Peace, Love and Grief… God’s Grace

One thing I learned a couple of years ago while going through chemo was “your world can get really small when you are stuck at home for months on end.” It’s true… The longer you are home without socialization, the easier it becomes to fold inward… To turn so far into yourself, you don’t even want to be out in the world. After months of surgery, chemo, and radiation, I found myself being quite content to stay at home (and forget the world). Thankfully, my daughter and grandson pushed me… They pushed me to go out, to call people, and when the time was right, to go back into the office and renew my connections with the outside world.

However, this wasn’t the first time I had done this to myself… After Bruce died, I didn’t have to isolate myself, but in a way, I chose to. In my grief, I unplugged from the world. I lost my desire to connect and interact with anyone. I found myself, day after day, watching the world from my window, and my only reaction was… blankness. There was a void that I couldn’t seem to tackle. But… as time moved on, and with a lot of love and patience from those who love me, I gradually pulled out of that blackness. I can’t say I ever realized what I had done to myself. I was grieving, and as far as I knew that was “normal.”

However, after the “cancer thing,” I was able to take that step back in observation and see quite clearly how easily I withdraw into my own world… Whether it is an attempt at self-protection, self-preservation or whatever, doesn’t matter. What matters is that I have come to learn how unhealthy it is. Which brings me to now…

Ever since we have been in “Covid-mode,” it has meant a huge limitation on social connections. Our company has been doing the “work-from-home” bit since March. (Thankfully!) Plus, because of our own limited immune systems, we have been staying away from the world for the most part. Sure, we go to the store and have visited places we feel are safe, but our “people interactions” have been greatly reduced.

But… This time, I knew what self-isolation could mean… I knew how quickly our world could shrink… And I knew just how small our world could get, if we didn’t make a conscious effort to stay connected. So, one of the first things I wanted to try was a book club… I love to read and that seemed like a great way to get together (virtually) and connect with other people. So, the next thing I knew I was in four different book clubs. (LOL!) That is a lot to keep up with, but honestly, I am loving it.

One of the Book Clubs is a spiritual one, (thanks to Bruce and his spiritual legacy I am still wrestling with). This week in the book we are reading, I came across this passage…

“God has infinite treasures to give us. Yet a little tangible devotion, which passes away in a moment, satisfies us. How blind we are, since in this way we tie God’s hands, and we stop the abundance of His grace! But when He finds a soul penetrated with living faith, He pours our grace on it in abundance.” ~ Marjorie J. Thompson, Soul Feast

Immediately, my mind began to question… Does this include me? Do I tie his hands being satisfied with a kindergarten understanding of who God is? Never expecting anything more or anything deeper than the “Sunday School God” of my childhood? Is there grace for me too? I feel like I have been on this quest for God’s grace for years… Yet, most of the time I feel like I am chasing the edge of a dream.

Through tears, I shared this with my sister this week, and her response was the most beautiful answer, and one I will hold onto for the rest of my days…

“Of course,” she said. “You have had some really tough times. Your first marriage was awful, but God’s grace came in the form of those four beautiful gems – your kids.”

“Yes,” I smiled, thinking about how much I love those four… I would go through all of that again, just for the sake of having them in life… For the opportunity to love them and be loved in return.

“And,” she continued, “God’s grace was overflowing when Bruce walked into your life. Think about it… Because of him, you experienced both love and healing… Bruce was God’s grace. He still is… Even now, even after he is gone… because of him, you have been on this spiritual journey…”

She was right… This journey has changed my life and my view of the world. I am a different person than I was. This time the isolation and social distancing hasn’t torn me down. This time I have leaned on Bruce’s legacy of spiritual growth and love… And I am staying connected…

And I know without a doubt… Bruce was God’s grace – His abundant grace – poured out on me … And I have been blessed!

I miss Bruce every day, and I am so thankful for all that he added to my life… All the things that I hang onto now… All the things that have enabled my healing and allowed me to keep putting one foot in front of the other. What about you? Have you ever struggled to find God’s grace in the midst of the loneliness of grief? Let us know… We would love to hear from you. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know that, as well. 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

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Peace, Love and Grief… The One Thing I Would Say

If you had the chance to say one thing to your lost loved one, what would you say?

I was thinking about that this morning… What would I say? Since I tend to “talk” to Bruce’s spirit on a continuous basis, to only pick one thing to say was a hard one for me. I know it might sound crazy, but when things are upsetting or when I feel elated, in the middle of the night or the middle of the day (it doesn’t really matter), whenever it is a situation where I would have turned to Bruce for support or reassurance or just plain friendship and love, he is still my go-to… or at least in my mind, he is.

So… What would I say?

I think I would start by telling him that I’m okay… I couldn’t have said that in the beginning, because I wasn’t. Back then, I couldn’t understand why any of this was happening. Why did he have to die? Why was I still here?

I can remember begging God to let me die too… I know! That sounds awful, doesn’t it? But I really didn’t want to be here without him. I kept looking down the road at all the years ahead, and I felt overwhelmed at the prospect of going it alone. Not only did I not want to take a single step forward without him by my side, I honestly, didn’t think I could.

However, God (evidently) answered that prayer with a “you’re still here (period).” It took years to accept that answer. It took even more years to want to be here.

But I’m okay now…

In the beginning of this journey, I couldn’t understand why I was still here. What purpose did I serve? Each day looked like the next – wake up (alone), work out (alone), go to work (thankfully with friends), come home (alone), eat dinner (alone), and go to bed (alone).

However … slowly… over time, I began to realize that it was up to me to find that purpose. I was the one that had to dig deep and figure out how I could still make a difference in this crazy world. In other words, I had to learn to reconnect with people. I had to “allow” myself to re-establish relationships and re-connect with friends without feeling like I was being disloyal to Bruce and his memory. In other words, I had to stop hiding in the dark hole of grief that had become my only friend.

It was hard, but I did it… And now, I’m okay.

When my daughter and grandson moved in a few years ago, life really took off. I became too busy most days to even think about being sad or feeling sorry for myself. Life was suddenly filled with laughter and adventures that I never thought I would experience again. Then, two more of my children moved nearby and life has gotten even brighter. My days are now filled with family dinners, family game nights, family movie nights, family vacations, family day trips and family adventures.

Even when I am overwhelmed or exhausted, I am grateful! All of it makes me smile… And all of it reminds me that I’m okay.

Yes, I still miss Bruce, and I would give my very soul to have him back. I miss seeing the love in his gentle eyes, as much as his mischievous grin. I miss the strength and security I found in his embrace, as much as the butterflies that appeared in my stomach each time he held my hand or stroked my cheek. I miss having my best friend beside me day in and day out. I miss the security of thinking we had “forever.” I miss all of that and so much more.

But, if I had the chance and could only tell him one thing, it would be, “I’m okay, babe… I’m okay.”

As I close up this week’s blog, I just want to say that I know he would want me to be okay… I believe he would want me to live my life and love every moment no matter how it comes. I, also, don’t think he minds that I still miss him and “talk” to him, (as long as I don’t get stuck there again). I am so thankful for all that he added to my life… All the things that make up his legacy, which I hang onto now… All the things that have enabled my healing and allowed me to “be okay.”

So… What about you? What one thing would you tell your loved one? Let us know… We would love to hear from you. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know that, as well. 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… A Sunday Gift

One of my journaling prompts this week was to recall a happy memory. Immediately, my mind went to a memory I haven’t thought about for a long time…

When I moved to Michigan to marry this man I loved, it was November. It was cold and snowing within a few days of our arrival. Being from the coast of SC, I didn’t have much experience with snow, so it seemed like such a beautiful miracle… at first. After months and months of gray skies and snowy days, I was done… I had had enough to last me quite a while.

Poor Bruce! He had grown up with this weather, and while he didn’t like it, it just was the way of winters in Michigan. I’ll never forget one of the first relatively warm Sundays in May. As the sun came up and we lay in the bed talking, he told me that he had a surprise for me. Always the eternal child at heart, I looked around excitedly and asked where it was.

“It’s not here,” he chuckled. “I have to take you there. We’ll go after we get dressed and eat breakfast.”

I have to tell you; I couldn’t get ready fast enough. I was so excited! So, a couple of (very long) hours later, we got into the car and headed out. We didn’t go far – maybe 5 miles at most. However, we ended up somewhere I had not seen before.

Bruce parked his truck in a small gravel parking lot on the edge of a small lake – Pickerel Lake. Then, we proceeded to spend the rest of the day walking, talking, and holding hands. There were paths that went around the lake and paths that went up and down the nearby hillside. The paths went in and out of the woods, through swamps and out into meadows.

Along the way, we rested on benches and logs or just sat on the ground. The sun was warm on our backs, but the temperature cooled immediately as soon as we stepped into the shade of the woods. It was a perfect day!

I know we talked a lot that day about everything under the sun, but the main thing I remember Bruce saying was that for him this was church… This was where he felt God. I remember not only nodding in agreement, but looking at this man with so much love as I realized what a precious gift he had just shared me.

You see, I tend to be a “busy” person who was raised to be a “good girl” and do things “the right way.” Before Bruce, that meant working five days a week and taking care of four children, while trying to maintain a house (and yard) that were way too big. It meant my weekdays didn’t end until sometime around midnight, while my days started at 3 AM. It meant spending Saturdays trying to take care of the house and yard, and Sundays were spent at the church. In other words, it meant trying to do “everything,” while feeling like I never got anything accomplished.

Thankfully, Bruce saw past all that… Thankfully, once we were married and living in Michigan, he showed me that it was okay to slow down… It’s funny… While I worked six days a week that first year, it still felt like a much more relaxing life than before. Why? Because he showed me that everything didn’t fall on me. We were a team, and I didn’t need to “be” anything but me… and he loved me.

I can’t begin to tell you how absolutely refreshing that realization was.
Before that day at the lake, I still wasn’t quite “there” yet. I was still trying to fill all the days and all the hours – 6 days at work and 1 day for church and chores.

But that day at the lake changed all that… That day, I realized that when God calls us to “keep a day of rest,” the key word is “rest” … A day to spend with family and nature and God – laughing, loving, talking, sharing, and enjoying the many blessings we are given.

That day has to be one of my favorite memories… It is one I fall back on whenever I catch myself falling back into that old trap of “do and go” and ridiculous business. Then, I take a breath. I remember that day… And I know that Bruce didn’t just give me the gift of a day at the lake. What he gave me was the gift of knowing it is okay to take the time to just “be.”

Thank you, Babe! What a precious gift!

In so many ways, I know Bruce left me a beautiful legacy – not just a spiritual one, but one that encourages me to look at the world around me and experience it with love and compassion… One that allows me to see God (however I define that) in all different ways… One that says “Be compassionate, even to yourself… Grieve as you need to grieve, and love life however it comes.”

I wanted to share this memory this week because I am so thankful for all I learned (and continue to learn) from the man who changed my world for the better. What about you? What kind of legacy did your loved one leave for you? We would love to hear from you. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or even 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… Why

Some weeks when I sit down to write, I wonder why I am still writing so many years later. In fact, I have had a couple of people ask that same question. Usually, my answer includes something about wanting to share my experience, as well as how therapeutic it is to just write it all down. There is a lot of emotional processing that happens each week as I write. Also, when I started this, I thought that even if it made a difference for just one other person, it was worth it. However, this week I realized it is something more…

Last Spring when everything shut down including the schools, my daughter made the decision to continue her son’s education rather than having him just hanging around, while we continued to work from home. Since we are both former teachers, we felt confident in this endeavor, and it has been a good experience for all of us. In fact, it has been so successful, she has decided to continue homeschooling him for now. But that isn’t my point… I’m getting to that…

The last couple of weeks, he has been reading the book, Wonder, by R.J. Palacio. It is a beautiful story about a 5th grade boy with Treacher Collins syndrome, who is going to school for the first time. (It is great book for teaching empathy and kindness.) Novel discussions have been my area during this process, so I was also reading the book…

At one point in the story, the boy’s faithful dog gets ill and must be put down. My grandson had been reading out on the porch, and when he came back in, it was obvious he was upset. “That was so sad,” he said. “The dog died. I hate that! I hate it when animals die.”

“It is sad,”” I responded. “Did it remind you of when Brutus died last year?”

“It did… That was awful… And when my mice died, and Duffy… and Frogmore.” This poor little boy… With two households and aging pets in both, this has been a rough year for him losing so many pets. It has been emotionally hard, and we have talked about the grief of losing a pet several times this year… And I had a feeling this was going to be another one of those times.

“You know what GG?” he asked. “When something you love dies, it is like being hit with a rock… really hard.”

“Yes, baby… Yes, it is,” I thought. I couldn’t have said it better! The conversation continued from there, until he had talked it out… Until he didn’t have any more to say on the topic… Until the next time when he is somehow reminded of or touched by death again. I know it won’t be the last time. I know another day will come when he will need to talk about it again – about the pain and trying to make sense of the “why.” Because that is what we do… We keep talking about it (or writing about it), until there is a sense of peace or understanding… Then, we do it again as many times as we need to.

“The drive to understand why things happen to us is so strong that the brain will continue to try making sense of an experience until it succeeds.” ~ Daniel Siegal and Tina Payne Bryson, The Whole Brain Child

I think that is why I really continue writing this blog each week. Just like my grandson, my day to day life is filled with all the normal things – laughter, frustration, work, play, family, and friends. Life is good, and I am happy. However, there are still some sad moments. Usually, I just push them down and keep moving forward… Until this time each week. This is the time when I allow myself to reflect on whatever has touched my heart and brought that grief back to the surface. Then, I sit and write about it… again. So, I guess, as much as anything else, I am writing for me… I guess, this is my way of trying to make sense of my own experience… And sharing that with someone else (who is also on this journey) helps.

I don’t know that there is ever an end to grief… I think it just is. It becomes a part of our lives like the scars from past hurts or a limp from an old injury. Sometimes it is maddening, and at other times it is oddly comforting. This grief journey is what it is, and I am just trying to make sense of something that (to me) makes no sense. I know this journey is different for each of us, but I appreciate the messages of support. I love that we can hold each other up, despite our differences and our own grief.

We know that some days are easier, and some days are harder. Sometimes we can smile at the memories and other days the tears won’t seem to stop. The many ways we experience grief are as diverse as we are, and we all move through it at our own pace and in our own way… We are just doing the best we can in a world that doesn’t always understand us. What about you? How has your grief journey changed through the months or years? Would you like to share your story or ask a question? Do you need a helping hand or even 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. *

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 Change

I dance with you in my mind.
You hold me next to you.
I feel your heartbeat and the strength of your arms.
As the music plays,
We move gently and gracefully as one.
Then, it ends with a kiss
As I wish for one more dance.

I laugh with you in my dreams.
I see your sweet smile
And you kind and gentle eyes.
I hear you start to chuckle.
Your smile grows.
Then you wink at me
As I wish for more laughter.

I make love to you in my heart.
I feel your strength and your gentleness.
Your compassion and love flow into me
With every touch and each sweet kiss.
We become one in that moment.
Then I lay in your arms
As you hold me close,
Gently kissing my lips, my eyes, and my fingertips.
As I wish for one more loving moment with you.

One more dance,
One more laugh,
One more chance to love you.
Then I realize these are always deep within me…
~ Linda, Sept 2013

I believe that looking for our loved ones after they are gone is normal. Every corner we turn, every call we answer, there is a part of us that expects to find them there… at least in the beginning. Yes, we know they are gone. But for many of us, the life they left behind just stopped… In the beginning it felt as if everything were just on pause as we waited for their return.

The year Bruce died, there was a song that was at the top of the country music charts, “I Drive Your Truck.” It was a song about loss and the absence of someone loved… And the attempt, after they are gone, to find them in the things they owned… like their truck.

Every time that song came on, the tears and emotions would come gushing… I could relate to many phrases in that song. There was one phrase that captured my anger and confusion… Two simple lines that let me know I wasn’t alone in my reaction to losing Bruce.

“I’ve cussed, I’ve prayed, I’ve said goodbye
Shook my fist and asked God why.” *

But the main thing about that song was the way it completely captured my feelings when I climbed into his truck… I kept that truck for quite a while after he died. The two of us (the truck and I) had a kind of love-hate relationship. On the one hand, every time I turned the corner and saw his truck in the driveway, there was a part of me that thrilled with the initial thought, “Bruce is home!” Then, just as suddenly, reality would hit me and I knew he wasn’t there at all… I just hadn’t brought myself to the point of being able to sell his truck yet. (That was the “hate” part.)

Then there was the reason I didn’t want to sell it yet… I loved driving it!

It took me a couple of weeks before I ventured out to the driveway, with his keys in my hand. I can remember climbing into the driver’s seat and just sitting there for a moment… Sitting in the seat where it fit him, feeling the place on the arm rest where his arm had left a dent from years of resting there… looking at all the things he left sitting there, waiting for him to return – his sunglasses, a pipe cleaner sculpture his daughter had made as a child, his favorite CDs, his cooler, a stack of red solo cups, and a bottle of water. Then, as soon as I turned the key, the music started…

“I leave that radio playing
Same old country station where you left it
Yeah, man I crank it up” *

The CD with the last songs he had listened to continued to play as I put on his sunglasses, put the truck into gear and left the driveway. I had no idea where I was going. I just knew that wherever it was, I wanted to get there in his truck. I don’t remember everywhere I went that day, but I know I drove all over our little town and out to the beach with the music blaring and the tears running down my cheeks.

“I drive your truck
I roll every window down and I burn up
Every back road in this town
I find a field, I tear it up
Till all the pain’s a cloud of dust
Yeah, sometimes I drive your truck.” *

After that, driving his truck became my weekend ritual… my way of trying to find him somewhere… anywhere… Somewhere in that truck and on those roads, I always felt like some part of him was there too, and in those moments, maybe I wasn’t so completely alone.

It took a long time, but I finally came to the decision that I couldn’t keep his truck forever. It didn’t make any sense… I needed to let it go. Lovingly, a sweet friend from work bought it. She didn’t need it; she already had a great car. But I know she bought it for me… As soon as we signed all the right papers, I remember she turned to me and said, “Whenever you need to sit in it, you tell me. I’ll drive it to work, just for you, and you can sit in it anytime… And she was good to her word… I only remember asking a time or two, but she was beyond gracious to me.

That was years ago, and I haven’t heard or thought about that song in years… Until yesterday.

As I was driving my grandson and I to a special, “just us” lunch, “I Drive Your Truck” came on the radio. But things change… and this time, there were no tears. In fact, I found myself smiling ear to ear, just remembering those many weekends spent driving his truck… How precious that time spent in his truck was to me… All those days spent finding some kind of peace in those moments… a healing that I didn’t even realize had begun… Yet a peace that was born out of simply driving his truck and feeling his presence within that small space that had been his.

* I Drive Your Truck – Recorded by Lee Brice; written by Jimmy Yeary, Connie Harrington and Jessi Alexander

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yCSMCgqlc-0

This grief journey is a crazy ride that I never signed up for. While we can hold each other up, we know it is different for everyone… Some days are easier and some days are harder. Sometimes we can smile at the memories and other days the tears won’t seem to stop. The many ways we experience grief are as diverse as we are, and we all move through it at our own pace and in our own way… We are just doing the best we can in a world that doesn’t always understand us.

What about you? How has your grief journey changed through the months or years? Would you like to share your story or ask a question? Do you need a helping hand or even 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. *

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… It’s Complicated

“But Meredith saw the grief in her sister’s bottle green eyes. It was like too much water in a glass, spilling over.” ~ Kristin Hannah, Winter Garden

Just sitting here this morning, waiting for this crazy storm to roll in, and the tears come… rolling down my cheek unchecked. All I can think about is Bruce… And how much I miss him… maybe I should say “still miss him.” But it doesn’t matter how I say it, it is what it is. Granted, it is different than it used to be, but it is still here. It is still a “thing” for me.

When it first started, it was like the beginning of the movie, The Wizard of Oz. The world had no color… It was all just black and white, and I was running from the storm… Running for my life away from this thing that threatened to take my sanity… Running from the grief that I did not want to be a part of my life.

But I couldn’t outrun it, and there was no where safe to land. It felt like I was left out in the storm, fighting to find a safe place to lay my head… Looking for some strong arms to hold me… Someone safe to tell me it would all be okay… But there were no strong arms, and it wasn’t okay.

At some point, grief completely overwhelmed me. It took over every thought and every action. With every breath, I thought about Bruce, his death, and what kind of future lay ahead with him… my future all alone. I think at this point, I embraced the grief… I believe I would even say, it consumed me. If I was breathing, I was crying. Day and night looked and felt the same – hopeless… pointless. There was nothing but darkness to my world, and I was lost.

“I know about losin’ people, Nina. I know how it sits inside you like battery acid, burnin’ through. And I know about runnin’ from it.” ~ Kristin Hannah, Winter Garden

Eventually, the light started to slowly creep back in… I can remember the first time I actually laughed. It was completely inappropriate – or so I thought. How could laughter, smiles or joy ever be a part of my world again? I remember feeling so guilty… As if my joy for one moment was some type of betrayal to Bruce and his memory. (Never mind, that joy was infused in every memory of him.) Somehow, I had adopted the idea that I no longer deserved a life that included such emotions. Grief was sadness… overwhelming sadness, and if that were how I felt, how could I ever feel joy? It was a murky path, and I didn’t know how to navigate it.

As time passed, I grew less intimidated by my own emotions. I not only learned to accept my different emotions, I learned how to “manage” them… I learned to let myself feel everything I felt… I started “allowing” myself to live my life again… To go out with friends, to laugh, to play, and to celebrate. As I learned to accept all of this and meet my grief head on, the color finally started to come back into my world. I learned to accept that there would be good days and bad… Days of tears and sadness and days of joy and laughter.

But here is where I also learned another thing… I learned to hide my grief. I began to understand how uncomfortable it made everyone around me. I recognized that my grief was impacting those I loved, and it wasn’t good. I realized that I had to put it away… For their sake, I needed to find a different way to live with this grief that was ever-present in my world.

At this point, I can say that my relationship with grief “is complicated.” It is complex at times and simple at other times. There is a comfort in my grief because it is how I feel… It is honest and raw. There is also a discomfort in my grief… A loss of control. There are times when I embrace it, and other times when I try to reject it. There is also a part of me that feels like I would be judged if anyone knew its true depths. In other words, the fact that it is ongoing is both a challenge and a comfort.

I don’t know why it is still there. I don’t know why I still find comfort in the moments spent crying for and missing this man. Perhaps, it is because my grief is the last connection I have to this man I love…

“Do you know how hard it is for me to hold my tears inside? I lost someone special and it is so very hard for me every day. I may look strong, I may have you fooled, but what you didn’t realize is that I fight each day to be this way. So please have patience with me. I will never be the same person I once was. Just know that I am trying to be the best I can be, for today…” ~ facebook.com/heavengarden.angel

This grief journey can be a hard one, and it is different for everyone… Some days are easier than others and some days are harder. The many ways we experience grief are as diverse as we are, and we all move through it at our own pace and in our own way… We are all different, and just doing the best we can in a world that can feel overwhelming at times. What about you? How has your grief journey changed through the months or years? Would you like to share your story or ask a question? Do you need a helping hand or even 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. *

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

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Peace, Love and Grief… How Long?

I was reading through an old journal this week and came across an entry that said, “I wonder if I will feel better by Christmas? I wonder how long until I feel better? … Until I am through grieving?” If the “now me” could talk to the “then me” I would say, “Who knows? … What is the length of a string?” I guess that is still my dilemma these days.

When Bruce died, I just assumed this grief thing would take a bit, but then I would be okay. I assumed I would go through a list of “things to do” to make the pain stop. You know, like read a few books, go to a support group, do some journal writing, and then… Well… There was no “then.” I thought that would be it. I’d feel better after all that. Life would pretty much go back to what it had been (only without Bruce).

When people used the term “new normal” and told me to get used to my “new normal,” I thought, “No, I’m not doing this for the rest of forever. This feels awful… I will get past all this.”

So… I read the books. I went to the support group. I wrote, and I wrote, and I wrote… I even worked with a life coach for a while… And all of these things helped. In fact, they helped a lot. But they weren’t a magic formula. So, while I learned function and live life again, the grief was still there… The pain was still there. The sadness and loneliness and missing were all still there.

I think at that point, I began to realize this really was my new normal.

I know everyone grieves differently, but I don’t know of anyone who has simply “gotten over it.” I think the sadness will always be there, even if the amount of sadness varies from time to time and person to person.

For me, I might go for extended periods of time where life is great, and I feel like I am going to be okay. Then, there are other times, where I feel like I am back at square one – filled with grief to the point of overflowing. But, most of the time, it is a mix of both… The feeling that I am okay and loving life. Yet, there is always that undercurrent of sadness that Bruce isn’t here to share in all the things that make me smile or to hold me when I cry.

I can’t say if this is normal or not, because it is all I have known. I can’t imagine a time when that undercurrent won’t be there. But then again, years ago, I couldn’t imagine ever smiling again or enjoying a single moment of my life without him… but… here I am…

So, I guess the point is… Life moves on, but our grief, well, it has a separate life all its own. Who know what is on the road ahead? … Who knows how long that piece of string really is? All I know is… I don’t know. But then again, if my life were “normal,” I would still have no idea what lay ahead. Therefore, I guess the best course is to just keep taking it one step at a time… one emotion at a time… one tear or smile at a time…

Death changes everything
For a while that is all I can think about…
Time changes nothing on its own.
This is a journey that will not end,
But I can lean how to direct my path.

If I do not pay attention to each individual step,
If I look too far ahead,
If I get tired and stop,
If I look backward too long,
I will become lost and scared.

I did not choose this journey.
I can’t even say that I like this journey.
But I would rather choose my path now
Then to try to find my way later
Because I gave up what little choice was mine
And became lost.

It is okay to stop and rest
Or cry when I am weary,
As long as I do not loose track of where I am.
It is okay to peer behind me to see where I was
As long as I remember to look forward as I move on.
It is even okay to look at what is ahead
As long as I am doing so as preparation,
While remaining focused on where I am.

Death has changed everything,
And I must learn how to adjust.
Time changes nothing on its own.
That is my job now.
This is a journey.
It is mine.
And I must own it to survive it.
~ Linda, 2013

This grief journey can be a hard one, and it is different for everyone… Some days are easier than others and some days are harder. The many ways we experience grief are as diverse as we are, and we all move through it at our own pace and in our own way… We are all different, and just doing the best we can in a world that can feel overwhelming at times. What about you? How has your grief journey changed through the months or years? Would you like to share your story or ask a question? Do you need a helping hand or even 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. *

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… Never Love Again

I know… Never say never. None of us knows what the future will hold or how we will respond to what lies there…

A few weeks ago, we finally got around to watching the newest “A Star is Born” movie. I never saw the first one, so I’m not making any comparisons. Instead, I will simply say, I loved this movie. However, it wasn’t until near the end that I found myself relating to the actions of the main character.

I’m not trying to ruin the movie for anyone, so if you haven’t seen it, stop here, go watch it, and then come back…

Okay… Now we should be good to continue. (LOL!)

Near the end of the movie, the main character’s partner dies. It is awful! I could relate to her emotions so completely that I found myself falling… Falling back into those early feelings of complete grief. There is a scene where she so incredibly filled with grief. And she is angry… Absolutely, completely, and utterly angry that he has died… That he has left her… And she is alone… I remember that feeling…

In this particular scene, she finally lets it out… It is raw and savage and animal-like… And I remember… She is so angry she rips his pictures and posters from the wall and smashes them all… and I remember… Then, she falls in a heap on the floor and cries until there is nothing left inside her… And I remember.

I remember all those feelings… I remember being filled with anger and trying to deny what I was feeling. I remember thinking I couldn’t give in to the anger, because that would be bad… I needed to be “good.” I needed to “grieve correctly” … “politely” … in a way that wouldn’t make anyone else feel bad. (Can I just say that is a load of crap!)

Now, at this stage of the journey, I can tell you that I needed to express that anger. I needed to center my attention on my own feelings for just a little while, and everyone else’s comfort needed to wait or move aside for just a small bit of time. For just a little while, I needed to focus on me… and my grief… and the anger I was trying to shove down further and further with each passing day.

I remember the day I reached the point of boiling over… Like the character in the movie, I completely lost it. I can remember screaming and wailing from somewhere deep inside… some place so far down, it didn’t even feel human. I remember smashing things, hitting things, cursing at God, and even yelling at Bruce. It was a level of emotion I have never felt before or since.

Finally, after there was no more strength left to express my rage, I remember falling on the floor in the middle of our home, and crying… I must have cried for hours, because by the time I had stopped, the house was dark… and still… and (finally) quiet.

I would like to say, that was all it took. I was fine after that. I picked myself up and moved on. But that isn’t what really happened. Instead, I can tell you that I did feel relief… Relief at letting go of all that emotion that had been building up for months. Relief at saying out loud all the angry, terrible things I had been too afraid to acknowledge. Relief at knowing that I could express all of that, and still know that neither God nor Bruce would hold it against me.

Instead, I honestly felt like they were there with me… consoling me. I felt like if the tables were turned, Bruce would have felt the same… And God, according to my faith, already knew what it is like to grieve… I felt like they both understood my pain, and only loved me even more for trying to find my way through it.

I will be honest… There were other nights when I cried and other moments when my anger spilled over, but all of those were minor when compared to that first one. Even now, while the anger is diminished, there are still times when I have to look for some space alone, so I can express the grief that is still there… The grief that can sometimes take me by surprise when it overwhelms my world.

This pain that is still a part of my world is why I am writing this today… It is why this movie hit so close to home, and why the lyrics of the last song resonate so deeply within me. I still love Bruce… And I don’t quite know what to do with that… even now… years later. So, instead of focusing on that, I just keep on keeping on, and trusting that his spirit is never far away… Trusting that our love is bigger than my grief… and bigger than the boundaries of this world…

“… And I want to pretend that it’s not true
Oh baby, that you’re gone
‘Cause my world keeps turning, and turning, and turning
And I’m not moving on…”

~ “Love Never Dies” written by Aaron Ratiere, Hillary Lee Lindsey, Natalie Hemby, Stefani Germanotta, A Star is Born

This grief journey can be a hard one, and it is different for everyone… I experienced a lot of anger in the beginning, but maybe you didn’t. The many ways we experience grief are as diverse as we are, and we all move through it at our own pace and in our own way… We are all different, and just doing the best we can in a world that can feel overwhelming at times. What about you? Was there an emotion that felt overwhelming in your grief? How did you handle it? Would you like to share your story or ask a question? Do you need a helping hand or even 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. *

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… Those Quiet Moments That Meant a Lot

There are so many things I remember about Bruce that make me smile… So many gestures that I still miss. In fact, each time I think about them, they still warm my heart. This week there has been one particular gesture – one thing he always did – that I have missed like crazy…

Let me start by saying we had a great marriage. I was a second marriage for both of us. (Bruce always laughed and said that the first time was just practice. LOL!) I like to believe that because we were older when we married, we were a little more laid back… more patient… less inclined to argue about things that just didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. Neither of us expected the other to change or be a certain way… We just loved and accepted each other “as is.” Now, that doesn’t mean, we never argued or disagreed. Of course, we did! That’s normal when you live someone… As they say, if you both agree ALL the time, there is no need for one of you.

This was a concept that I struggled with in the beginning, though…

My first marriage had been such a dysfunctional mess, and that was all I knew. In that first marriage, when we argued, it was likely to either end in an explosive, physical display of my ex-husband’s temper or he would completely shun me for weeks and sometimes months. (The worst part being his expectation that the children do the same when he was around or risk being on the receiving end of that same temper.)

So… When Bruce and I had our first few disagreements, I didn’t know how to respond. I knew he was a completely different man, but I still automatically panicked – worried that things might be the same with Bruce. It was a mindset that had formed over 20+ years, and it was hard to change. I can’t tell you what those early disagreements were about, because I really don’t remember. We were two people learning to live together, and there were bound to be a few bumps in that road.

Of our first disagreement, all I can remember is me sitting down on his recliner and crying – unsure how or if I should express my thoughts to him. The next thing I knew, Bruce was kneeling on the floor in front of me. He took my hands in his and leaned forward until his forehead touched mine. Then, we sat like that for quite a while until I could manage to stop crying. Then, in his ever-gentle voice, Bruce said, “We are going to disagree sometimes, and it’s okay… It doesn’t change our love for each other. It’s just a sign that we need to talk about something and figure out how we got here.”

The second time it happened, I still wasn’t secure enough to express myself. Instead, I went to our room to cry. After a few moments, Bruce followed me in. Once again, he took my hands in his and leaned his forehead to mine. As we stood there, forehead to forehead, I finally managed the courage to say, “This is hard… I didn’t know it would be this hard.” He didn’t move, but I could feel him smile… another gesture that reassured me that it was okay to say what I thought.

Through the years, we had our disagreements, and every time the conversation afterward always started with Bruce taking my hands and leaning in until we were forehead to forehead… a gesture that almost instantly calmed my heart. In fact, over time, he used that same gesture whenever I was upset or anxious about anything (not just when I was upset about us). It was like magic… It was as if by touching me in that way, all the calm reassurance in heart and mind was transferred to me…

And, I miss that…

These last few weeks, with everything happening around us in this crazy world, I have felt so anxious. Between political issues (that desperately need to be addressed) to other issues being made into political issues (which are in no way political at all), I have felt quite overwhelmed at times. There are days when I read the headlines and can’t believe we are where we are. Then, there are other days when I am too anxious to even look at the headlines…

What I wouldn’t give to have on of those moments again… For Bruce to take my hands in his and lean in until we are forehead to forehead… So many times, these past few weeks, to get through a “moment,” I have just closed my eyes and remembered… It is almost as if I can feel him take my hands… I can feel him touch his forehead to mine. Then, I stay completely still… taking in the moment… reliving the memories of those gestures… Until once again, my heart is calm. Then, I can open my eyes, take stock of my reality, and move forward…

And in my heart, I whisper, “Thank you, Babe! Thank you for teaching me that there is magic and power that comes from a loving touch in a still, quiet moment.”

This grief journey can be a hard one, and it is different for everyone… The many ways we experience it are as diverse as we are. We all move through it at our own pace and in our own way… We are all different, and just doing the best we can in a world that can feel overwhelming at times. What about you? Are there memories that help you get through the tough days? Would you like to share your story or ask a question? Do you need a helping hand or even 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. *

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… At the Mercy of Chance

“Life has a way of reminding you that you are at the mercy of chance.” ~ Kelly Rimmer, The Things We Cannot Say

I have to admit, before Bruce died, I didn’t think about death very much. I hadn’t really encountered it very often, in fact. The few pets we had growing up, (a stray cat my mother fed on the back porch, and a parakeet), aren’t really in my memory – only vague recollections from pictures and stories. I can’t even tell you when the pets came into or left our world… I was too young.

So, for me, I didn’t experience the death of someone (or something) I loved until I was in my late teens. I was 18 when my great-grandmother died and a sophomore in college when I lost my grandfather. A few months later, my first child was born stillborn. Then, my great aunt died in my 30’s and my two grandmothers died when I was in my 40’s. All these were sad events. I cried every time. Family is a big deal to me. I grew up surrounded by family, and all of these people were huge, active parts of my life… And I still miss them so very much.

Now… here is where it gets a little weird… While we “mourned” and buried our loved ones, I can’t say I grieved. I can remember hearing the phrases, “for the best,” “it was their time,” “they are in a better place,” “this is the natural order of things,” and the list goes on… Surely, you know what I mean. In other words, grieving for an extended amount of time just wasn’t done. At least, not in any way that I could see.

After the funeral, no one talked about their feelings anymore. We might share stories that made us laugh, but there was no mention of missing that person or being sad… There was no discussion of grief or how to handle it. It was just assumed that each person, on their own, was okay. It was never spoken, (although it felt understood), that any questioning of why or prolonged signs of grief would be seen as a sign of weak faith… almost blasphemous, in fact.

So, as is common in our culture, I never learned how to grieve… I’m not mad about it – just stating a fact. (And I don’t think I’m alone in this…) We live in a “be tough and move on” culture. Yet, as an extension of that, I never really gave death much thought. Death was something that happens when you get older… to other people… to other people’s lives… not mine… not yet anyway.

Until it did…

Bruce’s death hit me like a ten-ton train head on. In my mind, we were both still relatively young, and in good health. Both our parents were still alive, so our longevity seemed a given. When the events of that night occurred, I struggled to even comprehend what was happening. It seemed so impossible. I felt like I was in a nightmare, but I couldn’t make myself wake up.

All in all, I was totally unprepared for all the changes Bruce’s death brought to my world. I was completely in shock for many months – just going through the motions and watching life pass me by like an observer at a movie. And it has taken me years to feel like I am human again… like I want to be a part of my own life.

Part of what took me so long was I had to actually learn how to grieve. Then, I had to go back and grieve for all those people I had already lost. I know, it sounds strange, but it was some of the best advice I got. I grieved my grandmothers, my grandfather, my great aunt, and most especially, my little baby boy. Then, I was ready to grieve for my husband… for our love and our life together… It took a while, but I grieved for it all.

There have been a lot of changes since those early days after his death. Learning to grieve has been one, but just thinking about and acknowledging death has been another. I have gone from never thinking about death to thinking about death quite often to a realization that no moment is guaranteed other than the one you are currently experiencing. Honestly, this whole process has given me an appreciation for life and those I love as I never felt before. I know how precious each and every moment truly is, and I hope to never again take it for granted.

As part of this “thinking about death,” there are times when I also think about my own death – something I don’t think I ever really contemplated before. For example, I was reading Diana Gabaldon’s book, Drums of Autumn, and one of the main characters tells his wife, “I just want to die in my sleep… beside you.” That line left me feeling bittersweet. Bruce and I were together in bed the night he died. I was right beside him when he took his last breath. Perhaps it sounds strange, but that brings me comfort in an odd kind of way… I mean, I couldn’t save him, but I was with him… It makes me smile to know Bruce didn’t die alone.

Then, I think about my own death… I have no idea what the future will hold, but I’m not scared. There are so many things that go through my head… I know some of it probably sounds morbid, but some of it is realistic, as well. For example, I know I won’t be dying in Bruce’s arms. Hopefully, though, I won’t be alone either. (See, that is the morbid part, I think.) But… There is a thing that makes me smile… When my time comes, (which, for the record, I am betting is a long way off), I know Bruce will be there waiting for me… ready to take my hand and hold me close once again… And that brings me comfort.

For now, I am happy to live my life and experience all the love still here. However, I also look forward to a time when he and I are together again… When I can look into his eyes and hear him say, “I love you” … one more time.

This grief journey is a hard one, and it is different for everyone… The many ways we experience it are as diverse as we are. We all move through it at our own pace and in our own way… We are all different, and just doing the best we can in a world that can feel overwhelming at times. What about you? How have you learned to grieve? Is it better some days than others? Would you like to share your story or ask a question? Do you need a helping hand or even 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. *

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.