Tag: tears

Peace, Love and Grief… Facing another anniversary and I still remember…

I thought we had forever…
I never knew we were counting down
from the day we met.
~ Linda, Sept. 26, 2013

As I approach this weekend, I find myself in tears. I have fought it all week, but now it is time to let myself feel what I feel.

On Tuesday, January 12, it will be 3 years… Three years since my worse nightmare came true…

January 11, 2013 was a Friday. It will be forever ingrained in my mind. I got home late, and Bruce was even later. As a truck driver, he often worked 12 – 14 hour days. However, given his occupation, we were both thankful that he was a “local” driver and home every night.

That Friday he had left for work around 5 AM and returned home around 8 PM. I had already eaten, (Chicken Lo Mein, which I still do not eat to this day), but I sat with him as he ate the dinner he had picked up on his way home. We talked about the upcoming weekend and what we wanted to do… go to the beach, use the kayaks, or go out on the boat… It really didn’t matter as long as we were together and near the water.

I remember Bruce laughing and saying, “Whatever we do is fine with me… We could just see where the day takes us.”

That night we did our usual bedtime routine, kissed goodnight and snuggled up to sleep in each other’s arms. A few short hours later, it happened… I woke up around 1 AM to a strange noise. Bruce sounded like he was snoring but more than that… like he was having trouble breathing. I remember shaking him and shouting, “Wake up, Babe. You’re dreaming. Wake up.”

But he didn’t wake up. Instead, he seized up and then stopped breathing.

“No!” I thought. “This can’t be. This must be a dream. This can’t really be happening.” It was all so surreal.

I remember calling 911. I remember talking to the 911 operator, while trying to get dressed, unlock the door for the EMS crew, struggling to put something solid under Bruce so I could perform CPR, counting while doing compressions and the EMS team arriving. I remember watching as they continued the CPR, used the “paddles,” injected him with an epi-pen directly into his heart. I remember the line on the monitor staying flat no matter what they tried. I remember standing to the side watching all of that… and I remember thinking repeatedly, “This can’t be real. This isn’t happening. I need to wake up. I need to make this dream stop.”

But I wasn’t dreaming. Instead, it was all just the beginning of an absolute nightmare.

I remember a pastor coming in to “console” me and saying, “Just think of it as someone hit the ‘delete’ button on Bruce.” I remember that same pastor and the police officer, who had driven me to the hospital, talking about football over my head as I cried. There I was crying and lost because my husband had just died in my arms, and they were talking about a football game. I remember wanting them to leave but not knowing how to tell them.

I remember the nurse handing me Bruce’s wedding band “for safe keeping.” I remember being allowed some time to “say good-by.” I remember stroking his hair and his cheeks. I remember thinking he was going to open his eyes at any minute and say, “Gotcha.” But he didn’t. Instead, I remember squeezing his toes as I left the room, something I had always done when I walked past his lounger at home… and I remember kissing his cheek and saying, “I love you, babe. I will always love you… and until I see you again – Good-by.”

I remember the ride home in the same police car and thinking, “I’m alone… From now on, I will always be alone.” I wasn’t crying at that point… I was in such shock. I remember making phone calls (at 3:30 in the morning). I remember Bruce’s Mom crying out in pain and disbelief when I told her. Calls like that one are permanently fixed in my memory, while I do not even remember making others. However, I do remember the shock in each voice as I relayed the news that Bruce… My Bruce was dead. He was gone.

I couldn’t even begin to imagine at that point what that really meant.

I remember cleaning the house because everyone would be coming. I remember trying to clean the bed where he had died. I remember making lists, although I don’t remember what they were. Most of all, I remember thinking, “This can’t be real. This space… this house is ours. You can’t be gone! Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me here alone!”

But it was real… he was gone… I was alone.

I have spent 3 years (on Tuesday) coming to terms with that reality. Some days are better than others. I am working on my perspective and attitude. I know that what I choose to see in life is what I will see. However, I won’t lie. It is hard. I make myself get up each morning and say “thank you” for a new day. However, I also will be thankful when the time comes, and I am with Bruce again. (Not trying to upset anyone or insinuate anything – just an honest widow’s statement.)

So what will I do on Tuesday? Well, this will be my first year facing this anniversary by myself. I won’t say alone because there are a lot of people also grieving for Bruce. There are also a lot of people who have offered their support if I need them, and for that I am endlessly thankful.

My plan for Tuesday is similar to last year, and I am sure I will share it next week. But for today… tonight… and probably the next few days, I will be reliving our last few days together (especially that night) over and over…

and still wishing this was just a very bad dream…

and still praying I will wake up with Bruce next to me… holding me…

the way I remember.

Each morning I awaken
And I am reminded all over
That you are gone.
I call out to you…
Sometimes in only a whisper.
And I still feel your soul respond to mine…
~ Linda, March 22, 2015

For anyone dealing with loss, the anniversary of that loss is something we must endure year after year. I don’t know if it ever gets easier. So far, for me it is still just as painful… the tears and grief, just as strong.

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

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

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

* 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… I still cry, but somehow it’s not the same

Tears

People ask me if I still cry…
I wake up in the morning with only your picture next to me…
And I cry.

As I get dressed, I think of how you would come in each morning to tell me it was time for you to go as you kissed me…
And I cry.

At work, people make comments about my grief and pain; I smile at them and try to remember that they have no idea what they are saying…
And I cry.

I come home to an empty house and spend the evening alone…
And I cry.

I put on your t-shirt and crawl into our big bed… alone… no one to hold me; no one to kiss me…
And I cry.

So when people ask me if I still cry, I say –
Not all the time…
but sometimes… I still cry

~ Linda, January 18, 2014

Some people will ask… others just assume one way or the other. Either way is okay, but trust me… 2.5 years later – I still cry. Up until a few weeks ago, it was everyday; a few times a day. Unless you have been here and walked this path, I’m not sure if this will make any sense. However, if you are on this path, maybe this will sound familiar.

When Bruce first died, people told me that time would help heal my grief… I’ve learned that is a little bit misleading. Here’s what I mean…

The term “heal” can be misleading because it can mean something different to each person. I thought it meant, I wouldn’t be sad or hurt anymore. I thought it meant that after “some” time, I would go back to being “me” again. But that isn’t how grief has worked out at all.

Experiences change you… Grief changes you… I soon realized that I would NEVER be the “me” I had been before Bruce died.

In the beginning, the pain was so deep and the shock so intense, I felt as if I couldn’t even breathe. Trying to make sense of it all was impossible. I couldn’t understand “why” – Why Bruce? Why us? Why now? Why him and not me? Why was I still here… all alone? None of it made sense.

To say I felt like I was drowning in my own grief would not be an understatement.

As the shock wore off, reality set in and the pain changed as well. I’m not really sure how to describe it… It was still there… it was still deep. Like a wound that never quite heals; always needing care and a fresh bandage.

After a while, it just becomes a part of your life… a part of who you are. That was my grief – It became a part of my everyday life. I thought I was handling it better publicly, although privately not much changed. The pain and sadness were still there.

I started this blog to try to explain some of these emotions… The idea of the emotional chaos that comes with grief. The concept of trying (with every fiber in your being) to just be normal… but knowing you will never be “normal” again.

I wanted people understand that a loss this intense changes you in ways that shake you to the core… That is what is normal… That is what I have been trying to navigate each day – one moment at a time.

In these 2.5 years, I have found myself questioning everything about my life… my faith, my God, other people… even my very existence. Before I trusted everyone… I believed in God’s goodness and always saw the best in other people. But as time passed, the trust that used to be second nature to me seemed to be replaced by feelings of distrust and abandonment.

But, thankfully, that’s not the end of the story…

A few weeks ago, while on a retreat, I had a shift… a shift in my grief and a huge shift in attitude. In those quiet, peace-filled days, I came to realize that Bruce’s death was not some divine punishment. God does not hate me… God and Bruce have not abandoned me. As much as I might not like it, the simple truth is – Bruce had fulfilled his purpose.

He left a beautiful legacy behind by blessing so many lives, especially mine… And that is the other half of the story – my life isn’t over. I need to pick up the baton and keep running… There is a reason Bruce came into my life, and there is a reason I am still here.

I know I will still have sad days… days where I miss Bruce and will still cry. (I had a couple this week.) But it was different this time… I was sad, and I cried, but the feelings of distrust and abandonment were not there… I knew I wasn’t alone. I was just sad – plain and simple.

As I write this, I don’t know what the future will hold. I only know I have to be willing and open to whatever it is… And I find that I am actually excited about whatever is next.

Because this is our community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

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

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

* 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.