Peace, Love and Grief… Life with a purpose

Hey Beautiful,
… I’ve spent 10 years living day by day just knowing you were out there somewhere and knowing that somewhere, somehow we would meet. I tried not to think about it. I was just trying to be a good dad and give <my daughter> what she needed. I really believe God has a plan and I was just going to have faith and let it happen. Now it’s happened and I thank God and can’t wait to see you again. You’ve given me a fresh outlook on life and I have a purpose again. Thank you!

I love you so much!
Bruce, March, 2005

Life with a purpose… isn’t that what we are all looking for in some way? I remember when Bruce wrote this letter to me. He said I gave him a purpose, but I can tell you without a doubt, he gave my life purpose, as well. When he died, I was so confused… so lost. I couldn’t understand why I was still here, and he was gone. The first year without him, I felt as if I no longer had a purpose. Surviving day to day seemed to be the only purpose I could find… at first.

As that first year drew to a close, I began to realize that I was still here for a reason. It was going to be up to me to figure out that reason and find a new focus. That next year, I focused on my own healing – emotionally and spiritually. Don’t get me wrong, I think this is one of those “on-going, for-the-rest-of-your-life” kind of things. But what I did learn that year was our purpose is always evolving. We should not expect it to remain the same year to year or possibly even day to day.

Our purpose is “for a season” – a season of life… and then, it evolves into something else… something new and different. Sometimes that change may be so subtle, we can’t even pinpoint when it actually changed. Then, there are other times (like Bruce’s death), when the change is so sudden and severe, it leaves us reeling and struggling to breathe.

The following year, I felt drawn to start this blog. My purpose was (and is) to tell the true story of dealing with loss. I wanted to tell the whole story – the good and the bad, the celebrations and the struggles, the highs and the lows… I wanted to write about the realities of being the one left behind after a loss.

Why?

Partly because I can write what I can’t say. When Bruce passed away, I had a very quick “reality check.” I learned that we (as a society) have let Hollywood dictate our opinions about loss and grief – how is to be experienced and what we should say to one another for comfort. Then, (according to Hollywood) we are all supposed to forget it, move on and “live happily ever after.”

But that is a myth; it isn’t the reality. I guess I felt my purpose has been to point that out… to let others dealing with loss know they aren’t alone. When I started, I decided that even if it only helped one person, that would make it worthwhile in my book. While I know it has made some people uncomfortable, according to the messages I receive, it has made many more people feel validated in their own experiences… so this blog is a worthwhile purpose “for this season.”

However, while I write honestly about my feelings and experiences here, I know my grief is “old news” to those closest to me. Therefore in my everyday life, I don’t usually talk about this stuff anymore… If I really need to talk to someone, I will. But generally, I try to ensure it is a rare conversation.

Which brings up another “why?” Because, while I want to help others going through similar experiences, I don’t want my whole life to be focused on the frustrations of loss. I want to live a “normal” life. Plus, I have learned that what I focus on in life will expand… and I don’t need any more sadness or frustration in my life.

For example, I found myself struggling this week as this holiday weekend approached. For me, Easter is more than a religious celebration… It is a family celebration of life. However, I knew that I would be alone, and loneliness is a huge issue for me, as it is with most widows and widowers (even years later). Since I have a hard time expressing that, no one around me knew. So, as I found myself focusing on the “alone” piece, the “pity party” started in my head.

However, about mid-week I made a choice. I decided to change my focus from “alone” and redirect it in a positive way. I couldn’t change the “alone” factor, but I could make my time alone positive and productive. So… I completely “unplugged” this weekend. I started on Friday evening, and have spent the last 2 days enjoying a quiet, spiritual retreat weekend. It has been beautiful… and definitely much better than feeling sorry for myself.

This year, while I am still writing this blog (and will continue until it no longer serves a purpose), I can feel my day-to-day purpose shifting. My current focus seems to be around spiritual growth. For what? I have no idea, but I have definitely been drawn in that direction… And I am willing to follow this path and remain open to new ideas and experiences in my life.

In some ways, I feel I am following Bruce’s lead. His calm, steady, quiet faith was unshakable. I always loved to hear him tell how he knew I was “out there somewhere” and we would meet when it was time.

From the time we met until the night he died, he wore an anchor on a chain around his neck. A simple, silver anchor – the symbol of hope. He used to say that it symbolized his hope and his faith all those years as he waited for us to find each other. He would talk about being lonely for years, but how he never gave up hope or settled for something less than what he knew was right.

Now I wear that that chain with the anchor (and our wedding bands). It is my reminder that life always offers hope… and that is where I need to focus.

ringsandanchor

What about you? Do you ever struggle with why you are still here and your loved one is not? Would you be willing to share your story or your thoughts?

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

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Growing accustomed to the loneliness

There is a song from the musical, My Fair Lady** that goes like this:

I’ve grown accustomed to her face
She almost makes the day begin
I’ve grown accustomed to the tune
That she whistles night and noon
Her smiles, her frowns
Her ups, her downs
Are second nature to me now
Like breathing out, breathing in
I was serenely independent and content before we met
Surely I could always be that way again and yet
I’ve grown accustomed to her looks
Accustomed to her voice
Accustomed to her face**

Well, change the “She’s” and “Her’s” to “He’s” and “His” and that seems to be my dilemma. Bruce seems to always be in my thoughts… always a part of of me. In so many ways that is comforting, but it also creates a loneliness that I can’t seem to shake – no matter how hard I try to pretend it isn’t there.

I’ve spent the past 4 weeks with family. It has been craziness and chaos compared to my “normal” life… in other words, it has been wonderful! Don’t misunderstand, even with the commotion of a 5 year old boy (“Almost six, GG!”), I have had my moments of loneliness and grief. The difference is the fun and love-filled distractions that I have felt.

This week, though, it was time for them to go home… now it is quiet… overwhelmingly quiet… deafening quiet… a quiet that is completely filled with loneliness. It is a time of readjusting (again) to my “new normal.”
Only it’s not so new… why do I still feel so lonely. I’ve always been one to cherish my “alone time”… It’s where I regroup and gather my energy. But this is different… There is no choice in this and there is no end. It is what will always be.

Have you ever driven through Kansas? It doesn’t matter what road you are on, it all looks the same. It goes on and on… and on – no turns; no change in scenery. That is what this loneliness feels like… no matter how far down the road I look, it is the same… there appears to be no hope for anything different.

Today my eyes kept leaking… I was determined not to cry but the tears were just as determined to find their way down my cheeks. I just miss him.

I miss his smile and the way his eyes literally sparkled whenever he was happy. I miss just laying in his arms, looking into his eyes and talking. I miss watching him BBQ on the porch in his barefeet while dancing. I miss his kisses to start each morning and his hugs at the end of a rough day. I miss holding hands in the car and while we watched TV. I miss cooking together on Sunday nights and feeding each other as we worked together. I miss it all… all those little things that you grow accustomed to… All those things that are no more… All those things that will never be again.

Now the challenge is how to grow accustomed to this loneliness. It has been 2.5 years. Most people just assume I am “over it.” Only my closest friends and my kids can tell when it is a rough day. The rest of the world has done what it should – it has moved on… why can’t I?

Why do I still want him to be here when I walk through the door? Why (every morning) do I still look beside me in the bed to see if he is there? Does anyone ever really grow accustomed to this? Or do we just get really good at pretending? I remember my grandmother lived another 20 years after my grandfather died. Even then, she would have days where she would wear his sweater because she “needed to feel him hugging her.” I know that feeling…

This week is a struggle but unlike when Bruce first died, now I know that I will grow accustomed to this loneliness (this unending quiet) again. I know that I will smile again… I will laugh again. I will have good days and bad days… again. (Hopefully, more good ones than bad.) I have no expectations from other people at this point. That would be ridiculous… life moves on, and they all have other needs – other concerns. This is my journey… my story. I have to figure this one out.

Until then, my eyes may leak a little more than I want them to, and people may tell me I am too emotional… That’s okay. I am still moving forward… I am still making progress.

I am still growing accustomed to the loneliness…

Do you also know this feeling? Have you been where I am? Please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone or just sharing an emotion can make us feel validated and bring us closer.

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.

** “I’ve Grown Accustomed To Her Face” was written by Alan Jay Lerner; Frederick Loewe