announced that there weren’t enough single kayaks, which meant he needed 6 people to volunteer to double up. Those six would use three double kayaks. My son turned to me and asked if I minded if he went in a single kayak and ran to join up with his friends in the front. I had told him sure but actually I was a little wary about what that would mean for me. Just then, Bruce walked up from behind and asked if I wanted to share a kayak with him. Did I?? Um… of course!

As it turns out, though, my son was more observant than I would have guessed. Before Bruce and I could locate a kayak, Alex was back by my side telling me that he was going to ride with me, after all. Then, he turned to Bruce and pointed to the single kayak he had been about to use. “You can use that one. I’m gonna stick with my Mom,” he said. (Talk about a proper chaperone!)

That night, the crew took the passengers on shore to a bar called Duffy’s Love Shack. We filled the place, and I found myself dancing mostly with Bruce and the ship’s captain… What a blast! At one point, I was standing at the bar waiting for my drink when Bruce walked over to join me. We stood there talking for a minute, when the magic hit, and he leaned down and gently kissed me… That was our first kiss, and I will always remember how wonderful I felt… It was so perfect!

As the week went on, my son and I spent our days together. Then at night, my son would go off with the other teens on the boat, and Bruce and I would hang out on deck – talking, laughing, dancing, and drinking. It was the best time I could have ever imagined!

The week passed quickly, and our last night on board was New Years Eve. As Bruce and I were dancing, one of the passengers walked by and said that there was something special about the two of us, and if we were smart, we wouldn’t stop when we got off the boat. I remember Bruce looking down at me and saying that he agreed… He really felt like he could fall in love with me.

That was it… I wasn’t looking for love! I had been married for over 20 years, and I wasn’t interested in doing that again. So, I did what I have always done… I ran away. Well, actually, I excused myself to go to the restroom, but instead I went back to my cabin and went to bed. It wasn’t long before Bruce tapped on the door to see if I was okay. I don’t remember what I said, but I am sure it amounted to “I’m tired, please go away.”

The next day as we were all waiting to disembark, Bruce came over and sat down next to me. I told him that I was sorry if I had led him on, but I was only there to have fun… We lived over 1000 miles apart… I was a Catholic School teacher, and he was a truck driver… This would never work. He didn’t say much – just nodded that he understood. Then, he made an excuse about getting more coffee and walked away.

Then… I cried all the way home… Deep in my gut I knew I had just walked away from the best thing that had ever happened to me…

But the story didn’t end there (obviously)… As it turned out, all the passengers that week had become a tight knit group. We set up a group site on the internet and exchanged pictures, email addresses, and phone numbers. It only took a day or two, before I decided I had made a mistake, and I wanted to fix it… I was terrified, but I reached out to Bruce to see if we really could “make this work.”

And as they say… the rest is history.

Six weeks later, I was on my way to Michigan to spend some time with this man. (This weekend is the anniversary of that trip.) We wanted to see if this really was more than a shipboard romance. (It was!) Then, ten months later, I found myself moving to Michigan, and we were married.

I have no regrets about any of this – from the day we met to the day we were married and to the day he died … I am convinced that every moment happened the way it was meant to. Like any relationship, we had our ups and downs, but ours was probably the easiest relationship I have ever experienced. I know I was blessed to have known a love like ours, and I will always be grateful for the time we had. I also believe that he is waiting for me on the “other side,” and one day, we will laugh together again…

Because a love like ours never dies…

I know grief is challenging, and today can be a hard one if you have lost the love of your life. Sometimes this journey can feel like the loneliest path since it is different for each of us. However, 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. When we open our hearts to one another and take a chance, we can survive whatever lies ahead. 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. Maybe you could share the story of how you met? 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

* 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… Laugh, Cry, or Turn Away

It dawned on me today that I have been keeping myself busy… terribly busy. I work a full-time job, homeschool my grandson, and if there is a moment when one might think I would sit and relax, I will find something to do… I think, (or maybe I know), that I am avoiding slowing down enough to think. Because when I do that… when I slow down enough, my thoughts eventually come around to Bruce, and the fact that he is gone. Then, it becomes way too easy to fall down that rabbit hole of overwhelming sadness.

Why now? I’m not sure, but I think it may be because these past few months are the hardest for me when it comes to his loss. I don’t know… Maybe it would be better to just let myself have a good cry and get it out. However, I am afraid that if I do that, I might not be able to stop.

I’m telling you this for a couple of reasons. First, I feel pretty certain many of you understand that. I am sure I am not the only one who still experiences prolonged periods of grief that seem to pop up for no real reason. Second, I am wondering if this avoidance of my feelings might be making me a little bit sensitive to other things… Although, that part I’m not so sure about.

I know I tend to be a sensitive person to begin with… I don’t tend to look for things to get upset about, nor do I take everything personally. Honestly, if you don’t tell me something is about me, it is just a lot easier to assume it isn’t. I’m referring to being sensitive to other people and what they are feeling… I just think if more people thought about how someone else might feel before saying or doing some of the things we do, the world might be a more peaceful, loving place… maybe…

That very thought hit me in the face this week… What if someone had taken just a moment more to think before sending me something that left me wondering whether to laugh, cry, or just turn the other way…

Like most of the world, I am in a few on-going group texts… No big deal… None of them have more than three or four people involved. These are my friends and family – people I love. When my phone starts to ping, sometimes I jump in and sometimes I don’t. It all depends on what I am doing, if I have time, and if I really have anything to add to the conversation… Like I said – no big deal.

A few nights ago, in one of those conversations, someone sent a transcript of a comedian’s take on burials. More specifically, it was about how bodies are “laid in caskets with pillows”, and “why”, and “is that really necessary”, and “where do we think they are going.” It’s a little bit hard to explain, but the moment I read it, I was instantly taken aback… Seriously?

I instantly felt like someone had just taken all the oxygen from the room. Granted, I do realize there was a degree of humor in it for some people. I get that… But there was no preamble or warm-up to it… It wasn’t part of a conversation that had somehow ended up there. Instead, it just came out of thin air.

And why include me? And why now? Anyone who is close to me has a pretty good idea that I wouldn’t find it funny… But there it was, and tears immediately came to my eyes as I thought about Bruce… My Bruce is gone… cremated… laid in a pine box and… all decisions I had to make…

I can’t… I can’t go there… When I do, I feel like I can’t breathe.

I know I did what he said he wanted. We even sprinkled his ashes where he requested… but it wasn’t easy… Those choices aren’t easy… and they aren’t a joke. When Bruce died, I had only been to four funerals in my whole life. Of those, I had never helped make any of the arrangements. I had no idea what I was supposed to do or how to do it. I didn’t know who to call. I didn’t know what to ask for or what choices I needed to make… And to be clear, they were all choices I didn’t want to make.

Honestly, since these are choices that have to be made immediately, I was still in shock… just going through the motions and doing what I thought people were telling me I should. I don’t remember a lot, but I do remember the people who helped walk me through it. I remember going to the funeral home with my sister and Bruce’s sisters. I remember they had to answer most of the questions because I couldn’t… At that point, Bruce’s death just felt like a nightmare and all I wanted to do was to wake up… To think that at some point, someone would think it was all a joke… something to be taken so lightly and laughed about… well, that stung…

The night the text came, I wasn’t sure how to respond. I didn’t want to react out of my own emotions (which I knew were too high)… Should I act like it was fine and send an “LOL?” Should I let myself cry and say how hurtful it was? Or… should I just turn off my phone and let them have that conversation without me? I chose the last option… I said nothing. Instead, I turned off my phone and turned away…

But… there is a part of me that wanted to say “Hey, that really wasn’t cool… You have no idea what you are saying or what you are laughing at.” But then again, that is exactly why I didn’t say anything… Because they truly have no idea.

The people who shape their world day in and day out… The people who make up the other half of their soul are still right there beside them. They are so blessed… So, I guess if I had said anything at all that would be it… Enjoy that blessing. Breathe in every wonderful moment that you are together, and hold them close… Take comfort in the fact that you have no idea how earth-shattering and hard those decisions are, or how awful it is when they are gone… I wish I had no idea… I wish I had the luxury of thinking those jokes were funny…

Please, don’t get me wrong. I know I have more of blessings in my life than I can count. This just isn’t one of them… And I guess it was a little bit hard to be reminded of that this week.

Death is hard, and grief, I believe, is harder. There are hard choices and decisions that have to be made. While for each of us, it creates a different path… a different journey, we aren’t alone. Yes, it can sometimes feel like an emotional roller coaster. Some days (or weeks) are better than others, and there are still other weeks where we wonder if we will make it through. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean… 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

* 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 Room

Lately, my nighttime television go-to has been Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix. In one of the episodes this week, one of the surgeons was struggling emotionally in the middle of a surgery. When one of the other surgeons questioned her, she responded by saying that the room they were in was the same one where her husband had died just a few weeks (episodes) earlier. I know it is just a show, but still… my heart broke for her character.

It also got me thinking…

Have you ever driven down the road and seen the memorials on the side of the road? Markers of a space where someone died… Someone who was loved and is still missed. Sometimes it is a simple sign, and other times it is a decorated memorial with items that would have meaning for the person that was lost. It doesn’t matter how simple or decorated they might be, they seem to always catch my attention. Each time, a silent prayer for those who grieve that person crosses my mind… My heart breaks as I experience a glimmer of understanding into their pain.

Then, it dawned on me… Bruce died here… in this house… in our room… in our bed. Yet, I don’t struggle with being here. In fact, the idea of ever moving away is the thing that would bring me more grief. Maybe it’s strange, but I love being here. I love this space that we used to share. Even now, when it doesn’t look anything like it did when he was here, I find comfort in being in this space.

I think I simply love the idea that this space was ours.

When we were first married, I moved into his condo up in Michigan. It was our home, and I have fond memories there. However, through no fault of his, it always felt like it was more “his” than “ours”. Next, we lived in an apartment for a short time when we first moved here, but I don’t think either of us ever felt like it was our home. It was simply a temporary space… A place to sleep until we found a place to live.

Then, we found this little place… a tiny little house near the ocean that felt like us. Bruce added a few touches, such as fans, gutters, and new light fixtures, but nothing major. It fit us perfectly just like it was. We both loved it here.

Bruce loved having a garage to putter in, and the water nearby where he could take the boat and go fishing. We both loved the screened porch, where we could grill or just sit and talk. (Darts quickly became a favorite past time out there.) And, to make the space even more special, he made one of my dreams come true by building me a good, old, southern joggling board – something I still love to this day.

I can remember dancing in the kitchen while we cooked together. Then later, playing foosball to decide who would be the one to clean the kitchen. I used to love sitting snuggled up on the couch while we watched MASH or Andy Griffith before calling it a night. And… some of my favorite memories are those times when we simply laid in the bed quietly talking – sometimes remembering how we had started and other times dreaming about where we wanted to go from there.

There are so many wonderful memories within these walls! Sure, I remember the night he died. Obviously, that is a time that is engraved in my heart forever… but, luckily for me, that night has never stripped me of my love for this space and my memories of us. I know there are people who have been in similar situations and had different responses to the space. I am sure that for some, the pain is too much, and the need to leave too great. I remember before I met Bruce, I dated a widow who had moved less than a mile down the road after his wife died. He loved the town, but he couldn’t stay in their home. I remember he told me that he couldn’t handle having her memory in every room. That is understandable… We are all different and respond to our losses in different ways.

I know, when you are a widow, it can be hard to find things that are connected to your loss that you can say “thank you” for… I get it. However, when it comes to this home, I feel blessed! This house was ours,… and in my heart, it still is. Yes, I will never forget that this is the house… the room where Bruce died… But more importantly, this is the room… the house where Bruce lived… This is the place where we both shared our lives and our love.

So, for me this isn’t a place where I struggle to function… Far from it. This is a place where I still feel Bruce in every room. This is the place where I find solace and comfort all around me… This is the place where my heart finds peace.

Grief is hard. It creates a different path… a different journey for each of us. For some of us, this journey can sometimes be an emotional roller coaster. Some days (or weeks) are better than others, and there are still other weeks where we wonder if we will make it through. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean… 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

* 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… Grieving for All of Us

“A house divided against itself, cannot stand.“
~ Abraham Lincoln

This week, as our nation continues to divide itself, I am grieving… for all of us. I keep wondering how in the world we got to such a place… Yes, I know the history behind this week takes us back many, many years. However, I am talking about this newest phenomenon… I am referring to this space where the only opinions many people want to hear are those that mirror their own. Anything else and there is a complete and total disconnect. No longer is there a mutual respect, which not only allows for different opinions, but it also allows us to sit down and respectfully discuss those opinions.

But not in today’s world… not anymore. Now, we have friends and families divided – completely divided and turning on each other – and for what?? Because one side has to be the only right side? Because the idea that maybe that isn’t so, can’t be discussed or tolerated.

Just this week, as my daughter and I sat in a restaurant, we found ourselves whispering about the latest news stories – too afraid to talk out loud for fear of violence from the strangers sitting around us. When the waitress walked up without us realizing it, and tried to join in, we completely stopped talking… Again, too afraid of any repercussions that people today somehow feel are their “right” to carry out.

I grieve deeply as I see friends and families hurl insults and accusations at one another on social media… Or dig in their heels about theories rather than listening to one another, searching for truth and facts, talking rationally, and letting the constitution with all its checks and balances function the way it is meant to.

I grieve for all of this. I have friends and family on both sides of the political arena, and whether I agree with their opinions or not, I still love them. If we can have a respectful discussion – great! If that can’t happen, (and there are times when it can’t), I don’t hesitate to say, “We can’t talk about this,” and I move the conversation to something else… But it grieves me…

After Bruce died, I struggled to understand why that had to happen… And now, with all of this craziness, I am struggling again… struggling to understand this loss, as well. For goodness sake, how in the world did we let it get to this point?

While each person may be different, I honestly don’t believe this started last week, or two months ago, or even four years ago. I think this has been a cancer that has been allowed to grow over many years and for many reasons. For the mainline population, I think many people simply stopped holding the information they ingest accountable, as well as their own responses to it. People stopped looking for truth. If someone they trusted said something, suddenly that was good enough to be truth.

Then, to add to the mix, many people started getting so caught up in “their rights,” they forgot about responsibility and respect. I don’t know about everyone else, but I was always taught that our lives need to include a balance of all three – rights, responsibility, and respect… But somewhere along the line, we have lost that… And I grieve for that loss.

As functional parents, we would never let any of our children demand their own way, then fight with each other to achieve it. We don’t tolerate name-calling or let them destroy each other’s property in order to get their own way. Instead, we teach them to think rationally… to look for a better solution… to talk to each, get to the root of the issue (with our help, if necessary), and find a way to work it out in a peaceful manner. We teach them that violence is not the answer. Why? Because we are trying to also teach them to have respect and responsibility for each other and the family. Because we know, “A house divided against itself…”

So… why are we as adults not holding ourselves to the same standard?

I am not writing this to be political… I don’t want to start a political commentary or discussion. I am simply saying that I am grieving because I miss us… All of us… A group of vastly different people with various opinions who were once able to talk about those differences while still caring about each other and working together… with none of us demanding our own way…

I miss that… I grieve the loss of that… And I also hope (and pray) that enough of us feel this same way… Enough of us are grieving what we have become and are willing to work as hard as we can, in order to find our way back to one another.

I know, this week I have strayed from my usual topic… Then again, maybe I haven’t. After all, we all grieve… We grieve for all kinds of people and things… This week I am just happen to be grieving for all of us… every single one…

Grief is hard. For some of us, this can create an emotional roller coaster. As for me, I thank you for the continued opportunity to share my feelings and experiences with you… (Like the ones this week.) It makes me feel as if there are others out there who understand what I mean… 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

* 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… All I Want for Christmas

“All I want for Christmas is you.” ~ Mariah Carey & Walter Afanasieff

Today, I sit here listening to the Christmas music on the radio and staring at the lights on our tree. It’s beautiful… It’s all so beautiful.

So why am I crying?

After all, my entire life I have loved this season. I love everything about it… But this year, I am struggling to find the Christmas spirit. I’m trying! I really am, but it feels so elusive this year… What’s wrong with me?

Despite the craziness in the world right now, our family has been so blessed this year. We have loved having this time together as a family. Instead of spending our days rushing from one thing to the next, it has been so nice to just enjoy the simple things like family walks, playing games, doing puzzles, and even making up our own crazy, three-person version of badminton. It’s all been pretty fun… And now with the holidays, we are relearning how to enjoy this season without all the parades and parties. Instead, we are keeping this simple too. It’s different, but I love it. I do! It’s great!

So why am I struggling?

I know part of it is that despite the years, I still wish Bruce were here to share it… I hate that he is gone. I hate doing this without him (again). I would give anything for just one more holiday season with him. That is really all I want for Christmas – to be able to share all the things I love about this season with him just one more time… But that isn’t to be… And that makes me sad.

I have found myself crying every night this week. It’s not just that I miss Bruce – although that is a huge piece of it. It’s more than that. You see, most days, I can almost feel him next to me, and that brings me a certain peace… Many times, that is what gets me through those days when the world around me feels overwhelming, as well as those nights when I find myself reaching out in the dark to find emptiness beside me.

The last few days, though, I haven’t felt that… I haven’t felt him near me. I haven’t felt that peace… I feel like I am on my own, (which I know, I technically am)… But it feels different. It’s hard to explain.

When Bruce died, I felt lost… abandoned… completely hopeless. I didn’t really care what the next day held, because no matter what a day might hold, it would be without Bruce. However, as time has passed, I really have learned to feel hope again… I have learned to appreciate the brevity of life and the preciousness of each moment. I think that is why I am struggling with the season this year… There is an inner struggle between missing what was and appreciating what is.

I treasure the memories of our Christmases together. Yet, I don’t want to miss out on the memories we are making this year. I know this time is precious too… I just wish there were a way to have it all – Christmas now… but with Bruce, too.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yXQViqx6GMY&ab_channel=MariahCareyVEVO

I know it’s okay to feel what I feel. I know I can’t work through a feeling, if I don’t allow myself to feel it in the first place. So, I guess, I will keep this simple too… I will be good to myself. I will surround myself with people who love me and understand. I will ask for lots of extra hugs and patience, as I find my way through my emotions and this season.

In the end, I know I won’t get all I want for Christmas. No matter how hard I wish it, Bruce will not be here. That is reality. However, I truly believe that over the next few days, I can find that spirit of love and hope because of the people around me… People I love… People I treasure… People I keep close to my heart…

The holidays can hard, confusing, and an emotional roller coaster, when you are experiencing grief. Grief changes how we look at life and the world around us. It changes how we experience everything. This can make it hard to find the Christmas spirit and even harder to celebrate. Sometimes the best we can do is to just keep trying – don’t quit… don’t give up on yourself. Ask for what you need. Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would 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

* 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 I Miss…

Throughout this season the memories seem to come fast and furious. Each tradition… each decoration holds a memory. While at the same time, we are busy creating new ones. I become nostalgic when those memories are from my own childhood. My kids and I often find ourselves laughing at some of the memories from their childhood. When the memories involve Bruce, I find myself missing him and wishing he were here. And the funny thing is most of the time these are all happening at once.

For example,…

I can remember my grandfather stuffing everyone into his car and driving us downtown to see all the lights. When my kids were little, I kept this tradition… Every Christmas Eve, I loaded all the kids into the car, and off we went to see the neighborhood lights. When Bruce and I got married, he knew right away how much I love Christmas lights. (Mainly because I don’t hide it very well.) I remember how excited he was that first year when he continued the tradition and took me to one of those huge drive-through light displays. In fact, we went every year, even when we moved here to Florida.

To this day, that is still one of my favorite traditions… In fact, the other day on our way home from dinner, my daughter took a short detour. Suddenly, there we were driving around looking at lights. It was wonderful… and at the same time, I just kept wishing Bruce were there, too…

Decorating the tree is another one… As a kid, I used to love decorating the tree. My parents always waited until mid-December, and by that time, my excitement level was over the top. With my own kids, we always bought our tree the weekend after Thanksgiving, and started decorating it right away. Each of the kids had their own “special” decorations that they loved to put on the tree, so it was a process… But it was a fun process.

When Bruce and I got married, he added another tradition… We didn’t just buy a tree. According to his family tradition, we went to a tree farm where the youngest child picked the tree. That first year it was my youngest who got to do honors. Then, Bruce laid on his belly in the snow and cut it down. (Just thinking about that day, makes my heart warm.)

Eventually, it was just the two of us, so we changed it up a bit. Since we had met at Christmas time in the tropics, we decided to change out the fir tree for a palm tree. This new tradition was original, and it was perfectly “us.” Every year, even since he died, that palm tree has been strung up with lights… And it makes me smile.

Now, there a is child in the house again. So, we are back to the huge fir tree with all the decorations from when my kids were little, plus all the new ones collected through the last few years. It is overloaded, and it is beautiful. I love how it smells. I love the lights. I love the decorations and the stories they hold. I love all of it… and at the same time, I just keep wishing Bruce were here to love it, too…

Then, there is the music… I love Christmas music! I have sung in choirs since I was about three years old, and Christmas time always meant special songs and special performances… As a child, I loved the white robes with the huge red bows, as much as the Nativity costumes where I inevitably was dressed as an angel complete with halo and wings.

As an adult, I also directed choirs, so there was a whole new excitement and preparation for the season. (Actually, I think I just enjoyed the excuse to start listening and singing Christmas music much earlier than would otherwise be acceptable.) Either way, through the years, Christmas became synonymous with Christmas music – there was never one without the other. Christmas always meant rehearsals and concerts… Music seemed to fill every extra minute (if there even is such a thing) during this season.

After Bruce and I were married, even he learned to love the Christmas music… His favorites were the Charlie Brown Soundtrack and the John Denver and Muppets Christmas Album. I used to love coming home to find one of those playing on the stereo, and him humming along as he cooked… It was simply perfect!

After he died, I stopped singing… I just couldn’t do it anymore. It took a couple of years before I could sing again… And it was Christmas music that re-ignited my heart and my voice. For the first few years, I hadn’t been able to even listen to it. Then one year, as I was driving, John Denver and the Muppets singing The Twelve Days of Christmas came on the radio. Without even thinking about it, I found myself singing along… and smiling. It seemed that while I had lost my passion to sing when he died, somehow, here he was giving that gift back to me years later.

This year, I am simply humming… Due damage to my vocal folds from the radiation treatments years ago, I can no longer sing. I can hum though! So, even now, Christmas music is playing just about 24/7… and I am humming along with every song, while my grandson, (who now knows all the words), sings along. I love it! It makes me smile all day long… and at the same time, I just keep wishing Bruce were here, too…

I love this season. I love everything about it…. I simply wish Bruce were here to share it… Just one more time… Just one more season… Because that is what I miss most – sharing all the things I love about this season with him.

This can be a hard, confusing, emotional season when you are experiencing deep grief. Grief changes how we look at life and the world around us. It changes how we experience the holidays. This can make it hard to celebrate and even harder to be joyful. Yet, it is in remembering and finding those blessings that we are able to celebrate at all.

Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. What are the things you miss most about the way you shared this season with your loved one? Have you had to make any changes in order to navigate this season? How do you manage those? We would love to hear your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

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

* 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.