Tag: mourn

Peace, Love and Grief… A Season to Be Still

“Be still and know that I am God.” ~ Psalm 46:10

Springtime is always a time when the pace of life seems to pick up. The weather is more conducive for getting outdoors, and even in normal times, people are ready to get together again and just enjoy life. Last year, we were just starting to see the effects of the pandemic. Instead of getting together, most of us retreated in an effort to stay safe and healthy. This year, most of us admittedly are tired of the restraints, but still following them for the same reasons. (Yet, I yearn for some time with friends.)

In our house, though, life is still definitely picking up the pace. One of my daughters is getting married this summer, so there are plans and decisions to be made… And so many things to do, it makes my head swim. Because she is getting married, they are also building a house. Again, so many plans and decisions to be made, and so many things to do… And I’m just sitting on the sidelines! After a year of sitting quietly, this is busy!

These things they are working towards are exciting milestones in life, which means there are emotions attached, as well… Feelings of excitement and hope, (and sometimes stress and frustration). For me as a parent, they are also a reminder of doing those same things with Bruce… Our wedding, and the purchase of our home together here in Florida. Over the past few weeks, I have found myself crying tears of joy for them, and tears of grief for me… And usually all at the same time…

I have said many times in the past that grief is a maddening experience. It is. It is a time of struggle and emotional chaos. It is a time of trying to make sense of something that simply doesn’t make sense. Everything I thought I knew is gone, and I have spent the last 8+ years relearning how to live. That is maddening… That is grief.

Yet, I have done this long enough to know what I need to do… I just need to be still for a while…

I learned early on this journey that my spirituality was what I needed to build up in order to survive this loss. I had to explore what I thought I knew and find my own way in the dark. It has taken a long time, but I have worked hard to bring my heart and mind together to create a spirit of peace and love.

It wasn’t easy, though…

From the very beginning, despite my anger and distrust toward God, a certain verse ran through my mind constantly. This verse has never had any special significance for me in the past, so I have no logical way to explain it… I won’t even try. I simply believe I needed to hear those words, and they have been a true source of strength for me through the past eight years.

“Be still and know that I am God.“

I couldn’t get those words out of my head. I wrote them in my journal. I mulled over them in the quiet moments. They were a constant in the back of my mind, and despite my anger, I couldn’t make them go away. There was something there for me, I felt it. I was looking for some type of comfort… something to bring peace to my soul, and I came to believe that the secret was somewhere in these words. It was… but probably not in the way most people might think.

It wasn’t about church or religion. It wasn’t about “do’s” and “don’ts.” It was much deeper than that, and at the same time, it was much simpler… It was a simplicity I learned it by watching Bruce and reflecting on how he lived such a genuine life with no pretense or games.

First of all, Bruce was not a “church-goer.” (He would go if I asked, but it wasn’t his thing.) Instead, you could find him on any Sunday morning sitting in his lounge chair with his coffee and his Sudoku, watching Meet the Press. At the same time, I have never known anyone to live a life more true to the principles of God, acceptance, and unconditional love. He was a genuine man with a sweet, gentle spirit and a simple faith. I watched him place a cross in his pocket each morning and heard him pray every night. Then, he just lived what he believed – no sermons or lectures, no push for anyone to think his way. He just lived it.

To him, it was that simple. He never found God in a building… He believed God was found in how you lived your life… In how you chose to fill your heart. So back to that verse, “Be still and know that I am God.” It took me a while to figure out what I needed to get out of those words. For the longest time after Bruce died, I couldn’t even pray… I was too angry. I didn’t want to be still, and I certainly didn’t want to “hear” anything from God. (I wasn’t interested in anything he might have to say.)

Then one day, while reading one of Bruce’s books on philosophy and spiritualism, it hit me. This verse doesn’t say anything about God talking or me listening. It simply says to “be still.”

The only action required was no action. For me, that meant a practice of sitting quietly, breathing deeply and purposely not thinking. In other words, the practice of meditation… An action of clearing my mind; not filling it. It meant the age old practice of simply being in that specific moment. Then letting your breath carry you to the next moment and then the next… Nothing more.

That was exactly what I needed… And what I still need, especially now, in this season… to slow down… to be still. I know when I allow myself the time to be still, both physically and mentally, I automatically reconnect to my God. This is turn grows within me a connection of spirit and peace. It is not about religious rules or being good enough… It isn’t about the contentment of making the “right” decision or the longing for days long gone.

Instead, through those quiet, still moments, I have learned that I can let go of the chaos or sadness. I have learned that I can rest peacefully – trusting that God is sitting quietly beside me… holding me close – no more, no less. I believe that he is my Source, and this life as we see it, is not all there is. There is more… so much more. I just have to remember to take the time to be still… and know peace…

This grief journey has been one of the greatest challenges I have ever had. This journey has broken me down to the roots of my soul and has taken me years to feel some semblance of “normal.” 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

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… Walking in the Dark

Over the past several weeks, I have been reading Barbara Brown Taylor’s book, Learning to Walk in the Dark. It is a spiritual book about our conviction to assign good with light and bad with dark, whether physical, spiritual, psychologically, etc. In the book, she makes the argument that there is good and bad in both the light and the dark… That to live a full life we not only need to experience both, we need to accept both as neither good nor bad… Instead, each are necessary with their own rhythms, qualities, and comforts. Without one, there is no way to appreciate and fully understand the other.

I love that idea. Sure, I will readily admit that I am the first one to turn on all the lights as the sun goes down. I am sure it is my vain attempt to keep the darkness “out there” while lighting up the world around me. But… is that necessary? And when applied as an analogy, is that the best way to live?

I’m really not here to debate that… In fact, as I write this, while it is the middle of the day, a storm is rolling in and it is dark enough at my table that I have turned on the light above me. But then again, the author didn’t say light was bad either… Her point is to accept both as they are… not to assign qualities that aren’t there.

This week, I have found myself pondering this over and over. In fact, there was one section that I can’t seem to let go…

“To be human is to live by sunlight and moonlight, with anxiety and delight, admitting limits and transcending them, falling down and rising up. To want a life with only half of these things in it is to want half a life, shutting the other half away where it will not interfere with one’s bright fantasies of the way things ought to be.”

~ Barbara Brown Taylor, Learning to Walk in the Dark

This section has had me contemplating my life since Bruce died… I know I have used darkness in many analogies about grief… I suppose that is because it feels true for me. Yet, I am afraid of walking down this path with grief as my lantern. There is a fear of this path that is hard to describe… It is a fear of being alone… and a fear of not being alone… There is the dread of being abandoned, and yet I no longer seem to welcome new friendships with the open arms I once did.

That is when I realized, as scared as I am to be on this path… to walk in the dark… I believe I may be just as scared, if not more so, to get off. I guess, the unknown darkness has become familiar. Or… Perhaps I am terrified of ever going through anything like Bruce’s death ever again. I don’t know that I would survive it a second time.

Yes, I know I will experience more death in the time ahead… That is life and I am getting older, and that just is what it is. However, the idea of opening up enough to let anyone new into my life and then losing them… I can’t do it… I just don’t have enough of whatever that takes. The darkness I felt all around me after Bruce died was blinding… I was numb for so long… unable to feel… not wanting to move… or breathe… just sitting in my darkness and letting it envelope me.

While it has been a few years since I felt that way, I can remember that feeling like it was only this morning, and I don’t want to go back there. There are still days when I must remind myself that life is good, and I am blessed. When I think of Bruce, there are still days when I have to decide whether I am going to remember our time together and smile or think of his death and cry. I’m not trying to be melodramatic; I am just being honest about what this felt like then, and what it still feels like.

It may seem strange, but some of the best comfort I have found over the years comes when I think of my grandfather. We called him, Pop, and he was a huge piece of my life. My father wasn’t around much in my younger years, but my Pop, well… he was always there. They lived behind us, and he always had time for this silly little girl who just wanted to be hugged and held.

I sat by him in church whenever I could finagle it. I loved sitting in his lap on Sunday afternoons… The two of us in his big old chair with my head on his chest – listening to him talk and laugh. The summer I learned to drive, he took me in his car, and we drove around the block… over and over and over… No matter what was going on in my life, I always knew he would be there.

But life wasn’t easy for him; he was a man who had a rough start in life. Both of his parents died when he was younger, and he was sent to live with his aunts. After 7th grade, he had to quit school and go to work to support the family. Yet, as I remember him, he always had a smile. He never backed away from life’s challenges but seemed to meet them head on. And why? To me, it just seemed like he had a faith that knew no bounds. One of his favorite hymns, which seemed to express his faith, was How Great Thou Art…

This week I needed to hear that song… At the time, I didn’t know why. Yet, when I hunted it down and listened, so much seemed clear… I think I simply needed a piece of Pop’s faith… When the words came, “I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder. Thy power throughs out the universe displayed. Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee. How great Thou art, how great Thou art,” * it hit me… Pop had not only learned to walk in the dark, but he also had learned to find the good there… the blessings and comfort that lay quietly within its rhythms.

His faith allowed him to see that even when it was dark, God provided stars to light the way… Even when the thunder rolls, God is near…. Because of his faith, I understood – I am not on this path alone… and grief is not my only light. There is a peace here in the darkness… a peace that, with time, can build in me the courage I need to live fully by sunlight and by moonlight.

* How Great Thou Art, original poem by Carl Gustav Boberg

Grief is challenging. It can feel like the loneliest path at times since it creates a different path for each of us. However, just because our journeys may be different, it doesn’t mean we have to be alone. We can find courage and strength in one another. We can shyly open our hearts to one another and take a chance that 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… 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… Not a Day for Celebrating

“I haven’t heard your voice in years,
But my heart has conversations with you every day.”
~ all-greatquotes.com

It’s hard to believe another year has passed without him… Eight years… I have struggled with this reality this week, and my emotions are all over the place.

Mostly I miss him… I sit and listen to music that we always had playing here at home, (Jimmy Buffet, Kenny Chesney, Bob Marley, and Rod Stewart). Each song invokes another memory… A moment in time captured in my heart. This week, that has meant the tears well up in my eyes and slide slowly down my cheeks. At this point, it feels like all the air has been squeezed out of my lungs, and my heart hurts – literally hurts. I usually end up just sitting down on the floor, either trying to pull myself back together, or I find myself talking to Bruce and telling him how hard this is… And asking why he had to leave me here… without him.

I have also laughed this week as my family has shared stories and memories about this man we all loved. I love to hear my grandson, who was a mere three years old when Bruce died, tell a story about Bruce. More than likely, he is remembering stories he has been told, but to hear him tell them, makes me smile… Actually, it makes us all smile.

There has also been another emotion this week. One I used to feel a lot back in the beginning, (but was too ashamed to talk about). Not one I usually have now-a-days. Yet, I have definitely felt it more and more lately… I’m talking about anger. I’m mad. I haven’t been mad – really mad – at Bruce for dying in years. However, with the chaos happening in our country, I am.

I’m kind of ashamed to admit it, but I am…

When Bruce was here, I always called him my gentle giant… He was one of those people who wouldn’t hurt a flea. That is unless his family was threatened. Then, that was a different story. He would do whatever he felt was necessary to protect those he loved. It didn’t happen often, but more than once I watched as he did exactly that… It might mean something as small as installing additional locks around the house or putting himself between me and whatever threat he felt was around. Then again, it might mean taking on a group of men down in the islands with no thought to his odds since there were four of them and only one of him. Whatever it was, though, he seemed to always feel like it was his job to ensure that those he loved were safe.

This week as I have watched the news and all that has unfolded (so far), I am scared. I am scared of where all of this may lead… I’ve said for years, this was the direction we were heading, but I have prayed I was wrong… Evidently, I wasn’t… And now, I have to face whatever is coming without his protection… And I know it’s silly, but that makes me mad.

And I don’t understand…

Tomorrow will include a lot of memories from our last day together – from the kisses as we left for work in the morning to the kisses as we crawled into bed that night. Then, I have to face Tuesday… It will be 8 years since I awoke in the wee hours of the morning to the sounds of Bruce dying… Once again, I will relive those horrific hours of calling 911, doing CPR, the ride to the hospital, the doctor telling me he was gone, sitting with his body in disbelief, the ride back home, walking into the house, seeing the disarray left by EMS…. And wandering throughout the house, not knowing what to do… Not even sure if I could even take the next breath.

I always take these days off from work. I have to… Not to celebrate… This is not a day for celebrating. A celebration is the furthest thing from my mind. It is a day of absolute and total grief for me. It is day of trying to make sense of something that makes no sense. I don’t think it will matter how many years pass, this day will always be a reminder of how much I loved him… and how much I lost… A reminder that life can change in a breath, and the best we can do is to hang onto those we love while we can… because we never know what the next moment will bring.

I don’t think it really matters how long you loved someone… I think grief is more about how much you loved them. Each year, we must face the anniversary of that loss, and it is hard. It is a reminder that we are still here, and they aren’t. 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 and what I feel.

It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

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