Tag: loss

Peace, Love and Grief… Trying to Be That Person

Lately I have gotten hooked on an old series on Netflix, and while watching it this week, one of the characters’ fiancé dies. Admittedly, it was hard to watch, and what followed was equally hard to watch. Why? Because it was one of the most realistic depictions of loss and grief, I have ever seen Hollywood do.

In the series, she is absolutely devastated. At first, she can’t leave his side. She knows he is dead, but there was a need to stay there… There is a need to still touch him. The thought of letting go and walking away… To leave him there – alone… that is more than she can handle.

I get that…

In the next scene, she is laying on her bathroom floor. She lays there for what seems to be days. Her friends come and go. They all lay on the floor beside her. Some try to talk her out of feeling the way she does. Some tell her that her fiancé wouldn’t want her to do “this.” Some just lay beside her, letting her grieve – simply a support in the storm. And some are honestly perplexed about what to do or say.

One of her friends even tells her exactly that… That she wishes she knew what to do or say to make it better, because she cares… She loves her friend, and it is hard to watch her hurting. However, she doesn’t know how or what will make it better. So, for a while, they just lay there in silence.

Then, the girl who is grieving says, “I know everyone cares. I know everyone wants me to be okay. They need me to put it behind me and be okay. But I don’t know how to do that… I want to do it for everyone else, but I don’t know how to be that person.”

I get that… Boy, do I get that!

Finally, in one of the last scenes that I watched; she is in her kitchen cooking. It is obvious she has been cooking a lot. She looks around the room as if she has just realized where she is and what she has been doing. Then, in a dazed, confused voice she says, “I’ve cooked enough.” Yet, before the words are even out of her mouth, she opens the cookbook and starts another recipe.

That lost feeling… That feeling that you need to do something… anything other than stare at the wall… I get that too!

All those emotions hit so close to my heart…

I remember when Bruce died. I remember staying with him for hours while people came and went – always checking to if I was okay… If I was “ready” for the Medical Examiner to “take the body.” I hated that phrase. It sounded so cold. This wasn’t “a body.” It was Bruce! Didn’t they understand that just a few short hours before he was kissing me goodnight, and I was snuggled in his arms? No… I wasn’t “ready” to leave him. How can anyone be “ready”?

I remember coming home and feeling lost… totally bewildered about what to do next. Over the next few days, family and friends came and went. Some helped manage the house and feed all the guests. Others guided me through the process of funeral homes and paperwork. And still others just sat with me… I needed them all. I had no idea how to even breathe at that point, much less how to handle the “business” of death.

Over the next few weeks, I struggled with the idea that life just kept going. I needed the world to stop… just for a little while… just until I could catch my breath. But the world didn’t stop… And I didn’t know how to jump back in and keep going.

So, I did the only thing I knew to do… I went back to work… And I worked a lot. At first, I went into the office. However, facing people, talking to people, hearing their laughter in the hallway… It was all more than I could handle. So, I closed the world out for a while… literally. I started either closing the door to my office or I simply worked from home as much as possible. Then, I went about the work of staying very busy… mainly because I was too scared of what might happen if I dared to slow down or stop.

Those days were hard. Shoot, even now when I think about them, I realize how raw those emotions still are. I know it has been a long time since that night he died. I know I should “be over it.” But the truth is, it still hurts – some days less than others… But it’s always there – just under the surface.

So, if I am honest, I too would say, “I know everyone cares. I know everyone wants me to be okay. They need me to put it behind me and be okay. But I don’t know how to do that… I want to do it for everyone else… but I don’t know how to be that person.”

What about you? Do you know what I mean? Does any of that sound familiar? How about yourself? How did you initially handle the shock of your loss? Have you figured out how to be that person? Let us know… We would love to hear your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. * Who knows… your story may the answer for someone else.

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

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Peace, Love and Grief… Grace

Grace… There are several definitions, but kind of grace I am referring to is defined as “courteous goodwill” or “free and unmerited favor or blessing.” In other words, being “caring” or “being kind to” someone (period)… Not because it is earned or deserved, but just because.

I know the love between Bruce and me felt like grace. It was unconditional and ongoing no matter what was happening in our lives. We both had our good days and our bad, and we loved each other through all of it. So, when I say we loved each other, it was with the grace of unconditional love.

Of course, there were times when we were frustrated or angry with each other. However, when nighttime came, we put all of it aside, because when all was said and done, our love was greater than our anger. Every night, we kissed, went to bed together… And slept in each other’s arms. There was a grace between us that wouldn’t allow for anything less.

When Bruce died, I felt the loss of that daily grace down to the depths of my soul. I think in many ways that may have been (and still is) the hardest part to heal. You see, I had never experienced anything like that before Bruce… And I’m not sure I ever will again.

A couple of months before I met Bruce, I remember my mother saying, “You need someone to love you like God does – but with skin on.” … And that was Bruce… that was our love… A love filled with grace. So, when it was gone, I was devastated… Because it also seemed like all grace was gone.

I know in the beginning, I was so hurt and angry, I didn’t have any grace for anyone. People tried (in the only ways they knew) to reach out or to say the “right thing.” I think I did a lot of smiling on the outside while seething on the inside. I KNOW I spent way too much time dwelling on why this or that response was wrong or hurtful. And yes, they were… However, the hearts and motivation behind those responses weren’t. People meant well… They wanted to help. However, at the time, I couldn’t find the grace to see that.

It took me years to be able to smile with grace and see the love behind the statements that can hurt on the surface. Sure, there are times even now, when I have to smile and walk away, because what is said can still hurt. The difference is I’m not angry anymore.

Instead, I have come to feel a grace that is greater than me… And this grace allows me to see the love and compassion that motivated the response or advice. It is such a different response from me than in the past. I am no longer left drained emotionally or angry about those things which are actually born out of good intentions. In other words, the grace that started with Bruce and me is still inside me somewhere… It just took me a while to find it again.

But… This story doesn’t end there… You see, there is another person in need of that grace. Another person who, for years now, has struggled with showing that same grace to herself – me.

While I have no regrets about our time together, I still struggle with guilt about the night Bruce died… The night he needed me, and in my own eyes, I failed him. Yes, rationally I understand there was nothing I could do to save him that night. However, in my heart, I struggle to offer myself the grace of accepting that reality.

When Bruce and I were married, he showed me how to relax… how to enjoy life. We had our routine at night, where once dinner was over and things were cleaned up, that was the signal that work for the day was done… It was over. The next hour or so was ours. Some nights we sat and talked; others we watched TV or went for a walk. It didn’t matter… Every night we gave each other the grace to simply “be done.”

The weekends were similar. One day was spent doing those things we had to do, and the other was spent together… not working… but giving each other the grace to rest for a day and just love each other.

That is a grace I am still struggling to embrace again…

I guess since Bruce died, (perhaps to avoid the pain), I continually fill the time being busy. I seem to have “a gift” for finding things that need to be done. It has finally reached a point, lately, where I realized I won’t even watch TV without doing some household chore at the same time. In fact, allowing myself any “leisure time” has become pretty much non-existent.

Why? Why can’t I allow myself the grace to rest?

Honestly, I think there are probably many reasons. First, I think I’m scared to allow myself the grace to slow down and feel. I know how hard it can be to find the balance between feeling what I feel and falling into a deep, depressive grief wave. Another reason is likely that I’m not sure I deserve any time to rest, (which probably goes into a whole other can of guilt worms). However, the bottom line is I haven’t given myself the grace to say, “Yes. You can rest. It’s okay.”

This is the spot where I find myself lately. The spot where I offer myself the same grace that I offer others. The spot where I offer myself the same grace Bruce and I offered each other… The grace to “be done” for the day… The grace to rest and the grace to enjoy life… once again.

What about you? Do you know what I mean? Have you ever struggled to offer grace to others? How about yourself? Have you ever found yourself staying busy to avoid the pain? Or is there something else you do? Let us know… We would love to hear your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know 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… Being Patient

“That’s what people never tell you, about the real fundamental, life-giving stuff you lose when someone you love leaves. You lose the part of you that only they knew. You lose some of your story. It simply dies.” ~ John Pavolitz

Bruce… God I miss him. While I have a few close friends (some related to me, some not), there is a part of me that only he knew. For whatever reason, he was the one I trusted with certain parts of my soul. He was the one who knew the secrets I was too shy or too scared to share with anyone else… And he loved me anyway. In many ways, he knew me better than I know myself… (Although, his legacy and this journey since he died have continually opened a lot of those doors for me.)

I think that is why it has been such a struggle since he died… Because that loss of self is so real and so true. I didn’t just lose Bruce that night. When I look at all the spaces he filled in my world, I come to realize that I also lost a thousand other things when he died. And one of the hardest is the fact that I lost a part of my own story that night.

It felt as if, suddenly, the book was finished. It was done. There was no ending – only a beautiful beginning and a wonderful storyline that for some reason just stopped. It was over, and I never found the resolution that should have come with the fairy tale I was living. We had lived “happily,” but I had lost my “happily ever after.” Instead, the story was over, which included a big part of my story, as well.

I guess that’s a part of the grieving process… Trying to find my own story again. It’s hard. I spent years feeling hopeless and lost. Then, I would tentatively take a step or two forward, but honestly, there is a guilt that comes with that. I can’t explain it, but for so long, I felt guilty for living my life while knowing that Bruce’s life was over.

As the years have passed, I have learned to move forward. I have learned my triggers that will spiral me deep down into grief, and I have learned how to push myself forward even when I don’t feel like it… But it’s still not easy. It’s a process.

“Widowhood is the long learning to do without the presence of the loved one. It is a task demanding the utmost patience, and a willingness to look, again and again, at those paths and places where the loved one walked, sat, lived, and slept, and does so no more.” ~ Martha Hickman, Healing After Loss

I imagine it might seem a bit frustrating to those around me. It’s probably hard to understand…

After all, I’m not who I was… I can’t be. For their sakes, I wish I could… That would probably be easier. But that story ended over seven years ago, and no matter how hard I try or how much I wish, I can’t go back. I know I’m different now. But aren’t we all? Don’t we all change and grow throughout our lives? Isn’t that what we are supposed to do? Granted, for some of us it might be a more sudden or extreme change, but none of us are the same person we were seven years ago.

Even now, there are times when I still feel so alone on this journey… so out of sync with everyone else around me… But that’s okay… I’m okay. Ultimately, life is a process… an on-going story. Yes, a chapter of my story ended and with it a big part of my story is gone… but not the whole story. No… My story is still being written… I just need to be patient.

I am so thankful for all the people who have supported me through the years… All those who have loved me and accepted that this is now a part of who I am. They have been a big part of my healing and their love has allowed me to keep putting one foot in front of the other. What about you? Have you ever struggled to find support in the midst of your 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

* 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… How?

How do you offer support to someone you love or care about when they are grieving? How do you show that you care about their loss and their pain? How? … Honestly, I don’t really know. I’m pretty good at recognizing what not to do. But knowing what to do is another story. I think, perhaps, it is a moment by moment answer… I also think it depends on the person… And your relationship. I don’t think there is any, one, perfect answer.

It has been years since Bruce passed away. And in that time, so many people have walked beside me in an effort to offer support… Just the fact that they have tried means the world to me. I know in the beginning I was too hurt… the pain was too raw… to recognize their efforts for what they were – attempts to show me love… attempts to ease the pain. There were times when I got angry at things that were said, and I wrote about it…

If I’m honest, there were some things that should never have been said. There are some things that seemed to invalidate my experience and my feelings. But… at the core of it, I know the person saying it meant well… I don’t believe the intention was anything but good. I just couldn’t see that at the time. I couldn’t see past my own pain…

I had no idea how hard it was for them to see me lost in grief and know that there was really nothing anyone could do to make it better.

So, what do you do for someone when they are grieving?

It probably sounds weird. Through the years, I have watched as friends around me lost family members and expressed their grief and emotions. And while I know what not to say, I still struggle with what I should say… or do. At this point, one would think I should know. Shoot, I’ve been there… I’m still there… But the problem is everyone is different. Everyone responds to grief in their own way and needs different kinds of support.

Then, you throw in the relationship part… How close are you to the person? Are you family? Are you friends? Are you close or only acquaintances? Do you share a faith? All of that plays a part in what you can offer… Or does it?

When Bruce died, there were people whose relationship with me had distanced over time, (one was even a falling out), but these people showed up in my life with so much ferocity and love. They stood beside me through some of the hardest moments. They held me hand and pulled me close as I cried. They listened to me until the wee hours of the night and never made me feel like a nuisance.

There were other people whom I craved support from who were silent… It was quite surprising. At the time, rather than counting my blessings of those around me, I chose to be hurt by those who weren’t. I say that because it was my choice… I didn’t have to be hurt. Over the years, I have come to learn that for some of these people, they were going through their own personal “hell” and just had nothing left to give. (I get that!) Others just didn’t know how to respond. (I get that too… now.)

After all, we live in a culture that has a low tolerance for sadness or negative emotions. For some reason, we have come to a place where we think life should just be about happiness and sunshine. So, when it isn’t, what do we do? Some of us shove those feelings down deep so no one else can see them. Others of us try to talk about it in a safe space, and others might “overshare.” No matter what we do, though, grief comes at a cost… We are changed… We will never again be the people we were. And if you are on the other side of the grief looking in, how do you respond to that, as well?

As I have watched on Face Book the last few months, several friends have lost family members to either Covid, a myriad of other illnesses, or simply “old age.” Their pain is hard to watch, and many of them I only have contact with through Face Book. So, what do I do? What is the right way to show support and show that you care?

I have found a few things… They are kind of general, but I think these will be my guidelines going forward.

1. Don’t be afraid to visit.
I know I loved it when people dropped by. I loved the surprised of a caring hug in the middle of the day. I loved the conversation that usual centered around memories of Bruce. I loved that someone cared enough to drive all the way out to my place just to spend a few minutes with me. That was amazing in my book!

2. Understand that people grieve differently.
This can be hard, but I think if we can just respect everyone’s right to be who they are, and grieve in a way that allows them to not feel judged for what they feel and how they express it, that would be huge.

3. Accept that you can’t “fix” their feelings.
I knew no one could make it better. I think it’s normal to want to try to take the pain away, but you can’t. You have to “allow” them to have their feelings and the pain that goes with it. Honestly, I didn’t want anyone to take it away. I knew I had to figure it out… Grief creates its own journey, and there are no shortcuts.

4. Acknowledge the loss.
Sometimes the simplest, “I’m sorry” can mean the world. There were (and still are) so many times when someone says how sorry they are that Bruce is gone. “Me too,” is my usual response, but it means the world to me that they care too.

5. Listen.
This sounds easier than it is. We all like to give our opinions or advice. But, honestly, the grieving person just needs someone to listen… That’s it… Just listen.

6. Lessen the load.
For some this might mean bringing meals over or running errands for the person. In my case, this meant going with me when I had to take care of “widow” business. I had friends who took off from work and drove an hour to my house (several times) so that I wouldn’t have to go to the courthouse alone to file the necessary paperwork. This kind of support meant the world to me… Honestly, some of those papers probably wouldn’t have ever been filed if they hadn’t been there to hold my hand.

So, have I figured it all out? No! But… I am trying. If anything good can come from my own grief, maybe this is it… To just share what I have experienced so that we can all give each other the support we need when we need it…

I still grieve Bruce every day. Every time someone I know loses someone they love, my heart breaks for them, knowing how that pain can feel. I am so thankful for all the people who have supported me through the years… All those who have loved me and accepted that this is now a part of who I am. They have been a big part of my healing and their love has allowed me to keep putting one foot in front of the other. What about you? Have you ever struggled to find support in the midst of your 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

* 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… 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

* 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 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… 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

* 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… 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.