Tag: widower

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… Finding Hope After the Why

“Why?… Why did you leave me here?”

I tend to ask that question a lot, especially on mornings like today. Mornings where it feels like the world is falling down around me… I know the world has never been a perfect place. However, over the last few days (months even) when I have woken up, the news has been filled, absolutely overflowing, with sickness, death, anger, violence, and division. You name it, it’s there and it’s awful. All I want to do is crawl back in bed and cry.

I won’t lie. When the world becomes more that I think I can handle, I find myself wishing above anything else to have Bruce beside me once again… Holding me tight and telling me that he’s got me… I am safe… Reassuring me that everything will be okay. That’s what he did… That is where I felt completely safe… But that was then, and this is now… He is not here… I AM alone…

I know this isn’t about me… I know I’m not an any immediate danger. There is no one threatening me in any way. In fact, our little town actually came together as a community yesterday (yes, everyone) to watch and celebrate the first manned rocket launch since 2011. Our many differences made no difference… Everyone stood as one – watching and cheering. It was such an inspiring contrast to so many other things happening.

Yet, it is those other events that I see on the news – illness, poverty, feelings and attitudes that have been brewing and dividing us for years – that breaks my heart. How do I reconcile what I see on the news happening in the communities around me with what I just experienced outside my own door? I know they are both real… And that scares me, too.

I know Bruce would say that the river doesn’t try to move the rocks, but flows around them… While I know he was talking about accepting life as it happens, I also know he wasn’t saying to accept maltreatment. His support was one of the biggest healing factors after the chaos and violence of my first marriage. He was a cautious man… my “gentle giant” who believed in being safe in a world that can sometimes feel out of control… Which is why I still find myself wanting him here… beside me… holding me… I want him to be the strong one for a while… I’m tired. (Yes, I guess, that probably does sound selfish. I’m just saying how I feel.)

Earlier this week, I listened to a Dr. Edith Eva Eger, and I must say that this morning her words are helpful. She is a holocaust survivor and a psychologist who deals with trauma… Something this country is overwhelmed with right now. I think that is what caught my attention… We have all had trauma in our lives. However, it is how we deal with it that makes the difference.

She talked about how trauma has two sides – the victimizer and the victimized… And she chose that wording carefully, because while a person may be victimized, that doesn’t mean you have to be a victim. Being a victim, according to Dr. Eger, is an attitude… And since an attitude comes from within us, that makes it a choice. Let me be very clear, trauma is real… Victimizers and victims are very real. It’s our attitude that determines our response, and our response determines whether we are victims or survivors.

The truth is we can find ourselves being victimized by all kinds of things – situations, people… and even our own minds. Yes, our own minds. Dr Eger talked about how when we allow ourselves to be in “victim mode,” we create our own “concentration camp” within our minds with ourselves as both the captors and the victims. She also said that each of us has the potential to be like Hitler and like Mother Teresa (not “or”) – no one is perfect… We all have good and bad within us. It is all about the choices we make… I know she is right… I know Bruce would say the same… to face whatever is before me with love, compassion, peace, and the presence of mind to remain calm and safe… To be true to who I am and who I want to be.

In my first marriage, I remained a “victim” for 20+ years before I finally left. However, even then, I stayed a “victim” in my own mind for many more years, as I allowed my ex-husband’s words to terrorize me. Thankfully, Bruce was the voice of reason that helped me change the “talk” going on in my own mind and the hope that helped me work my way out of that mindset.

Still, it didn’t end there… That mindset is a tough battle to overcome…

When Bruce died, I must admit that I didn’t just grieve for him… The first few years found me in a dark, dark place… I was definitely in “victim-mode” as I struggled with the reality of his death. Back then I did a lot of “why did you leave me here” type thinking.

As you may remember, last week I wrote about those years, the legacy Bruce left behind, and how I am learning to embrace it. This week has pushed me a little farther… It has been a “do you believe it enough to live it” kind of week. Dr. Eger was a fabulous reminder of how important it is to put my money where my mouth is… How to handle the “captors” in my own head and not let fear and frustration take over my mindset… All the same things Bruce had said and would continue to say if he were here.

So… That is where I am… Yes, I would give anything to have him here… Yes, I asked his picture again this morning why he left me here to figure all this out by myself… And, more importantly, while I still miss him terribly, I know I am fine… Life is good, and I can do this!

So… This has been my week. What about yours? Do you ever find yourself in “victim mode” and struggling to get out? It’s normal… That is a rabbit hole that tugs us further and further down, until we force ourselves to look at the world from another angle, and that’s not easy. 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, 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. *

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 Good Old Days

“One of life’s great tragedies – We don’t know we are living in the good old days until the good old days are gone.” ~ Christian White, Second Skin

That quote came from an audible book I started listening to this week, and as soon as I heard it, it filled my heart and soul. There is nothing more true… or more tragic.

So many times (like this week), when I am missing Bruce, the memories come flooding back. The strange thing is most of those memories are simple day to day moments. Sure, I often remember and write about the big moments… Things that defined our relationship or took us down another path in our lives. But to be honest, I believe it is those day to day moments that may have shaped us even more, because those moments were the foundation of our lives… They were the anchor on which our responses to the bigger moments seemed to rely.

The day in and day out of our lives together created a simply routine that over time brought us closer and closer together. The crazy thing… And the sad thing is I took them for granted. Those really were the good old days, but I didn’t know it. I didn’t know just how special they really were. Nor did I know how quickly they would end or how much I would miss them.

I have found myself thinking about those “good old day” moments this week… The way Bruce always started his day in his easy chair, leaning back, watching the news, working his Sudoku and drinking a cup of coffee. That was his time… He wasn’t ready for conversation yet, but as I went about my own morning routine, he always had a smile as I passed by or a gentle squeeze of my hand if I passed close enough. Those smiles and those gentle touches are so special to me now.

I used to love our Sunday afternoons… Whether we were grilling or cooking in the kitchen, there was always music playing, and that man, beer in hand, would be barefoot and dancing as he went about making dinner. Sometimes I helped, and sometimes I just sat on one of the bar stools and talked to him. But it never failed that at some point, he would take my hand and spin me around the floor for quick dance and hug. Such a simple moment… but such a precious memory.

When we were in the car, he never talked much… Of course, he wasn’t a huge talker any time, but in the car, (generally speaking) he was even more quiet. But always, he had one hand either on my leg or holding my hand. I remember once when we were first dating, as he placed his hand on my leg he said, “I hope you don’t mind. I just can’t be near you and not touch you.” I remember grinning and telling him I loved it… And that sealed it…

There were other simple moments that made up our lives. For example, we always went to bed together and woke up together. It wasn’t like we had ever talked about it, and decided we should do that… We just did it… from day one. Yet, the act of starting and ending our days together became as important to us as breathing… It was just a part of how we functioned as a couple.

These were the day to day moments that made up our lives. There are so many of them, I could go on and on… but I won’t. I am sure you get the picture and are thinking of your own simple moments that you miss. That’s just it… I miss those moments the most, I think. They made up my day and our routine. Those were our “good old days” and we didn’t even know it… Not until they were gone.

I have spent the past seven years trying to re-establish a day to day routine… a “new normal,” as they say. One that can no longer include Bruce, no matter how much I wish it could. It’s been hard… Sometimes I feel like I am making progress, but then, out of nowhere, I seem to take several steps backward and have to start again.

But somewhere along this path, (the one without Bruce), I came to realize that these are also “the good old days.” I am blessed to have most of my children living nearby and my grandson right here in my home. My life is different without Bruce, but there is still laughter and love and so many precious moments that I wouldn’t miss for the world.

So, yes… Those were the good old days, and I miss them terribly. I hate that I didn’t know to appreciate them while they were happening… However, these are the good old days, too… And this time I want to soak in every one of them and count my blessings as they happen!

So, that was my world this week. I apologize for not posting last week. I don’t often miss a week, but life got a little crazy, and priorities had to be handled. I don’t know if you can relate to my thoughts on the “good old days” and those simple moments or maybe this is something you are experiencing as well. Either way, I would love to hear from you. What were the simple moments that made up your good old days? Which simple moments do you miss most? If you would like to share your thoughts or 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… Do You Remember?

This weekend is a bit tough for me between special days, precious memories and a holiday. I hope you won’t mind if I simple share some of my thoughts…

Friday:
Hi Babe,
Do you remember? Do you remember when we moved into this house? It was nine years ago tomorrow. We were so excited! The first home that was ours… We picked it together and would pay for it together. You always said it was your early birthday present since your birthday is just two days later. I remember the excitement of moving in – deciding where to put each piece of furniture and hang each picture.

You and your Dad worked so hard moving all the “big stuff,” being so careful with things you both knew were precious to me. All the while, your Mom and I worked side by side unloading each box and stocking every cabinet and closet.

I replay the joy and excitement of that day over and over in my mind almost daily. You finally had your “dream come true” – a Florida home near the beach. I finally had my “dream come true” – a home for us… one that we chose together… One to live in for the rest of our days.

It took a few weeks, but we worked together unpacking boxes, hanging pictures, arranging (and rearranging) furniture, and filling cabinets and drawers. For less than two years, we basked in the glory of our “beach side” home.

Then… just like that, you were gone… And here I am – alone…

So many times, I just sit in the middle of the floor wondering where you are and why am I all alone? How, in God’s name, did it end up like this?… Me here… And you there? I can feel you all around me. Yet, I can’t see you anywhere.

I miss you so much that sometimes I can’t even breathe for wanting you so badly.


Saturday:
Hey Babe,
This has been a hard night… I’m not supposed to be here. I didn’t want to be here. I knew months ago that this would be a tough weekend. I still have Easter and your birthday to get through. I just wanted to be alone with you… at the beach.

Then, this virus hit, rentals were canceled as one way to keep people home, and so here I am… Trying to smile… Trying not to ruin anyone’s holiday… Filling baskets and hiding eggs, when all I really want is to be with you – quietly by the sea. I knew… I planned it… Yet, here I am – hiding what I feel (or trying to anyway) and smiling so I don’t ruin anyone’s holiday.

Nine years ago today, we moved into this home… our home. This is the longest I have lived anywhere in my adult life… And most of it alone. (Weird, huh?) I hate being here without you. Yet, I can’t imagine being anywhere else. Then, tomorrow is Easter.

Do you remember our last Easter? I woke up to an empty basket and thought you had forgotten me… But I should have known better. After a morning walk on the beach, I came home to a dozen roses. Then, you spent the rest of the day putting up a storm door on the front so I could have more sunshine in the house (something I had been begging for since we moved in).

You always had a way of making holidays something worth remembering… You always knew how to make me smile.

Sunday:
Hi Babe,

Well, the day is done, and it is nighttime. Everyone has gone to bed and the house is dark and quiet. This is always my time to just gather my thoughts… My time to think about the day – what has happened and what lies ahead for tomorrow.

Today was a really nice day, which is kind of surprising because it didn’t seem like it was going to be. First of all, I was kind of dreading it… Holidays can be hard and a bit tricky. I never know how it’s going to go because I miss you so. Today, I started off a bit teary and way too sensitive.

Honestly, I wanted to just sit and feel sorry for myself, but that seemed a bit silly. So, I put on a new dress and sandals, and decided I was going to make it a good day… And it was. It was quiet, but the food was good, and the company was better. It was just a nice family day. Throughout the day, I kept thinking how much you would have liked today, and it made me smile when your name was brought up and a memory shared… I guess I’m not the only one that misses you.

Tomorrow is your birthday, though… That one can be a little harder. I always want to spend the day celebrating your life – celebrating you. However, it’s not that simple… I miss you… and I still love you. So, I’m not too sure what tomorrow will hold.

When you were here, we always went to your folks’ place in Alabama to celebrate your birthday. Those were such great vacations! I miss those! I miss spending that whole week celebrating you – a week of sunshine, family, beach, and a little day drinking. We always had so much fun! It’s still hard to believe those days are done.

Tomorrow will be hard. With this “stay at home” order in place, I’m not really sure what to do to honor you… to honor your life… but I will try. I can promise you that as long as there is a breath left in my body, I will always make sure you aren’t forgotten!

I love you, Babe… and that’s forever!

Well, that’s what is going on in my world this week. If you think about it, I would really appreciate a prayer or two tomorrow, please. I know we all deal with life, loss and grief in our own ways. So, what about you? Do you ever have those times where it seems like there is too much to deal with? Where you wonder how and if you can make it through everything you are facing? If you would like to share your thoughts or 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… Looking for Springtime

Your Gift
In each breeze, let me feel your touch.
In each sunrise, let me experience your joy.
In each storm, let me feel your strength.
In the quiet, let me hear your voice telling me –
All is well…
Each moment was planned;
Each smile was for me;
And your acceptance of life was your gift to help me through this storm.
I loved you
and even now… you love me.
~ Linda, September 2013

Another year… And still I find myself waiting for springtime and asking, “Is there a springtime in grief?” Is there a time when life feels new again? When hope and joy fill us with the excitement of all things new and fresh? I know there is… And there are many moments when I feel it too. However, Bruce’s birthday is also in the spring (and rapidly approaching) … And while it is a time when I celebrate his life, it is also a reminder that he is not here…

Yet, if he were here, I know exactly what Bruce would tell me. He was a man who seemed to never lose hope. He was vigilant in spotting the signs of spring and in finding those things that could put hope into any situation…

We met totally by chance on a small sailing schooner in the Virgin Islands. One week was all it took and he said he knew he loved me. He would always tell me that through all the years after his divorce, he always knew there was someone out there just for him… Someone he would love and would love him back.

As for me, I can’t say that… I wasn’t sure how I felt after that first week. I found my own feelings overwhelming and scary. I could think of a thousand reasons why it would never work… For starters, we lived 1000 miles apart. (I was from South Carolina, and he was Michigan.) However, within 24 hours of leaving that ship, I knew without a doubt that my future was with him. Ten short months later, I moved to Michigan and we were married.

This man had not only captured my heart, he was the other half of my soul.

My move to Michigan happened in November. Michigan winter was just setting in and came as quite a shock to this little southern girl. I did not realize that a place could be so cold… and for so long! I didn’t realize the reality of the term “so cold it will take your breath away.” I had no idea that snow could fall continuously for days and then stay for months.

Before Michigan, I could probably count the number of times I had seen snow on one hand. So, that first year found me completely unprepared… This place was a whole new experience for me, and I had a lot to learn about living in such a climate.

When I moved to Michigan, Bruce had promised he would keep me warm, and he did everything in his power to do so. However, try as he might, he couldn’t shorten a Michigan winter or make it feel warm enough for this southern belle. In South Carolina, by the end of March, things are usually starting to warm up. (Plus, they are never as cold as Michigan). But in Michigan, there is still snow (either falling on still on the ground) at the end of March. That was unfathomable to me.

I remember one particular Sunday afternoon that first March. I was standing at the slider watching yet another snowstorm roll in, and the tears started to roll down my cheeks. I was so conditioned to expect spring in March – cool nights, warm days, flowers, birds, green grass, sunshine… This felt so wrong. I didn’t think I could handle another snowstorm… I needed sunshine… And I found myself wondering if I had moved to some winter version of hell, and this interminable gray and cold would last forever.

At just that moment, Bruce came up behind me, put his arms around my waist, and pulled me back to lean into him. As he held me close, he spoke softly into my ear, “You okay?”

I replied, “No… It’s never going to stop snowing.”

“Do you see that those branches on that bush?” he asked as he nodded toward a bush just outside the window. (I nodded.) “Well, keep watching them, because in about 6 more weeks you will see a miracle. You will see green buds appear, and you’ll know that springtime really does happen… even in Michigan.”

I would like to say that I smiled and answered, “Oh thank you, Babe. I will believe you and wait patiently.” But I didn’t… Instead I cried out loud and said, “SIX MORE WEEKS?? Are you kidding me? I’ll never make it!” That poor man… he just held me closer and let me cry.

In the years that followed, we laughed many times thinking back on that story. Every spring he would remind me not to give up hope… spring really would come… even in Michigan.

At this point in my life, I have spent many springs without Bruce. Each year I find myself remembering that story, and comparing it to my life now… my life without the man who really was my springtime… Like Michigan, this journey often feels gray and cold, and I find myself wondering if I will ever feel the hope and joy that life can offer as deeply as did when Bruce was by my side. Will I ever have that carefree, walk-barefoot-in-the-grass, life-is-wonderful feeling again?

I know… Bruce would say, “Yes.” I can almost hear him tell me to be patient. Spring will come back to my life… and when I look real close, I really can start to see those buds on the branches of my life turning green… And I know he would tell me to never give up; there is always the promise of spring.

I guess, I have learned through the years that the only answer to get from here to there is patience… something I have always struggled with. Therefore, I don’t pretend it is an “easy” answer. However, I know he is standing behind me, pulling me close to lean in to him, saying, “Keep watching… Springtime really does happen.”

Everyone deals with life, loss, and grief in their own way and in their own time. We will each search and find the “springtime” in our lives at our own pace. After all, we all find answers and comfort in various sources, which is what makes us all unique and different. I am only sharing my thoughts. What about you? If you are struggling with grief, loss, loneliness, please know you are not alone – We are here. 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… Telling Our Story

“Your story is the most powerful part of who you are – the struggles, failures, successes, and everything in between. Remember always to stay open to new experiences and never let doubters get in the way.” ~ Michelle Obama, Becoming

When I started this blog years ago, it was to tell a story – my story. My story of what this grief journey was like for me. I learned early on that we each experience grief in our own way, and my journey may not sound anything like yours… Or it might sound a lot like yours. But in the process of telling my story, I hoped for two things:

1. I hoped and prayed that by sharing my experiences, I might help at least one other person understand that their own experiences or feelings were “normal.” (If there is such a thing as normal on this path.) That they weren’t alone… There was someone else out here who understood.

2. For my own sanity, I simply needed to tell my story. As the quote says, “it is the most powerful part of who I am.” I needed to get it out… I needed to feel like I still had a voice… And, honestly, I needed to be heard.

So, week after week, I have shared whatever was going on in my world and how I was feeling. I have shared the good times and the bad. I have shared my stumbling and my growth… and many of you have shared yours with me, as well. What a blessing you have been to me!

This week… well, this week the story has been so strange! Wouldn’t you agree? With everything happening, it has been beyond surreal. I have had a mix of emotions all week long. In our house, we have taken this situation seriously, without going hysterical. We are all at home, social distancing, having items delivered versus going to the store, working and schooling from home, going for walks and trying to remain positive and appreciative as we pass the time.

It’s still stressful, though. (I’d be lying if I said otherwise.) We have been trying to find the balance between watching enough news to stay “in the know,” while not watching so much that we get stressed from negative news overload. It can be hard, trying to act like this is “normal” and not getting caught up in all the frenzy.

Honestly, I think I am doing pretty good… at least, on the outside. However, the emotions on the inside seem to have a life of their own. (We can’t help what we feel, just what we do with them, right?) On the outside, I can smile and go on with my day. However, on the inside, my emotions can go from feeling fine and dandy to “meh” to downright frustration. (Remind you of anything?)

Yea… me too. It sounds a lot like grief, doesn’t it? Thursday night, as I lay in bed awake – unable to sleep – I came across an article that actually called it out. It is grief… It is a grief for what is happening and those who are dying. It is a grief for what our lives were like two weeks ago compared to now. It is a grief for our future, because our “plans” don’t seem very relevant anymore… and that list goes on and on.

And… just like those who grieve, there are many ways of responding… There are those who will deny what is happening, and those who will be frozen with fear. There are those who will “be good and do as they are told,” and those who put a voice to their depression and/or anxiety. And… There are those (like me) who will set their emotions aside just enough to smile through the day…. (Then, release them in the quiet, darkness of the night.)

I guess it is one of those things I have gotten better at through the years than I had realized. So… let’s put it out there, since that is what I do here. What am I feeling these days?

Well, to be honest. It depends on the moment. There are times (like today while tending my flower gardens), when I am able to completely forget all this and just get lost in my own thoughts. Then, there are times when I miss my family and friends or when I miss having time to myself. There are also times when I can laugh, and there are times when I really just want to cry (and I don’t even know why).

This week I had to cancel my trip for Bruce’s birthday weekend. It’s been a couple of years since I have been able to get away to celebrate him and us, and I was really looking forward to it. I had a cute, little cottage rented by the beach. I had planned to spend my days walking, reading, writing and just remembering. However, the beaches are closed, and all rentals are cancelled. Life has changed… I get it… It is best for now. I know there will be other years for going away to celebrate and remember. It’s not the end of the world. I’m just disappointed… That’s all.

Then there are the nights… It has been a while since insomnia has reared its head. Most nights I am fine, but there have been a few nights I found myself lying in bed, struggling to turn my mind off… and I can’t. In fact, usually, those are the nights when I find myself thinking about Bruce.

Part of me wonders what it would be like if he were still here… If we were going through this together? What would his response be? I don’t really know… Who could have ever imagined this even three weeks ago?

I do know this, though… I know he would be a calm and steady source of strength. I know that no matter how I was feeling, I would be able to lay in his arms at night and find the strength and security that I find myself longing for each night.

I don’t know what this next week will hold for any of us… I have no idea where any of this will lead. I just know I keep praying for those who are sick, those who are dead or dying, and their loved ones… For those out of work and their families… And for the rest of us as we watch and wait…

And I grieve… for all of us…

Everyone deals with life, loss, and grief in their own way and in their own time. Through this strange time, the best we can do is be patient with one another as we all find our way along this path… Keeping in mind that we all find answers and comfort in various sources, which is what makes us all unique and different. Do you have something that provides that sense of calmness in a storm? If so, would you share it with us? There may be someone out there who needs to hear exactly what you have to say…

If you are struggling with grief, loss, loneliness, please know you are not alone – We are here. 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.

Peace, Love and Grief… From the Outside Looking In

I always write from the perspective of the person grieving, since that is where I am… That is what I know. This blog is simply meant to be a journal (of sorts) of what this journey has been like for me in the hopes that someone else can relate to it and know they aren’t alone. This week, though, I was reminded of what it was like before I was thrust onto this path… before I was the widow feeling lost in a world of grief… Back when I had no idea what grief was all about…

My first marriage lasted 20 years before I finally left. It was a hard decision, but the aggression and violence were only getting worse. We tried counseling for a while. He was diagnosed with several mental health issues for which there was help, but he refused… So, honestly, I gave up. I had to face reality and come to terms with the fact that I couldn’t take all of the responsibility to make that marriage work. For one reason or another, it still took several more years to get divorced. However, that isn’t what this story is about; it is just to give you a timeline.

Throughout this time, I had been a small-town, parochial schoolteacher. I loved my job – the kids, the families, and the staff. These people had become my family, and I loved them dearly. At one point early in our separation, one of the families in our school experienced a great loss. The family consisted of two sweet, wonderful, loving boys, Mom (who was pregnant), and Dad (who was a doctor). I don’t know their whole story, and it isn’t mine to tell.

All I can say with any certainty is that one day the mother started feeling ill, and before anyone could help, she died. It was sudden, and it was awful! The whole town was devastated. All of us did whatever we could to gather around this family in an effort to love and support them. As the school staff, we circled tight around those two young boys with more love than you could ever imagine.

Move forward a couple of years later, I was in the final months before my divorce would be complete. (We had been in the process for well over three years.) This Dad started calling “simply to talk.” It wasn’t just nice, it was easy conversation. After a few weeks, he asked me out, but my divorce wasn’t final. It was set for the following month, but not yet. So, I explained that I couldn’t and why. (Yes, I know there are a lot of people who won’t get that. I’m not judging anyone else or what they do… Just my own personal convictions.)

So, we made plans to go out one week after my divorce would be final. Things went fine… It was a little bit awkward, but that was no surprise to either of us. It was my first date in over 23 years, and he said it was his first date since his wife died.

I didn’t know enough then to understand what that really meant. At the time, I assumed it meant we were in similar situations… However, I couldn’t have been more wrong. Like most people who have never experienced the loss of a spouse, I had no idea what he was going through. To my mind, being divorced was a lot like being a widow, and I had no clue how wrong I was.

Let me start off by saying he was a nice guy. We tried dating for several months, and there were never any negative feelings between us. I have nothing but the greatest respect for him and his family… I just didn’t understand where he was coming from… and he couldn’t seem to explain it.

We had a good time when we were together, and we went out every few weeks. However, there were so many things in the relationship that I just couldn’t understand. For example, on our second date, we went to a popular restaurant in town. I remember sitting down, ordering drinks, and looking at the menus. Suddenly, he had this panicked look on his face. I asked what was wrong, and he just said we needed to leave. Next thing I knew, he put some money on the table for the drinks, took my hand, and led me out a side door. Once outside, he let go of my hand, made a few comments about seeing some of the people he and his late wife used to hang out with, and how he didn’t feel comfortable. After that night, most (not all) of our dates were either on his boat or out of town.

A few months later, he casually mentioned taking me to a BBQ at a friend’s house on the upcoming Saturday. Saturday came and went, but I never heard a thing. A few days later, he called and (just as casually) explained that he had been too busy helping with the BBQ to come get me.

Yes… I am well aware of how this all looks and sounds. As my friend told me at the time, “he’s just not that into you,” which was true… and that was okay… But there was more to it than that.

First, there were very few people who knew we were dating – one of my best friends (who knew everything that went on in our little town), my kids (who did all the babysitting), his housekeeper, and his kids (who were more than eager to talk about our relationship at school). In all honesty, the privacy issue wasn’t just on him… I was nervous about people finding out I was dating, too. I wasn’t interested in being the center of any small-town gossip, so I wasn’t making any big announcements about it either.

I probably should have had a clearer idea of where he was coming from, but I didn’t. After all, throughout his home were reminders of his late wife – not just pictures. I am referring to mementos – special reminders… The same type of things I have all over my own home to remind me of Bruce.

Plus, we had a lot of conversations about his late wife… There were times when he would try to tell me how it felt and how losing her had torn him apart… How his faith didn’t feel adequate anymore, but he still pushed forward because of his boys. I know he was trying to help me understand where he was coming from… But I just didn’t get it. Honestly, I don’t know that anyone can until they have been there.

Instead, from where I stood, it felt like he was embarrassed to be seen with me… Maybe I just wasn’t “good enough.” Of course, now I know that was my own insecurities speaking… My own issues stemming from an abusive marriage, which I had never opened up about to him.

So, why am I telling you all of this today? Because so many times since Bruce died, I have finally understood where this man was coming from…

Through the years, I have listened to people equate being divorced and being a widow(er) or tell me the I should “get back out there.” If you have read anything I wrote back then, you will know these things left me feeling incensed. How dare anyone tell me what I should and shouldn’t do? And no, being divorced is not the same as losing a spouse to death. (I was very angry back then.)

Now, though… Well… Now I feel differently. I guess, life has mellowed me a bit. Now a days, I know people mean well when they say I should date again. Will I? I don’t know… It’s really not a priority for me. I know better than to say “never,” but “not yet” is probably an accurate answer.

If I do, I imagine I will feel like my friend did years ago. I imagine it will be awkward and strange… And the last thing I will want is everyone else watching and giving me their opinions. Now, I totally understand why he behaved the way he did. He just couldn’t explain it in a way I could understand back then.

As far as equating being divorced with losing a spouse to death, I have been through both. Yes, there are some similarities… Both are hard, and both create a deep grief. However, there are also a lot of differences. For me, the biggest difference is in choices.

In a divorce, one person (or both) makes the choice to leave. However, when a spouse dies, there is rarely any choice in the matter. In my first marriage, my ex made his choices, and I had to make mine. When Bruce died, though, neither of us had any choice at all… In a moment, he was just gone.

In a divorce, at least one spouse (if not both) must come to terms with the idea that the other person didn’t (or couldn’t) love enough to make it work… That is a very hard reality. In fact, when I got divorced, that reality was a real struggle for me. For a long time, I was convinced there was no such thing as love… “happily ever after” was a myth.

On the other hand, when your spouse dies, the love is still there. It is not a switch that can simply be flipped off. That love you felt doesn’t just stop because that person is no longer by your side. If a child or a parent dies, no one expects you to stop loving them. So, why can’t the world understand that same idea when it comes to losing a spouse?

I’m not saying you can’t love again. Of course, you can. I have seen it happen many times and it makes me smile every time. I’m just saying it takes a very special person to understand that the love you had before will still continue. Then, somehow, the two of you will need to find a way to embrace all of that love to make it work.

I guess what I am trying to say is for those of you who have not lost a spouse, be patient with those of us who have. Ask questions if you need to, but listen more… We are trying to explain things in the only ways we are able at the time. Remember, this path is new for us too.

On the other hand, if you are a widow(er), be patient with those looking in. Keep in mind, they have no idea what this path is like. I truly believe they are trying… and I will bet you, they mean well.

One last thought… While I am pretty sure he will never see this, I want to say a special “thank you” to my friend from years ago. At the time, I felt like dating you was a “safe” way to re-enter the dating world. So, I not only thank you for that, but for so much more. You see, I had no idea at the time, but I was learning a lot from you… Things I wish I never needed, but I did. From you, I learned a lot about death and grief… about not giving up and surviving when you don’t think you can. I learned it was okay to question my faith and figure it out my way. And most importantly, I learned that wherever life takes me, it’s okay to take my time and do it my way.

This is my story this week, but this is our community… a place to share our experiences. How about you? Can you remember ever being on the outside looking in? Have you been able to remember what that was like as you ago through your current situation? How do you handle it? Would you be willing to share your story or your thoughts… Who knows… your words may hold the answer for someone else. To share your story or thoughts, please go to the comments and leave a note, comment or question.

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