Tag: loss

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.

Peace, Love and Grief… Strong… Balanced

“Being strong isn’t necessarily being balanced.” ~ unknown

Whoa… Isn’t that the truth?! Since Bruce died, that has been my struggle… Trying to be strong and balanced. But so much of the time, I’m not sure how to do both. I know I have gotten stronger as time has passed, but I wouldn’t say I’m always balanced… Mainly because I know there are times when my answer to the challenge at hand might be stoic reserve, while other times my answer is tears. Often times, people see the quiet response as strength, and the tears as unbalanced, especially after so many years. Then again, to be vulnerable… to be honest about your emotions, doesn’t that require some strength too? So, which is it? Do I let the world be my compass, or do I go with my gut?

Last week I received some news that left me in tears… absolutely broke my heart. I have cried for days. I don’t understand how people can be so mean (for lack of any other word). All week, as I recall their words, I have cried – sometimes out loud and sometimes just in my heart… I haven’t responded to them or in front of them. What is there to say when someone else has made their point clear? Whether you agree or not, doesn’t really matter. They have said what they want to say. My choice is to argue or acceptance. I have chosen acceptance… Mostly because I learned that from Bruce.

While he would never back down from a conversation – an honest dialogue between two respectful people – people who truly listened to each other and cared. On the other hand, he was never one to waste his breath arguing with someone who wasn’t going to listen… Someone who had made up their mind and already shut the door on any conversation. Once again, his legacy… his person… his absolute being has given me strength and reminds me that my choice comes in my own reaction, and that is where I can find my strength.

Bruce was a quiet man. He always thought things through before he spoke. He made sure that whatever he had to say would make a difference. If not, why bother? Why waste your breath? It just isn’t worth the energy in those situations. When he was here, I didn’t always get it. I mean, I appreciated that he was so rational. But sometimes, I would think, “Just get it out,” “Say what you think,” “Go ahead… Put it out there.” While I hate an argument, sometimes waiting through the silence as he gathered his thoughts seemed worse… But it wasn’t… There was a lot of wisdom born in those moments.

I knew that was just his way… He was always comfortable with his own thoughts. If you really wanted a conversation, he welcomed it. If not, that was not on him, it was on you. I guess, now (seven + years later) I find myself feeling the same.

So back to the strength and balance…

Yes, there are still times when I feel myself being overwhelmed by waves of grief. And while I understand there are some people who are uncomfortable with that, it’s just not my problem… not really. In the years since Bruce’s death, I have gotten better at hiding those emotions, even from the people who are closest to me. I know I am much stronger than I used to be. I can manage those emotions. I can push them down deep inside and keep moving. Does that necessarily mean I am doing better? Am I stronger? Balanced? Honestly, what in the world does that even mean?

To tell you the truth, I have no answer. I do push my emotions down deep much of the time. I can move through life and act like all is well… That my heart was never broken… That my soul is whole. But… deep inside, I know better. And sometimes in the dark of night, I cry.

This week, this thing that happened left me feeling pushed aside… ignored… unwanted. Maybe it’s just me, but I really don’t think so. It’s just a hard situation. It hurts. I hate it. I want to fight it, I want to scream, but that wouldn’t change anything. Instead, I have taken the time to gather my own thoughts. I know that everyone makes their own choices, including me. I’m not angry at anyone… They will do what they do… And I will do what I do… And I will follow Bruce’s lead… Since I know I can’t change it, I just have to let it go. It is what it is.

For the rest of this journey without Bruce, I will have to face situations that are hard… Situations that break my heart. I can only do so much. I am only so strong. But when the day is done, I want to look in the mirror and say, “I am as strong as I can be (at this time). Whether others understand or accept this is on them, not me. I love them, and that is all I can do.” … Then, I have to let it go… And this is the strength that has given me the perspective to find some balance in a situation where I struggled to find either when it first happened.

Learning to navigate through this journey is different for everyone… We all move through it at our own pace and in our own way… What one person sees as strength; another may see as weakness. Where one person finds balance, another may struggle to gain any equilibrium at all. We are all different, and just doing the best we can in a world that can feel overwhelming at times. What about you? Have you managed to find strength and balance? Is it better some days than others? Do things happen that push you to the limits of your strength? 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… Remembering a Father

“No one is forgotten as long as there are two people – one to tell the story and another to listen.” ~ Diana Gabaldon, Drums of Autumn

When I read this quote this week, all I could think was “Yes!” … That is why I write this every week. Well, to be honest, I write for many reasons. I write for my own emotional release… I write to help others understand one perspective of the grief experience… And I write so that Bruce is not forgotten… so that his story will always exist somewhere… He was real. He loved us. And we loved him… I loved him… I still love him.

So, on this Father’s Day, despite everything going on around me, that is what I want to think about today… him. I read recently that all families have stories of origin – of how they came to be. For many families, these are the stories that are told around the table or shared at family gatherings. This is that story for us… The story of the man who became a real father to my children.

His Love
A love that is pure
A love that sees who you CAN be,
Not who you are in that moment.
A love with no strings attached;
No conditions, no rules…
Just a love that is,
From a man who embodied love…
pure, complete love.
~ Linda, November 24, 2013

Because Bruce and I were not married until later in life, we both came to the marriage with our own children. His daughter at the time was about the same age as my youngest. She was (and still is) a beautiful young woman with a gentle heart. I brought four children into our marriage. At the time, two were college age and two were in high school. Obviously, I think the moon was hung just for them, but I’m a little partial.

So, when I tell this story, I am not talking about genetics or biology. I am talking about a man who grew to love my kids unconditionally – no judgement, no preconceived ideas, or expectations – nothing but love. This is our family’s story… Another piece of Bruce’s story… A story I can tell because I was there. This is the story of a man who came into our lives for just a brief moment in time and changed everything we thought we knew about families and fathers.

However, to understand his impact, let me back up a little bit…

When I left my children’s biological father, my intent was to get my children out of a dysfunctional and unsafe home. All I wanted was to see them safe and protected. The court psychologist agreed and recommended no visitation or parental rights for my ex-husband. There is a lot more to this but suffice it to say that my ex agreed not to fight it, if he could walk away with 2/3 of our assets. I agreed… Essentially, I bought a life of peace and safety for my children, and it was the best deal I ever made.

After the divorce, I wasn’t looking for anyone or any type of relationship. However, when I met Bruce, all my plans flew out the window. We had an instant connection, and ten months later, we were married. However, because we had lived 1000 miles apart, my kids hadn’t had a lot of time to get to know him very well. They had met him and knew who he was, but they didn’t really know him… not yet.

I wanted things to work for our new family, so I started researching and reading everything I could find on step-parenting and blended families. I wanted so badly for everything to go well. Everything I read said it would take at least two years for our family to develop the relationships and new roles needed to function as a true family… and that was if things went well.

Bruce, on the other hand, had watched his own daughter struggle for years in a step-family relationship. He had his own concept of how he wanted to do this and (as far as I know) never read a single thing about step-families. Yet, he knew exactly what to do, and he did it consistently. He never pushed, and he never tried to be their father. He just spent his time being available… available to talk or listen or whatever they needed.

My kids had been through a lot… Their expectations were… Well, honestly, I couldn’t tell you what their expectations were – maybe they had no expectations. However, I can tell you that it didn’t take long before Bruce’s gentle spirit and unconditional acceptance of who they were captured their hearts and helped heal so many hurts. I can also tell you that within six months, our family was a solid unit with my kids referring to Bruce as their father… In other words – he was amazing!

Those few months are what this story is about… It is the story of how Bruce went from being a father of one to a father of five without missing a beat…

When I had moved to Michigan to marry Bruce, my youngest daughter was the only one to come with me. My oldest daughter had recently graduated college and was just starting out on her own. My second daughter was away at college. And my son was in the middle of his senior year, already 18 and did not want to move… So, to say my youngest daughter was angry about the whole situation would be an understatement.

The night we arrived in Michigan, Bruce was so excited we were there. After two days of traveling, we arrived at his door tired and hungry. He greeted the two of us with smiles and hugs. My daughter pushed him aside, went straight to her new room, shut the door and remained there. I apologized to Bruce, but he only smiled and gave the same response I would hear for the next few months, “There is nothing to apologize for… She is angry, and I can understand that. Besides, my shoulders are big enough to take it.”

Much later, (years later), I learned he had left her a note on her bed that night saying just about the same thing. He told her that he was not trying to replace anyone or be her Dad. But he was here, and he would always be here… for her… no matter what.

When she tells this story, she will tell you that she tore that note up immediately. She will also tell you that she put his words to the test… and let me tell you, she did. She tried everything to make him not like her… much less love her. But he was true to his word… he never wavered, no matter what she tried. The amazing part happened several months later on Father’s Day…

By this time, Bruce and I had known each other for about a year and a half and had been married for just 7 months. While my other kids were developing their own (positive) relationships with Bruce, my youngest had been giving him quite a run for his money. In fact, by this point, we were both resigned to the idea that this “family” thing might take a while… A looong while…

But, as they say, “Fate moves in mysterious ways.” Bruce and I had gone to church that morning, and when we returned home, there was my youngest with a tray of homemade cookies and a card on top for “Dad.” As she handed the tray to him, she sheepishly asked him if it was okay. Instantly, he pulled her into a great, big bear hug, as we all wiped the tears out of our eyes.

For me, my love for Bruce grew even more (as if that were possible) in that moment. After all, how can a woman not love a man who loves her children like his own. But, how did he manage to do that? How did he make such a significant difference in such a brief time?

He did it by being Bruce… By being himself… a big, gentle giant of a man with a heart that would not quit. Over the short time we were together, he built positive relationships with each of my kids. With my oldest (who was already a young adult), it was a peaceful, friendly relationship. I remember on one visit she introduced us to her neighbor as her mom and dad. The neighbor said, “Wow, you look just like your dad.” She didn’t try to correct him or explain. Instead, she and Bruce just smiled like Cheshire cats and hugged each other tight.

My second daughter and Bruce were tight from the very first time they met. She had picked him up at the airport near her college and driven him the two hours back home to see me. During that drive, she told him that she was glad to see her mom so happy, and she really liked him. Then, she went on to tell him that if he ever broke my heart or hurt me, she would “open a can of ‘whoop-a$$’ on him.” He used to laugh when he told that story, because she isn’t much taller than me and just as petite. He absolutely loved her fire and energy for life, and they were best buds from that day forward.

When her son was born, he also instantly bonded with his “Papa.” They would play and “hang out” for hours. In Bruce’s eyes, that boy could do no wrong. To this day, my grandson still talks about his Papa, and insists that his Papa is his guardian angel, (which makes me smile). The bond between those two is so strong it even seems to transcend this life.

My son was with me on the cruise when Bruce and I met. He was the world’s best chaperone on that trip. I love to tell the story of when he saw Bruce holding my hand. He was so serious, (but it completely cracked me up), when he commented, “I saw that man holding your hand… A little cheeky, don’t you think?” Cheeky?? What 17-year-old says, “cheeky?”

Within no time, though, my son let his guard down and stopped trying to “protect” his mom. It didn’t take long for the two of them to build a solid relationship. A relationship which was such a blessing for my son. For the first time, he had the experience of a healthy, male role model and friend… a man to show him “how to be a good and caring man”… a man to show him how to treat a woman… all things I could never do as his mother.

From the beginning, Bruce was willing to do whatever was needed to move our family forward… anything from teaching teenagers to drive and helping with homework to offering unconditional love and acceptance as they tried to figure out how they each fit into this world. It was an amazing experience! How could a woman not love a man who loves her children so completely? And what did we give to Bruce in return? A family… a big family… and all the love and craziness that comes with that.

That was my husband… That was the man who became my children’s father… That was the man who built this family. That is the man I refuse to forget and whose stories I love to tell. So as another Father’s Day comes and goes, I will tell you what I have told Bruce every year…

“Thank you, Babe, for being a Dad to my kids… being a Dad is so much more than biology… It is a life-long commitment. Thank you for stepping into their lives and showing them what a healthy man and a healthy marriage looks like. Thank you for loving us all unconditionally – no judgement, no preconceived expectations – nothing but love. You were the missing piece in our family. In our short time together, you taught us so much and brought healing where we did not think it was possible. You forever changed our lives. I have told you every day and I will say it again, ‘You are my hero and I will love you forever!‘”

Learning to navigate through this journey is different for everyone… We all move through it at our own pace and in our own way… and we each have our memories that bring tears and the memories that make us smile… each one precious in its own way. What better way to remember and honor those we love than by sharing their stories? What are some of your favorite memories? What are the stories you love to tell so that your loved one is not forgotten? If you aren’t ready to share your stories or you are someone who needs 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… Are You Still Crying?

“People think I have survived your leaving. What they don’t understand is that I have to relearn how to survive each day. Because each day you’re still gone.” ~ Unknown

I came across this quote a few weeks ago, and I can’t seem to let it go… The truth within it keeps it playing over and over in my mind. Last week I touched on this when I said that most people who have met me in the last few years aren’t even aware of mine and Bruce’s relationship. Oh, they know I was married, and they know his name was Bruce… But the relationship? They have no clue what that was like or how I was back then… They have no idea how hard losing him has been, or how I have changed since he died.

In their mind, (and I believe in most people’s minds) I have survived this loss, and life has moved on… But honestly, it hasn’t. In fact, I believe most people would be surprised to know I still hurt, and I still cry. Sure, I have learned to laugh and enjoy life again. However, that is because I have learned to push the sadness back. I learned to keep my emotions to myself. If and when I need to cry, I do that when I am alone… Even my closest friends and family rarely see that side of me.

Is that the best thing to do? Keep it in? I don’t know. Probably not, but I can’t live my whole life sad and crying. I want to enjoy my life… So, for now, I have to put those emotions up on a shelf most of the time so I can smile and live and appreciate all the people around me. However, even though I am ignoring them, I still know those emotions are there. The pain of his loss is still very real. I still wake up every morning and am reminded that Bruce is gone, and I am here… alone. Some days that is harder to handle than others… I don’t know why… It just is.

I also know it’s not healthy or realistic to hold that inside all the time. I know I need to get those emotions out every now and then, even if that means finding some space alone and letting myself cry. It’s not an everyday thing or even every week thing, but there are still times when the emotions bubble over, and I know…

These last few months have been stressful, and the past few weeks even more so. I would give anything to have Bruce here. He exuded confidence and strength… Just being in his presence made me feel safe and secure. I have missed that. I haven’t really let myself cry though… not a big “let it all out” kind of cry… Not yet. I’ve shed a tear or two here and there. I’ve looked at his picture and wished more than anything he were here. I’ve talked to him and asked him to watch over us… To let me know he is around (and he does).

That being said, I know the “big” cry is coming. I can feel it… I need it. For the past few weeks, I have found myself just wanting to let go… Needing to let go… Resenting myself for holding it in and needing to give myself permission to give in and let it out. It is reaching the point where I would do anything to feel better… even cry.


Life moves on.
Time passes.
But my heart stands still.
Lost in a space
Where I can still hear your voice:
Where your smile still greets mine;
Frozen in this space
Where you should be…
But you aren’t.
~ Linda, January 2020

These past few weeks have been a hard for all of us… Not just for me, but for this nation as a whole. We have all had to dig deep and decide what we stand for… Which means it has also been a week of questions and insecurities… For me, that is one of many triggers for missing Bruce. But I also know that we all have known pain and we all need to be heard and understood. What are your triggers? How are you dealing with the deep emotions all around us these days? What do you need us to hear today? What do you need us to understand? We would love to hear your story and share a virtual hug. 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… Who Am I?

Who am I?

That’s a good question, and honestly, my answer used to depend on the day and how I was feeling. Nowadays, though, it depends on who is listening…

There was a time in my life, when I would describe who I was by saying, “—‘s wife” or “—‘s mom.” It was a time when I was lost somewhere in someone else’s identity. In truth, I was a stay-at-home wife and mother. I also homeschooled four children and directed multiple choirs – both choir and community. Years later, even though I still described myself as “—‘s wife” or “—‘s mom,” I was a teacher at a small, Catholic school. Yet, somehow, I was still identifying myself by the people around me.

After my divorce, I began to see myself differently. I began to recognize me… who I was as a human being… Not just my family or what I did for a living, but all the parts of me – my faith, my passions, my feelings, my thoughts… The whole package. I spent time getting alone and asking myself hard questions – not allowing myself to answer with “I don’t know.”

These were good changes and helped to build up my self-value. So, by the time I met Bruce, I was ready. I knew who I was and what I thought. Not that I was stuck there… There was a need for healing and certainly room for growth, but those are probably ongoing items for most us, right? Throughout my marriage to Bruce, he encouraged that growth. He liked that I was strong and independent. He was never intimidated by me keeping my own name or my own bank account. No matter what, he was always there cheering me on to be stronger. He was never trying to make me “better” … just a stronger “me.”

I didn’t describe myself as “Bruce’s wife” anymore than he described himself as my husband. Yes, we were married, but we were both strong, independent people who simply wanted to share our lives with each other. However, neither of us had the need to overwhelm the other in our relationship… Neither of us needed to drown out the other.

Then, he was gone… And in that moment, my world imploded. All that “strength” I thought I possessed went right out the window. I was like a child wondering around in the dark – lost, alone, and scared to death. The first few weeks were spent in shock – just feeling numb. I managed to go through the motions of everyday life, but inside it felt like I was dead, too. I didn’t know how to keep going and there were many days when I didn’t want to… It took every bit of strength just to keep breathing.

I remember a particular day, about a week after Bruce died. I was at the pharmacy up the road picking up a couple of things, when I noticed two elderly women. They shuffled past me in the aisle talking about how lonely they were at home and how hard it was to live alone. Then, it dawned on me… They were widows… And worse, I, too, was a widow. I fought the idea… I couldn’t be a widow! Widows are elderly. They have gray hair. They need help. How could I be a widow?? No, this was not possible.

I know I’m a weird cookie, but I actually went home and started doing a little bit of research on widows. I learned that the average age of widows in the US is 56… 56!!! I was a little bit younger than that at the time, but still… That was not anywhere near my own ideas of what a widow was. Despite my own reality, I struggled to wrap my brain around it.

It seemed so weird to think that I was a widow… That was now a part of who I was. Then, I did this really weird (awkward) thing. Whenever I introduced myself and gave that brief “speech” of who I was, I always included the fact that I was a widow. Somehow that had now become who I was. Yes, it was a part of me, but I let it completely take over… And let me tell you, those four little words, “I am a widow,” can silence a room and stop a conversation before the words are completely out. I feel terrible about it now, but it was part of what I was going through. Maybe it was my way of trying to accept it myself. Maybe it came out because it was all I could think about 24/7. Who knows??

I do know that with time, I stopped making that a part of my “who am I” talk. Eventually, I became aware of just how awkward those few words made people… And I get it… What can you say to that?? There is nothing really that can make it right. And if you are just meeting someone, is that really what they need to know? So, I learned to keep that to myself. I learned to keep most of my thoughts and emotions limited to my journal and this space. I learned that even with people who knew about my loss, it was an awkward conversation. So, unless they specifically asked and I could look in their eyes and know their questions were genuine, I just learned not to talk about it. Don’t misunderstand… I still talked about Bruce a lot, just not the pain of losing him. Bruce’s death, my greatest loss, was something that I needed to keep to myself for the most part.

Now… These were my choices. This was how I chose to deal with it, and I don’t in any way put those decisions on anyone else. I am only sharing it because of something that happened recently… Actually, something that has happened quite a bit recently.

Life has moved forward. Many of the people that knew me then have either moved away or taken new jobs, so our time together is less than it was. You know what I mean – it’s just life. Most of the people who are close to me now, didn’t know me then. They never saw the joy I had when Bruce was alive or the pain of losing him. They never saw me wear black for months on end or heard me say I couldn’t keep going. They never saw me crying day after day or know that I practically stopped eating for years. Those are all things they don’t know… will never know.

But all those things… losing Bruce… shaped me in a way that nothing else ever has. It has left me with a hole somewhere in my soul, while at the same time given me an appreciation for just how precious this life is.

So, what happened, you ask?

Well, it’s not any one thing. Instead it is just casual conversations… Conversations about heartbreak when boyfriends and girlfriends break up and how “there is nothing worse” … Trust me – there is! Conversations about funerals – what they feel is acceptable and what isn’t. Please, trust me when I say, you don’t know what you will do until you have to do it. Conversations about other new widows and judgement about what they are or are not doing. Please, please, please, trust me – don’t judge what you don’t know. And the list goes on…

Each time one of these conversations has happened, I have been torn. I don’t know if I should feel guilty or good that they are so oblivious to my situation in regards to the things they say.

Should I remind them that I, too, have had my heart ripped out, had to plan a funeral that should never have happened so soon, and have made millions of mistakes on this “new normal” path called widowhood. Or… do I stay quiet and let them say whatever they feel they need to say. Have I done a disservice to Bruce or to them by not saying anything? Have I dishonored Bruce somehow by the simple fact that they don’t remember I am a widow, too? I know that they are aware, but does it ever factor into their thoughts when they are talking? Or does that the fact that I go on with my life lead them to believe it doesn’t hurt anymore? And finally, would it make a difference if I did say anything, or would it just make things awkward?

For me, at this point in time, I choose to stay silent. Things might change tomorrow, but for today, this is where I am. I have this blog, and I have a few people that I know I can turn too when the pain gets to be too much. While I have to be honest with myself and acknowledge that being a widow really IS a part of who I am, I know it doesn’t end there. I, also, believe there is some good to be found in everything and everything happens for a reason, even those things that bring us the most pain, and even if I don’t understand it at the time. There is also one other thing I know without a doubt… While this is something I would never, ever wish on anyone, if the time should ever come when anyone around me finds themselves on this path, struggling to figure out how they got here and how to move forward, I will be here for them… And I will understand and have compassion for their pain because of this “widow” part of who I am.

This week has been a hard one for this nation. It has been a week of hard questions and a lot of asking myself “who am I” and what do I stand for… Love and compassion – that is what I stand for. Understanding that we all have known pain and we all need to be heard and understood. Understanding that I can’t understand, but I want to listen. What about your? What about your story? What do you need us to hear today? What do you need us to understand? We would love to hear your story and share a virtual hug. 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 – A Rich Legacy

Seven years, four months, nine days, and fifteen hours since Bruce died… But who’s counting, right? … I am! That’s who! This has been the hardest seven-plus years of my life… And yet, it has also been years of great growth for me… Thanks to Bruce.

Bruce was always such a spiritual person. Religion was not his thing, although he would go to church with me if I asked. His thing was finding a way to live a peaceful, love-filled life. He often tried to share his thoughts with me, but shamefully, I wasn’t as open to his thoughts as he was to mine. I has been raised to believe my way was the right one, so I felt that I was the one on “solid God ground.”

Now, don’t get me wrong, for years I had felt frustrated with the “church” and had already been burned several times. However, I had been carefully taught from the time I was born that this was “the way.” This was the only way, so I hung on. Granted, I kept to the back and the side edges, but I hung in there… Until one day, I just couldn’t.

There were too many things that didn’t fit – too many frustrations and questions where the only answer seemed to be “You’re wrong. Be a good girl, and believe what you’re told, or you can’t be one of us.” … But I couldn’t – not anymore.

This was just a few short months before Bruce died… I remember running out of the church service in tears and crying for days. In fact, I cried so much and so hard, I actually gave myself two black eyes. To know that I needed to walk away from the one thing – the one institution – that had been a part of my life, a part of my identity, for my entire life was more than heartbreaking… I felt like a part of my soul had died.

But who do you think was there in all his kindness and love to hold me as I hurt? Yep, it was Bruce.

At first, he encouraged me to take a breath and try again. He knew how entwined my identity was with my religion… But that’s the thing… It was my religion, not my faith. I just didn’t understand that yet, although I’m pretty sure he did.

About this time, I noticed him reading The Tao of Pooh (for about the millionth time since I had known him). For the first time, I was ready to hear his thoughts, so I asked what it was about, and… could I read it too? I remember him handing me the book as he said, “It’s not a religion. I won’t replace what you feel you’ve lost. It’s simply a philosophy – nothing more. It’s just a way of looking at life. It can enhance what you think you know, but that’s it.”… And he was right.

We spent the next few weeks talking about the book… Talking about the characters and who they reminded us of… and (more importantly) who reminded us of ourselves. Bruce was definitely Pooh, accepting life as it came, and without a doubt, I was Piglet, always worrying about anything and everything.

In fact, I was a little a little worried that by reading that book (and liking it), I was somehow being “bad.” However, it didn’t take long at all to see that this book really did enhance my faith – nothing more and (thankfully) nothing less. In our conversations, where Bruce mostly listened, I would go on and on about how relevant this was to what I already believed. It was such an enlightening experience to separate my faith from what had been my religion.

One night, as we lay in bed snuggling, I remember fretting over some little bit of nothing. Bruce kissed me, pulled me closer, and said, “Stop worrying, Piglet… It’s time to sleep,” – a gentle reminder to let it go and let life happen. A few short hours later, Bruce was gone… dead… and my life went into a tailspin. I felt so lost… so abandoned… so absolutely alone.

Where was God in all this? Why had he allowed this? Why didn’t he comfort me through this? Why couldn’t I feel him near me? Isn’t that what I had always been told or read?

I pleaded, but couldn’t find any comfort from God… So then, I got angry… very angry. When people told me “this is God’s plan” or that “Bruce was in a better place” or, my favorite (insert sarcasm), “God needed another angel,” it just pissed me off even more. Honestly, I stayed mad for a long time… I yelled at God. I cursed at God. I pitched full-blown temper tantrums at God… Until I was too exhausted to be mad any more.

Then, I got still… very still… In fact, Psalm 46:10, “Be still and know that I am God” became my mantra. (Weird, huh after months of being so angry?) Here’s the thing – I fully believe (and have believed all my life) that God is so connected to us he understands our emotions, and his shoulders are big enough to handle my anger. Shoot, if he is an “all-powerful, all-knowing, all-everything” God, then isn’t he also “all-suffering?” Doesn’t he understand and share my pain and grief? … I think so.

Once I got quiet long enough to listen, it was Bruce’s voice I heard first… His quiet beliefs on how to live life – “as it comes.” And that is where my real quest began, because out of the absolute destruction of my life, a beautiful experience began to grow…

It started with me listening to the speakers Bruce listened to and reading the books he read. The more I listened and read, the more I learned… about Bruce and what made him tick… about how he was able to live his life the way he did. This opened my heart and mind to understanding more and more about who or what God is (at least, to me). I began to realize that God really is everywhere – in every thing and every person… to understand that no one person or group could lay claim to “owning God,” which I believe was what Bruce was trying to say all along.

Bruce lived a life of compassion and unconditional love. I know he didn’t agree with everything or everyone. I know he got hurt and frustrated… but I also know he didn’t hate anything or anyone either. He had a way of accepting people where they were, and moving forward from there. I have never known anyone to live a more “Christ-like” existence… No judgement, no “holier-than-thou,” no “my way is the right way” … just acceptance, love, compassion, and absolute graciousness… And now, I was beginning to understand how he got there.

For the last two years, I have been blessed even more by this legacy of his. I have come to know other people like Bruce… Other like-minded people who also believe that our faith/spiritual path is not defined or limited by religion. People who also believe God is about love, relationships, and compassion… And can be found in all religions and people. While I may be comfortable identifying as “Christian” (although there are a hundred definitions for that), someone else is just as comfortable identifying as a Muslim or Hindu. Yet, no matter what we call ourselves, we can all find a beautiful space… a common ground where we learn to see God in each other.

All of this has led me to another thought… Something that is also close to my heart… Just as there is no one right religion, there is no one right way to grieve either! I have spent years being told how to grieve:
• Take your time – hurry up.
• Clean out his stuff – keep his stuff.
• Date – don’t date.
• Keep his pictures displayed – put his pictures away.
• Talk about him – don’t talk about him.
And the list goes on…

If you have ever grieved the loss of a loved one, I am sure you know what I mean. I would bet you have heard some form of it, because no matter how you grieve, there is someone who would do it different… There is someone who believes their way is the right way… the best way… and you should do it their way. To that, all I can say is, “Nope!” Let’s be real… We are all different with different experiences, personalities, and viewpoints… Each of us has to figure out the best way for ourselves – not anyone else. After all, we are unique and different, which means we will all find answers and comfort in various sources… and that’s a good thing.

If nothing else, I believe 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 forms and people… One that says “Be compassionate, even to yourself… Grieve as you need to grieve, and love life however it comes.”

I am only sharing my thoughts this week… a thankfulness 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 – Grief is Grief… And That’s Okay

“Grief is the pain you feel when you lose something you care about.” – Dr. John Delony, Dave Ramsey Show

Listening to Dave Ramsey is something I do when I am in the car. Bruce introduced me to his financial plan when we were first married, and I was hooked immediately. Because of his plan, I paid off our home in eight years and should be set to retire on time despite the financial set-backs in my 40’s.

So why am I talking about Dave Ramsey here? Because the other day when I tuned in, he was talking to Dr. John Delony about “Dealing with the Disappointment of Canceled Plans and Missed Milestones,” a recent blog on his website.* Now, I will just warn you, while he has great financial advice, in my opinion, Dave doesn’t come across as the nicest guy on the block… To put it bluntly, I would never call into his show, because he scares me. However, when he is talking calmly, I truly like what he has to say.

So, when I tuned in, the first thing I heard was the quote above. Grief? Why in the world was “grief” being discussed on a financial program? I missed the beginning so I honestly couldn’t tell you, but what they were saying definitely struck a cord with me. They were discussing all the things we are missing out on due to the current pandemic situation. (Don’t worry… I’m not getting political here.) Dave was saying how disappointed he was about the milestones and vacations his family had missed out on. Then, he went to say how guilty he felt about that, especially when so many people are dealing with things that are much, much worse, such as losing jobs, no income, illness and death.

Honestly, I could relate to that too. I was very disappointed when I had to cancel my April trip I had planned for Bruce’s birthday. I made staying home work, but I was still disappointed. The thing was, I felt silly being so disappoint for the very reasons he named.

Then, Dr. Delony reiterated and said, “Don’t feel guilty… You feel what you feel… Grief is the pain you feel when you lose something you care about. That thing might be a trip or missing a milestone or it might even be a death.” He talked about how it wasn’t a competition… Grief is Grief… You feel what you feel and that’s okay.

Boy was he right! I immediately began to think back to those days shortly after Bruce died…

Back then, while some people may have said things that really weren’t helpful, for the most part, I know they meant well. I know their hearts were in the right place, and mostly, I have forgotten about them. However, there were some things said that to this day still get under my skin. Those were the comments where comparisons about grief were made… Where I was made to feel that I wasn’t valid to be grieving because “obviously” someone else had it worse.

One of the first ones I encountered was when someone asked me how I was doing. I responded that “this” was hard. I was okay, but still missing Bruce terribly. Then, they asked how Bruce’s Mom was doing. I responded that I thought she was struggling… Burying your own child is a horrific thing that no one should ever have to do. To all of this, the person responded, “You two need to remember that y’all are not the only ones to ever lose someone you love.” (Of course, as they said this, their spouse stood by their side and all their children were alive and well.)
Seriously? Were they really saying that we shouldn’t grieve because we weren’t the only ones to ever lose someone we love?? What kind of response is that? Because our loss isn’t something new or different, it wasn’t valid?? That was ridiculous!

There was another incident about 3 months after Bruce passed. The son of a sweet friend was killed in a motorcycle accident. It was horrible! He was young and full of life. Then, on a beautiful afternoon, as he was stopped at a stop sign, a truck took a turn too wide and hit him. He hung on for several days as we all prayed and his mother stayed by his side… But sadly, he didn’t make it. My friend’s grief and pain were too much… To say it was awful would be a huge understatement.

Yet, a few days later, someone came up to me and said, “Well, your grief can’t be nearly as much as hers. You only lost your husband. You can get remarried. She can never replace her son.” I was stunned! First of all, who ever said grief was a competition? No one else has any idea how deep another person’s pain is… And just for the record… No one can be replaced… ever!

My friend has another son… does he “replace” the son she lost? Of course not! My first child was still-born. Did my other children “replace” that tiny baby boy? No! At this point, I haven’t dated, but even if I did, would that person really replace Bruce? Never! That is a ludicrous idea! Each person in our lives holds a special place in our heart that only they can fill – you can’t replace them!

A few years ago, I noticed a friend at work wiping tears from her eyes. So, I asked if she was okay. She wasn’t… Her dog, who had been her only companion for many years had died the day before. Then she told me that she felt silly asking for time off to grieve her dog. Plus, she “felt terrible crying to me because I had lost my husband, while she had ‘only’ lost her dog.” I remember holding her and reassuring her that her loss was just as important and painful for her as mine had been for me… There was no judgement – only a friend caring for a friend who was hurting.

Which brings me back to the idea of comparing grief… Don’t! That’s really all I can say… Don’t!

It’s a horrible thing to do. All of us lose things that are important to us… Sometimes it is a thing, such as a canceled trip, a missed event, or a special reminder of a day gone by… Sometimes it is a job or our home or the security of our family… Maybe it is a pet or a friend or a loved one who either walks out of our life voluntarily, or maybe they pass away. Yes… for each of us, some of these things may hurt more or longer than other things. However, we don’t know what is in someone else’s heart… Even if we knew the person they lost, our relationship with that person would have been different, so we still have no way of knowing their pain.

So… I guess my point is don’t deny anyone – you or someone else – the chance to grieve. It is an important part of healing and/or coming to a peaceful place about the loss… Whatever that loss may be. Own your grief and allow others to own theirs… If you must do something try supporting each other… loving each other… And just allow the grief to run its course naturally. I believe that is the best way to help someone heal and move forward.

* https://www.daveramsey.com/blog/how-to-deal-with-disappointment

Peace, Love and Grief… And It’s Mother’s Day Again

Happy Mother’s Day!

I cannot tell you how much I used to hate those words… After the chaos of my first marriage, I carried way to much guilt to feel like I should be celebrated at all. My kids had to deal with so much crap within that chaos, and I couldn’t bear the idea of any of them telling me “thank you” for their childhood or for being their mom. I made so many mistakes when they were growing up, and I struggled to forgive myself.

This was a struggle for me for years, although my kids would always disagree. For whatever reason, they seem to understand so many of the decisions I made back then… And they stood strong when we left. Through the years, we had learned to survive as a team, and when we left, that only intensified. In other words, my kids are amazing! They are the reason I can toast today and still smile.

It’s funny, though… Because when I look back, the first Mother’s Day with Bruce is another that will always stand out. Not just because it was my first Mother’s Day with Bruce, but because of the healing that he encouraged through his love…

We had only known each other a little over a year and had only been married for a few months. I had absolutely no expectations for the day. After all, I wasn’t his mother or the mother of his child. Yes, when he married me, that was a package deal which included my children, but three of the four were over 18. My youngest was the only one that lived with us… and at the time, she wasn’t very happy about that.

I remember waking up that Sunday morning, and the sun was shining in Michigan – something we hadn’t seen in months. As we lay in the bed snuggling, he reached over the edge and produced a small card which he handed to me with a mischievous grin. I remember handing it back and saying, “Don’t.” I wasn’t crying or upset, I just wanted to ignore the day. I didn’t want anyone to celebrate me… But he wasn’t having any of that.

I protested and said, “You don’t have to do this… My being a mother has nothing to do with you.” To which he replied, “You’re being a mother is a huge part of who you are, and that has everything to do with me. I will always celebrate who you are, because I love you… And that means all of you.”

I remember the card talked about his love for me and my love for my kids. I remember the tears pouring down my face as I read it, and in the end, he had to read it to me. Inside, was a receipt for three tickets to go see The Phantom of the Opera that afternoon (Bruce, my youngest daughter and myself) … Tickets? To the Opera?? From Bruce???

Now, I need to explain a little bit about Bruce. He made no pretense about who he was. He was a truck driver who loved body building, football and hockey. He was not a fan of the theater, especially musicals or opera. The idea that a man had gone outside of his own comfort zone to give me (and participate in) something that was solely about me was something I had never experienced before.

I remember being skeptical – Would he really go? Was he going to take me but ruin it because it really wasn’t anything he would ever want to do? … I questioned all of it.

However, true to who he was, it was the most wonderful afternoon! He made it a true event – nothing was off limits… and to top it all off, he swore he loved and enjoyed it, as well! Whether that last part was really true or not, I’ll never know. He always swore it was, and so I will take him at his word.

Every year after that, Bruce always made it a point to celebrate me on Mother’s Day. It didn’t matter where we were or what life had thrown our way, he always made sure we spent the day doing something I loved. After he died, that first Mother’s Day was hard. I didn’t want to celebrate… I found myself going back to those feelings old of guilt about my children’s past. But I must say, my kids wouldn’t have it. They did and continue to make this day a special one…

And this year was no different…

A couple of years ago, I was just diagnosed with breast cancer and didn’t know what my future would hold, or if I would even see another Mother’s Day… But here I am – sassy as ever and loving life! And… In less than an hour, I will be celebrating with three of my four children. (My oldest lives in Europe, so we will talk this afternoon. Thanks to technology!)

I am so grateful to my kids for the joy and love they add to my life. I know that each moment we live is the only one we are promised. Life is crazy with its twists and turns… You just never know what lies ahead. In other words, life has its own way, and all we can do is go along for the ride. I can’t change what was nor what is ahead. I can only live in this moment… soaking it all in and remembering to be thankful for what it is…

Everyone deals with loss, grief, and life in their own way. There are pieces of our past we might change if we could. However, since we can’t change any of that, we can either get caught up in the stuff we don’t like or choose to find moments worth celebrating. Bruce taught me to celebrate and let the rest go… We don’t need to always be happy, and it’s okay to feel what we feel and be who we are… This is how life was meant to be – learning to let go of what feels wrong and celebrating the good.

These are only my thoughts and reactions this week as I celebrate this day without Bruce. Maybe something in this feels familiar… Perhaps you too have struggled something similar. If so, we are here, you are not alone. 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. *

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