Tag: widow

Peace, Love and Grief… Christmas Your Way

I’m unwrapping all these memories,
fighting back the tears.
It’s just a different kind of Christmas this year.
~ Mark Shultz

Today, I just want to share a little bit of what I have learned through the years. It is not a lecture, nor is it the only way to do any of this. It is merely, what I have found works for me. Perhaps, there is someone else out there trying to figure out this “holiday thing,” and if this can help even one person, then it is worth being said…

To start, let me say that the sentiment above seems true every year… Every year, I get a little better at participating in the season… And last year, I was finally able to actually start loving it again. Yet, I still have my moments of feeling overwhelmed with heartache, especially when something triggers a memory of Christmases past with Bruce… and all the love that filled the season when we were together.

As I have said before, that first year I couldn’t even manage to be anywhere near anything Christmas. I ran away, I guess you would say. I spent the week on a yacht in the Keys – ignoring the holiday… and the world.
The next year, I found myself spending the holiday in my and Bruce’s favorite vacation spot on the Alabama coast. I wasn’t alone. I had a few family members around me. I even managed to participate a little bit, but it was still a hard struggle. Thankfully, there was a beach, where I could go for long walks (and cry without bothering anyone else).

Each year since, has found me participating a little bit more. Even so, for many years it has been a lot of smiling on the outside and trying to enjoy all that is “Christmas,” while crying on the inside for all I am missing. Then last year, I finally reached the point of truly enjoying the holiday. I found myself smiling on the outside and the inside… Perhaps it was the fight to live last year, but 2018 definitely found me feeling hopeful once again… and that was where I found my Christmas spirit.

However, it hasn’t been an easy ride. Even now, I still have to keep my emotions in check. Otherwise, it would be very easy to fall back down that rabbit hole of sadness, where there seems to be no hope at all.

This is where it gets a little technical, I suppose. I tend to be a list person. In fact, when Bruce died, I spent a lot of time in the beginning researching how to deal with grief… How to get past it. What did I need to do to get past all the hurt in my heart? It seemed simple enough… I just needed a list of things to do, so I could feel better and move on.

I soon learned it wasn’t that simple though. Life rarely is…

However, through the years, I have learned to do a few things to make the holidays something I could survive, … and even now enjoy. And while things have been better these last two years, I still follow these tips… So, maybe, someone else can use a few of these this week, as well.

1. It’s okay to say no… Really… It is. This is still your life and doing Christmas without your loved one by your side is hard. You won’t be any good to anyone else if you don’t take care of you. So have a little bit of what I call, sacred selfishness, and only do the things you can. If you are feeling too sad to go to a party, even if it is the last moment, it is okay to not go. During this time, give yourself permission to say, “no.”

(Remember, that first year I said no to everything, and look where I am now.) Don’t feel guilty… Grief is real… Your pain is real. It’s not only okay to take care of yourself, it’s actually better for everyone in the long run. You can’t do or be everything for everyone else. Trust me… they will be okay.

2. It’s okay to change your mind or leave at the last minute. In fact, think ahead and have a “just in case” plan in mind… In other words, have an exit strategy planned, because you never know when a grief wave will hit. It is much better to have a plan in your pocket, then to run away blindly, creating drama in your wake. This season can be overwhelming, and it is easy to over-commit. Even that reasoning can be understood by others, if you aren’t comfortable talking about your sadness.

I can’t tell you how many times I have done exactly this… In the moment, I have accepted an invitation to something. However, when the time came to go, my head-space wasn’t there… I couldn’t do it. I knew it would not be good for anyone… So, I made my apologies and bowed out. Of course, this also means, not committing to hosting anything either. That is something I still don’t do… I still need to feel like I can leave or not go at all, if that is what I need to do.

3. It’s okay to feel what you feel… and try to surround yourself with people who support that, as well. In other words, if something makes you sad, let yourself cry. Or, if something makes you happy, don’t feel guilty for that. In fact, let yourself enjoy every little thing you possibly can… We all know the holidays can be especially hard, and joyful moments can be rare. Of course, the people around you can often make or break this one. There are those who will be supportive and there are those who will try to talk you out of your feelings. The thing is… You can never work through a feeling, if you aren’t allowed to feel it in the first place. So, be good to yourself, and seek out those people who will be understanding – allowing you to feel and work your way through your feelings.

I think that first year, I ran away because I didn’t trust myself with my feelings, much less anyone else. However, through time, I have learned just how blessed I actually am. I have many people, family and friends, who are quite supportive, especially during the holidays. I hear a lot of “Do you feel up to this? It’s okay if you don’t.” Or just lots of extra hugs and patience, as they let me work my way through this season and my own feelings. These are the people I keep close to my heart… These are the people I know I can count on no matter what I am feeling.

4. It’s okay to include your loved in new ways… There are many ways to honor your loved throughout the holidays. (This is one area you can research and find endless answers.) For me, this has been a great way to bridge my feelings with the holidays. For example, the first year I decided to decorate again, I opened the first box and found Bruce’s stocking right on top. At first, I struggled with what to do with it. I finally decided to hang it up, which I continue to do each year. Next to it, I place a small box of paper and a pen. Whenever anyone remembers a story about Bruce, we write it on the paper and place it in the stocking. Those papers are left in the stocking and each year it gets fatter and fatter. Now each year when I pull it out, it is a great reminder of all the precious moments and love Bruce shared with all of us.

I also include him in the meal with a short candle-lighting ceremony. I didn’t come up with it, and I can’t remember where I found it originally. However, here it is…

I set up his picture with six candles around it. Before we say our blessing, we light the candles and remember him. Just so you know, most of the time someone else does the reading, because this is where I tend to get choked up with emotion. (Remember – do what you can, feel what you feel, and have supportive people around you.)

“Today, we light six candles in honor of you:
1. This candle represents our grief. The pain of losing you is intense. It is a reminder of the depth of our love for you.
2. This candle represents our courage – to confront our sorrow, to comfort each other, and to change our lives.
3. This candle is in your memory – the times we laughed, the times we cried, the times we were angry with each other, the silly things you did, and the caring and joy you gave us.
4. This candle is the light of love. Day by day, we cherish the special place in our hearts that will always be reserved for you. Thank you for the gift your life brought to each of us.
5. This candle is the light of hope. It reminds us of love and memories of you that are ours forever.
6. This candle is the light of eternity – for the day when we will see you again in all God’s glory. We will be together again. We will have healthy, whole bodies and can explore the wonders of heaven together.
May the light of the Lord be our source of hopefulness now and forever. Amen.”

When Bruce died, I felt lost… abandoned… completely hopeless. I didn’t really care what the next day held, because no matter what a day might hold, it would be without Bruce. The holidays made that especially hard. But as time has passed, I have learned to feel hope again… I have learned to appreciate the brevity of life and the preciousness of each moment we have together. That is what makes the holidays hard at times… There is the struggle between missing what was and appreciating what is.

Today I have shared what I have learned so far on this journey… That doesn’t make me an expert. Shoot, in a few more years, I hope I will have learned a little more. So, if you are reading this, and you are new to loss, or still trying to figure out how to move forward without your loved one, please know that you are in my prayers. And my prayer for you is that you can find that hope again… The hope that life is worth our time and our curiosity. The hope that each day will hold something so precious in store that we wouldn’t want to miss it.

So, on this Sunday before Christmas, I pray that you will have a Christmas season filled with joy and laughter… and especially hope. Because those are the things that make life all it is meant to be.

There are no rules for surviving holiday grief.
Do what you need to survive.
Honor your loved one how you need to,
And do what feels best for your fragile, aching heart.
You are missing a huge piece of you.
So do whatever you need to do to find a sliver of peace.
~ Angela Miller

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sf6_JBLTNAM

What about you? Does any of this strike a chord with you? How does this season effect you? Are you able to celebrate? Or are you still struggling just to hang on and get to the other side of this season? Maybe you have found a different way to cope… There is no one right answer. Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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

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Peace, Love and Grief… Makin’ It Through the Holidays

“I miss you” … I think this has been my mantra for the past couple of weeks. Don’t misunderstand – I have smiled and laughed. I have enjoyed my time with my kids. I have loved cooking and decorating and shopping and playing Christmas music… I have loved all of it… But… I miss him…

With every dish I cook, I think about whether or not it was one he liked, and how many times we debated whether or not the sweet potato casserole with brown sugar and pecans on top counted as a vegetable (me) or a dessert (him). We never agreed but laughed every time!

With every ornament, I am reminded of our first Christmas together when he pulled out his one box of decorations… and I pulled out 18 boxes. Our tiny little condo was over-stuffed with Christmas. I thought he wouldn’t like it, but instead he grinned from ear to ear and said it truly felt like Christmas for the first time in a very long time.

With every shopping trip, I find myself looking for him and thinking about the gifts we gave each other over the years. There were years when we gave each other “traveling adventures” to new places… And other years when we were content to just have the gift of being together.

And… With every Christmas song played… I either laugh and sing because he loved the music as much as I did (or he pretended to) … or I cry, because each song seems to remind me of him and of some precious memory together.

And to be honest… all of this reminds me that another year has passed… He is still gone… And once again, I am spending another Christmas without him…

So, what do I do? … Well, for the last few days, I have cried… a lot. I seem to wake up crying. Then, I cry in the shower. I cry as I drive to and from work. And I cry when I crawl into bed at night.

I know it seems ridiculous… Emotionally, I have really come so far (or so I thought). But everywhere I look, I see and experience things that I want to share with Bruce… But he isn’t here… And so, I am reminded over and over again that he is gone… and I am alone.

To add to all this, there have been several conversations around me lately that have caught me a little off guard. There was one conversation amongst my friends, where they were discussing what they would do if their spouse died. Would they remarry? Would they date? How would they live their lives? Each of them with a firm opinion.

Now, first of all, this conversation was not about me in any way. It started as a conversation about someone else’s loss. But they went on and on for (what felt like) quite a while, talking about what they would do… or not do. I listened but didn’t add anything.

What could I say? None of them knew me when I was married to Bruce so many years ago, and they were completely oblivious to the fact that I had (and was still) dealing with this exact scenario.

Truthfully, I wasn’t offended, and I did contemplate saying something… I wanted to tell them that no one has any idea how they will respond to the loss of a spouse until it actually happens to them. However, I didn’t… for a few reasons.

First, it would have fallen on deaf ears. After all, most of us are pretty sure we know how we would respond to someone else’s circumstances. It is normal, and as many times as we learn the lesson that this is wrong, we all still seem to do it.

Second, it would have created a very awkward, sudden stop to the conversation. I experienced a lot of this during the first few years after Bruce died. I couldn’t seem to control my mouth and would throw my two cents worth into these conversations. I’ll just say that I found it does some damage… It creates a wall, and just isn’t worth it, not in my book anyway….

And finally… Who am I to judge or correct? After all, before Bruce died, I thought many of the same things they were saying.

So, I sat and half-listened… I felt a little bit rude, but I couldn’t fully engage, because I was struggling to control my emotions… They wanted to say what they thought, and I needed to control what I knew.

There have been several of these types of conversations lately, and I could go on and on explaining each one. But why? They all carry a similar theme – people contemplating how they would live their life as a widow(er) – a topic which they really know nothing about… So, what do I do?

Well there are two sides to this… One is the quick – let it go… Which I have learned to do a lot of over the years. After all, contemplating what you would do in a situation you have never encountered is just human nature. What do I know? I only know what I have done, not what anyone else might do.

“Learn to be okay with people not knowing your side of the story.
You have nothing to prove to anyone.”
~ Unknown

And the other part of the answer came this week in the form of a 10-year-old boy – my grandson…

As we were driving home earlier this week, he was telling me about his day at school and all the 4th grade “news of the day.” At one point, it dawned on me… He had originally said it was a great day, but in his tales, he was really focusing on a lot of negatives.

At one point, he even said, “Do you know what really bugs me? It’s when someone…” And he went on in great detail about what bugs him.

“Did that happen to you today?” I asked. “Did someone do that to you?”

“No,” he said, “but I hate it when it does happen.”

“Well, baby,” I said, “It sounds like you are looking for things to be upset about. Everything you have shared is negative… It sounds like you are focusing on the wrong things.”

Then it dawned on me… So am I… For the past few weeks, consciously or not, I have been focusing on all sad things – all the things I am doing without Bruce.

Last year, I was so happy to be alive… I missed Bruce, but I was so happy to be with my family and to be healthy again, that was my focus. But this year I have somehow fallen into the old trap of focusing on what is missing and what was… not on all the blessing and what is. While I would like to deny it, I have looked for things to be offended about in conversations, rather than chalking it up to human nature and not knowing any better… and then letting it go.

Now what? well… I am resolved to take my own advice. My goal is to look for the blessings and to see the joy in each day… Yes, Bruce is gone, and it’s okay to grieve that. But I am still here… surrounded by family and friends who love me… Maybe it’s a good thing that they just see me as me (not as the perpetual widow), and they love me and support me just for being me…
I am blessed beyond words, and this is a season of joy… and that is to be my focus going forward this season.

What about you? Does any of this strike a chord with you? How do you handle the holidays? Do you find memories around every corner? Do you struggle to focus on the positives around you, too? Maybe you have found a different way to cope… There is no one right answer. Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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

* Be advised that all comments are subject to approval prior to posting. Any comments determined to be spam or not in accordance with the mission of this website/blog will not be approved or posted. Furthermore, any comments determined to be hostile in nature will be reported to the proper authorities. Thank you.

Peace, Love and Grief… Time to Be Grate

“Gratitude isn’t a natural response to adversity;
It’s a discipline you develop.”
~ Unknown

Thanksgiving has always been a “family” holiday in my mind. Our family has always come together to celebrate… For us, the day is centered on great conversations, playful banter, sharing stories, laughter and love. Growing up, my family always spent the day at one of my grandparents’ homes. I loved playing with my cousins and listening to the grown-ups talk into the late hours of the night.

My first husband was military, and we lived too far away from either of our families to celebrate the day with them. So, the day was spent with friends and strangers who would have otherwise spent the day alone. Everyone pitched in and the day was spent sharing what we had… food, stories and friendships.

When Bruce and I were first married, we were living in Michigan, so we usually spent the day with his family… until we moved to Florida, that is. However, even then, we seemed to always have someone in the family with us for Thanksgiving… even if only for a few hours.

But when Bruce died everything changed…

That first Thanksgiving came ten months after Bruce passed away. At that point, I’m not sure if I was just still too numb or if the pain was still too raw… Or a combination of both. I do, however, remember I couldn’t bring myself to celebrate anything. Life had thrown me a curve ball, and I didn’t feel thankful about anything. I was still hurting too much, and the idea of celebrating a “family” holiday, when the person I loved was gone… well… that was more than I could handle.

So instead, I ignored the holiday, and spent the day at a theme park with my youngest daughter and her friend. At this point, memories of that day have faded into a blur. However, I know it created the distraction I needed, while still allowing me to spend time with someone I love.

The next year, I decided it was time to join the rest of the world and celebrate… It was time to try and say “Thank you” again. I was still hurting, but I wanted to spend time with family and loved ones, so I spent a very quiet holiday with one of my daughters and her family. It was a wonderfully, simple holiday – a very good way to ease back into the idea of celebrating without Bruce. A good portion of the day was spent just breathing, and no one pushed me to do more than I felt ready to handle. There were smiles and laughter, and with love and support, I did it… In fact, by the end of the day I knew exactly what I was thankful for – the love of my family.

The third year, I got a little bit braver again… This was the year I traveled to merry old England to spend the holiday with my oldest daughter and her husband. A first it seemed so odd to celebrate Thanksgiving in a country that does not share this holiday.

We had a lovely time shopping for a “bird” and “American” ingredients which were nearly impossible to find. Yet, everyone else seemed eager to pitch in… They were so curious and more than happy to help us find all the “traditional foods” we needed for our feast. The day itself couldn’t have been better! It was beautiful… another quiet celebration filled with love and laughter… and a few tears… But once again, I was reminded of what I have to be grateful for… the people I love.

The next year was different again. My daughter and grandson had moved in with me just a few months earlier, and he was spending Thanksgiving with his father in another state. It felt strange and wrong… There was definite grieving for a family (and a tradition) gone. It was my daughter’s first holiday without her little Bubba, and for reasons I completely understood, we chose to spend the holiday traveling rather than celebrating with the traditional family feast.

The day was quiet, the beach was soothing, and the company was loving… That year, once again, it was a holiday to be “survived” rather than “enjoyed.” I missed Bruce, and we both missed having our little Bubba to make us smile and give us hugs. I’m not sure how, but we made it through… So grateful to be a family again at the end of the weekend.

In the years following, I have not only gotten braver, I am genuinely grateful for the many blessings in my life. Our family has gone back to old traditions with an old fashioned, “everyone’s coming” Thanksgiving. My daughter and I spend days cooking and cleaning in preparation. We make all the traditional foods my children grew up eating. Then, we throw in a few games for laughter and entertainment.

I have to be honest, though, this time of year is still hard… Why? Because this is the time of year where the focus is on family. And while I have a wonderful family, for me there will always be someone missing… Bruce. It breaks my heart all over again every time I think about it. Then add in the part about being grateful, and the struggle gets just a little bit harder.

For years when I read the verse, from 1 Thessalonians, “Be thankful in all circumstances,” I couldn’t understand it. How in the world could I be thankful for this? Why would God ask this from me? I couldn’t understand… And I couldn’t do it.

This year, though, I realized my mistake… It doesn’t say “for all circumstances.” It says “in all circumstances.” In other words, I’m not expected to be thankful for the loss of Bruce. (God understands and joins me in my pain.) What he is asking of me is to be able to find things I am grateful for, even IN my grief… And I have found that I can do that just fine.

So this month I have been making time each day to be grateful… making time to look around at all the things I take for granted and truly see the many blessings all around me…

First and foremost, I am alive. Despite two bouts with cancer in 18 months, I am still here to enjoy all the other blessings I am surrounded by. Because he lives with me, I get to watch my grandson grow up, not to mention the very special bond we have developed over the past few years. Because most of my family lives within a few hours’ drive, I get to spend a good bit of time with them, especially my kids and my sister. Each morning, I am blessed to watch the sunrise, and each evening, to watch it set. I am able to laugh… and run… and enjoy life moment by moment.

If there is one thing I learned when Bruce died, it was how short and unpredictable life is. Through the years since then, I have learned that many of the things I thought were important before, really aren’t. In the past, I wasted time worrying or being upset about things that either never happened, don’t matter now or aren’t even remembered anymore.

All of this craziness that I call “my life” is a gift I couldn’t appreciate a few years ago. This life is a gift I wasn’t sure I would continue to experience a year ago… But it is my gift, and I have learned that life, love, and living each moment in a state of gratitude is what is important… It is about taking the time to be grateful each and every day.

“Gratitude is an attitude you choose,
Not a reaction to your circumstances.”
~ Unknown

What about you? Does any of this strike a chord with you? How do you handle family holidays? Have you always been able to be grateful or have you struggled with being grateful? Maybe you have found a different way to cope… There is no one right answer. Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

NOTE: Due to family time, I will be off schedule next week. I will be taking next week off in order to spend the weekend with my family. Thank you for understanding my need to enjoy my precious time with those I love.

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… Celebrating Our Anniversary

This week held our anniversary. Rather than writing something new, I think the best words to describe how I feel are the ones I wrote to Bruce…

Hi Babe!

Happy Anniversary! Fourteen years… Wow! Today marks the date when I have celebrated just as many anniversaries alone as we did together… That feels really strange… I can’t even wrap my head around it.

Yesterday I woke up crying and had to fight the tears all day. Everything seemed to remind me of you, and the idea of celebrating alone… again… was just too much for this heart to bear. Plus, the weather has matched my mood – dark clouds and overcast all day yesterday and rain all night. This morning there has been a lot of dark clouds and drizzle with small breaks of sunshine… just like the way I am feeling – sad and crying, yet, so joyful to have experienced our love and wanting to celebrate that.

I went for a walk on the beach where your ashes were scattered, just to talk to you for a while. (Now, I am just sitting out here writing to you.) Sometimes it feels like you are right here beside me… I would swear I can hear you and almost feel your touch. But then, I look around, and I am all alone. Today, there is absolutely no one else out here… Just you and I. I suppose it is because of the weather, but it’s nice to be just the two of us.

The ocean is so wild today. There are so many waves, and they are crashing in on themselves in a fury… Maybe that is just a little bit of what I am feeling too.

I keep thinking of so many memories of us here on this beach… So many Sundays spent holding hands and watching the waves for hours. There was a magic here for us, that still lingers… I miss that… I miss you!

Sometimes I wonder if this “missing you” will ever stop. I wonder if my life will ever feel whole again. Or if I will always feel like the rudder is missing, and I am just drifting.

I truly can’t believe it’s been fourteen years since we were married. I’ll always remember that day… How nervous we both were to be doing this marriage thing again – something we had both sworn we would never do again. I remember the night before… I was terrified! I kept thinking about my first marriage – all the chaos and abuse… and how I had lost myself somewhere in the struggle to keep peace and just survive. The idea that it could happen again was terrifying!

I remember you holding me close and telling me we didn’t to get married… We could just be together… You told me that you loved me and that was that. We didn’t need a piece of paper or anyone else’s approval for that. Looking back, I think that was all I needed to hear – a reassurance that it was a choice, and you would always love me… either way.

I remember every moment of the next day. Going to the town where you grew up to eat lunch, buying our wedding champagne flutes to toast our big day, setting up for a mini-reception at the condo, getting dressed, going to the courthouse waiting what felt like forever for our turn with the judge, your Dad joking with us and trying to ease our nerves, our families being there to support us, and… the actual ceremony.

I remember holding your hands and looking into your eyes the entire time. (It was as if no one else were even there… Just the two of us in that moment.) You held my gaze and filled my heart with peace knowing this was right… That feeling has never left me.

Marrying you was the best decision I ever made, and I will celebrate this day for the rest of my life!

I love you, Babe – Always and Forever!
Me

What about you? How do you handle those special days of the year? Do you celebrate? Do you cry? Do you have mixed emotions? Or do you still need support in that area? Would you be willing to share your story or your thoughts? Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

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 Hope

I am a reader. I have always been a reader. I will read anything… I simply love to read and always have. I have several family and friends who are also readers, and we are constantly exchanging books and making recommendations. That being said, I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I have read a story about someone choosing to recover from an illness or surgery “by the sea.” In the books, it always sounds so absolutely peaceful – the perfect spot to sit, think and heal… both physically and emotionally.

Maybe that is part of the reason I chose to spend this past week here by the sea, recovering from surgery… The ocean just steps from my door. Starting in my teen years, the ocean has been a place of magical healing for me… I can just sit and stare at it for hours, and all the pain or frustration just seems to melt away. However, until this week, I haven’t “sat by the ocean” for a week just to recover… And, I have to admit, this week has been just as wonderful as the books make it sound.

Even before I felt well enough to venture outside, the view from the couch was amazing! To watch the sunrise over the waves each morning or to watch an afternoon storm roll in always leaves me feeling nothing short of complete awe. As the week progressed, I slowly worked my way to “porch sitting,” and finally, in the last few days I have actually made my way out to the beach.

But that hasn’t been all of it… Being by the ocean, always reminds me of Bruce, as well. After all, we met on a sailing schooner down in the islands. When we were first married and living in Michigan, we spent as much time sailing Lake Michigan as the weather would allow. Then, here in Florida, we were always either out on the boat, on the kayaks or just sitting at the beach enjoying the waves. In other words, from day one, the beach was always “our” place…

We met there. Bruce proposed there. It is there that his ashes were released, and it is where I always go to feel closer to him… and this week has been no different.

Of course, I also have spent a lot of time this week reading. One of the books I read was just a great “beach reading” book… not complicated and definitely a “happily ever after” type book… And, like all good books, there were also a few sub-plots throughout the book. In this particular book, one of the sub-plots was about an older woman who still wrote daily letters to the “love of her life” who had died several years before.

It caught my attention right away, since my journal entries are the same… Just letters to Bruce about what is going on in my life, day by day. They always start with “Dear Babe” and end with “All my love – forever and always.”

In the book, the character talks about how she knows he is dead, but she can’t quite let go. As she puts it, “Your mind resists death with all its might.” ~ Liane Moriaty, What Alice Forgot.

Boy, is that the truth! It is like a part of you always feels as if they will walk back through the door again at any minute… Like they have just been away on a trip and will return any day… It’s so stupid, because you know they won’t… There is just this part of you that seems to be stuck somewhere between “what was”… and “what is”…

This evening, though, as a storm worked its way off-shore, I was enjoying some porch sittin’ as I finished this book. Every now and then, I would put the book down to watch the rain moving away.

Each time, I found myself thinking about Bruce… Sometimes I am worried I will forget what he looked like or how he sounded, but not today. Today was like reliving each moment as it entered my mind… And as I sat there remembering, I smiled, I laughed, I cried… and I wondered, “Will I ever get used to this?” And just as I asked myself that question, I looked out across the waves and saw a beautiful spectrum of color going from the storm cloud down in a perfect arch to meet the ocean… a rainbow! A promise of hope…

I didn’t even know hope was the thing I was looking for… or needed… But it is exactly what brought peace to my heart today.

Everyone travels this path in their own way and in their own time… Grief is hard and the fact we seem to be expected to carry on with our life as if nothing had happened can make it seem even harder. These are only my thoughts and observations about my own path. Maybe you too have had challenges that have brought your grief a little closer to the surface or made it seem a little bit harder than normal.

Learning to navigate this journey tends to show us we are stronger than we thought we were, even when we feel completely vulnerable. If any of this feels familiar, 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. *

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… Comfort in My Heart

I’m not sure if I want to put this all out there or not this week. However, since my goal is to be honest about this journey… here goes…

As you may (or may not) recall, last year held another challenge for me in the form of breast cancer. It started with a diagnosis and surgery in the spring, chemo throughout the summer and radiation in the fall. I had great support from my family and friends throughout the whole experience, but it was still hard doing it without Bruce by my side. So many times, I would think, “Why?… Why do I have to do this without him by my side?” But, of course, there was never an answer… Life just seems to be what it is.

However, there was also a part of me that felt differently…

I’m embarrassed to admit it… It probably sounds quite vain, and it is hard to explain, but after the surgery, there was a part of me that was relieved Bruce wasn’t here. I had tried to prepare myself for what was coming with each step in the process. After all, the goal was to get rid of the cancer, and we did that. But I guess, I wasn’t prepared for how it would look after all was said and done.

I thought that with a lumpectomy, things wouldn’t be that bad… But I was wrong. The first time I looked in a mirror, I was shocked. I had not expected what I saw reflected there… And I cried. In that moment, I was glad Bruce wasn’t here. I’m not saying he would have minded… I’m saying I was horrified… I would have been embarrassed to let him see me like that.

Then, there was the chemo, and I lost my hair… all of my hair – not just the hair on my head. I lost my eyebrows, eyelashes… every bit of it – gone! Again, before it fell out, I thought I would be okay with it. It was just hair, after all. However, the reality left me quite humbled. And, once again, while a huge part of me wished Bruce were by my side, there was also a small part of me which was relieved he never saw me like that.

After the chemo, there was the radiation. By this point, the surgery was starting to heal, and I thought, maybe it will all be okay. However, the radiation has an effect on scar tissue… It made it hard and caused a lot of permanent swelling.

There were so many emotions at that point… I was thankful to my doctors and glad to be alive. I knew my experience had not been all that bad when compared to so many others, especially those who don’t make it through. I was trying to be okay with how my body looked… Yet, again, there was a part of me that wished Bruce were there to tell me he loved me no matter what, and the other part was relieved he never saw me looking like this.

Last year, the doctors told me I would need to wait a year for the healing process to run it’s course. Then, we could look at the options available to “fix” things. So… I waited.

As time passed, I’m not sure if I just got used to it, or if things got better, or a little bit of both. However, when the year was up, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. However, when summer came, and I realized I was uncomfortable wearing certain clothes, I decided to see exactly what my options were.

And that brings me to this week…

On Friday, I had some plastic surgery to fix everything… They released the scar tissue to get rid of the hardness and did some fat grafting to even things back out. So why am I writing about this here?

Because, as I have said, throughout this journey, I have had mixed emotions about wishing Bruce were here with me and being relieved that he wasn’t here to see how I looked. However, when I woke up from my surgery, I knew without a doubt, he has been here all along… by my side… holding my hand.

Because that is what he was doing during my surgery… As I came to, all I could remember was Bruce taking my hand as they wheeled me into surgery. He never said a word… He just stayed beside me holding my hand. When the nurse woke me up, he squeezed my hand and was gone… just like that…

It took everything in me not to cry… I wanted him to come back. I remember the nurse asked if I was okay. “I just feel like crying,” I said, as I remembered holding his hand for the past few hours… Something so real… Something I haven’t done in such a long time… Something that reminded me – I am not alone… I have not been through this journey alone… and he loves me no matter what…

And… even if he can’t be here physically by my side, he still loves me enough to put his comfort in my heart… where I can always find it.

Everyone travels this path in their own way and in their own time… Grief is hard and the fact that life just keeps on coming at you can make it seem even harder. These are only my thoughts and observations about my own path throughout the course of dealing with this thing called cancer. Maybe you too have had challenges that has made your grief seem a little bit harder, as well. Learning to navigate this journey tends to show us we are stronger than we thought we were, even when we feel completely vulnerable. If any of this feels familiar, 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. *

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… Learn to Be Lonely

Learn to Be Lonely
Child of the wilderness
Born into emptiness
Learn to be lonely
Learn to find your way in darkness
Who will be there for you?
Comfort and care for you?
Learn to be lonely
Learn to be your one companion
Never dreamed out in the world
There are arms to hold you
Your heart was on its own
So laugh in your loneliness
Child of the wilderness
Learn to be lonely
Learn how to love life that is lived alone
Learn to be lonely
Life can be lived
Life can be loved
Alone
~Andrew Lloyd Webber, Phantom of the Opera

A few years ago, when I heard this song, it really hit home with me… I can remember my eyes filling with tears, and I thought, “Yes, exactly! That is where I am.” … Learning to live alone… and learning how to love this life despite being alone.

According to the dictionary, the word “lonely” has several definitions. The one that seems to hit home for me since becoming a widow is “Without others of a similar kind.” I believe it seems to validate why I often feel so lonely… because within my family and my closest friends, I am the only widow. There is absolutely no one who can understand exactly what this feels like. So, while I am around the people I love almost all the time, I am the only one that knows what this journey is like… how hard it can be… how lonely it can be…

And (while they may not realize it is still a battle for me), how determined I am to not just live my life, but to love it, too…

That really is the hard part – learning how to love life again…

I love the people I am with – my family and my friends. I love the laughter and adventures we share. I love taking trips together. I love simple debates and intimate conversations… I love all these things and more.

But there are still things I miss… Things which no one around me can replace…

I miss being held and feeling the safety of his arms. I miss looks across the room that convey an entire conversation without a word being spoken. I miss sharing a private joke and dreaming about our future together. I miss caring for and supporting each other. I miss hugs when I’m down or for absolutely no reason at all. I miss extra dishes in the sink and seeing his beer in the frig… I miss the way he wore shorts in the dead of winter and always cooked in his bare feet. I miss being greeted at the door with a glass of wine and dancing in the kitchen. There is so much… And I miss it all!

I am alone.
All alone.
No longer is there someone to listen at the end of the day.
No longer are there arms to hug me or lips to kiss away the hurt.
No longer is there someone to say, “I love you… That’s all we need.”
All that greets me is silence, emptiness and my own thoughts…
I am alone…
All alone…
And it hurts…
~ Linda, September 2013

I know life goes on… That is a reality I have had to accept over the years…

At first, I couldn’t imagine ever smiling again, much less laughing. I couldn’t imagine celebrating anything. I couldn’t imagine a day without tears or a night where I would actually sleep peacefully all night long. In other words, I couldn’t imagine that life could possibly continue and be worth living without Bruce to share it with.

But…

I have learned to smile again. I have learned to have fun and to laugh again. I have learned to find new adventures. I have learned to be content in my own head. I have learned to try new adventures which push me beyond my comfort zone. In other words, I really am learning to live again… Only this time, I am learning how to do it without Bruce being physically by my side… without anyone to tell me how to make this work… without a clue of how to do this…

How? I can’t really say there has been a magic formula… All I know is every day I get back up, say a prayer for strength, put a smile on my face… and try again. In other words, it is an unending process to learn how “to be lonely” and still be okay… (It’s not an easy feat… It is a day by day challenge.)

However, down in my soul, I believe Bruce is watching… and smiling… and saying, “You can do this.”

Everyone deals with grief and the loneliness it creates in their own way and in their own time… These are only my thoughts and observations about this last year as I find myself muddling through life and tackling new challenges (some well beyond my comfort zone). Maybe grief has been that way for you, as well. Learning to navigate this journey tends to show us we are stronger than we thought we were, even when our loneliness leaves us feeling completely vulnerable.

If any of this feels familiar, 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. *

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 Little Compassion Goes a Long Way

If you read my blog a few weeks ago, you may remember me mentioning that one of our cats had died. This weekend, we went to pick up her ashes, and I have to say, they did a beautiful job memorializing her life for us.

First, the package was wrapped up in a beautiful purple tulle bag. Inside was a lovely box which opened like a book. Inside the box, was information about grieving a pet and grief support, an imprint of her paw, cards with her paw and nose prints, and her ashes. We were all so touched by the amount of compassion and empathy that went into this whole process.

For me, though, the minute I saw the package, I was immediately taken back to the day when I picked up Bruce’s ashes… I’m not trying to be rude, but that experience was quite the opposite of this experience…

The funeral home had originally told us it would take about a week to do the cremation and get the ashes back. However, it ended up being more like 2.5 weeks. By this point, all my family had left. Each person had tried to stay for as long as they could, but they had jobs, families and lives to return to… We couldn’t sit around staring at each other and crying forever. While I hated to see them leave, I understood.

My sister was the last one to go… I remember when she left, we both cried. She told me she would come back in a few weeks, (which she did). She was also quite adamant that I should get someone to go with me when Bruce’s ashes were ready for me to pick up… I was not to go alone.

However, when the funeral home finally called, a day or two later, there was no one to go with me, and I just wanted – no, I needed – to get them. I couldn’t wait any longer. I can’t explain it, but I was too anxious to wait another day. Bruce needed to come home. So, I went… alone.

Because I was still very numb and raw, (still in shock, I believe), I had not driven up to this point. However, the funeral home was only a few blocks away, so I didn’t give it a second thought… I just went.

Now, I can’t tell you the business role of the woman who met me when I arrived. However, I can say her people skills were quite lacking. Here I was in her office – a brand new widow, eyes swollen from weeks of tears – picking up my late husband’s ashes. Yet, she was completely oblivious… All she could do was complain about her health.

Don’t get me wrong, normally I would be empathetic about another person’s health issues, but in this situation and at this time, it was not my job to nurture her… No, I’m sorry, but in this moment, it was her job to nurture me. I don’t mean for that to sound self, but shouldn’t that be basic customer service in a funeral home? Was I expecting too much?

Frustrated as I was, I didn’t say anything… I just stared at her as she ranted on and on. Finally, she asked me for Bruce’s name. Then, she reached into a cabinet and held out three small containers to me.

“Here you go,” she said.
“Those aren’t Bruce’s,” I replied.
“Yes, they are,” she argued.

For the next few minutes, we went back and forth – me trying to explain that his remains should be in one container with a sunset on it, not three small Asian style containers. On the other hand, she kept trying to convince me that “in my grief,” I probably couldn’t remember what I had ordered. It was absolutely infuriating.

Finally, she went to the desk to look up the records. When she turned back to me, it was obvious she wasn’t happy about what she found. There was no apology, though, as she returned to the cabinet and found Bruce’s ashes. All she said as she handed the container to me was, “They both came in today.”

But that wasn’t the worse part…

As I watched in disbelief, she pulled out a plastic bag, like the kind you get at the grocery store. The bag was white and emblazoned in red on one side was the name, address and phone number of the funeral home… It was nothing more than a huge ad for the business! And while I watched in horror, she dropped the container unceremoniously into this bag. Then, she handed the bag to me, and returned to her desk without another word…

I was so incredibly floored! How do you even respond to that? I mean, it’s not like I had ever done this before… maybe this was normal? Maybe my expectations were too high?

So, I just walked out the door and to my car. Once inside my car, I fell apart…

Here I was – holding what remained of my husband… The same man, who just a few weeks before had held me in his arms. How could this small container hold what remained of Bruce? It weighed no more than a bag of flour! How could this be him? He had been six feet tall… He had been a muscular man… a weightlifter. He had been a vibrant man – full of life… and love. Surely, there was something wrong… This could not be him!

But, it was… This was my Bruce. I held him in my lap, tears streaming down my face, as I drove home.

Once I got home, I placed his ashes on the dresser and lit candles all around it… Still in shock… Still in unbelief… And for the next 24 hours, I sat vigil with his ashes… I talked to him, I cried for him, and I prayed for both of us… How was I going to do this? How was I going to keep going without him? So many questions… so much anxiety… so much grief… and no answers.

However, life doesn’t stop. So, a few months later, on his birthday, our families gathered one more time to say our goodbyes and scatter his ashes in the ocean. While it was sad and my heart was torn apart, it was a beautiful memorial… Everything about it “felt like Bruce.”

Time has passed, and through the years, I haven’t put too much thought into that day at the funeral home… until today, when we picked up Duffy’s ashes. The contrast of how they treated Duffy’s remains and us, as her family, when compared to that day in the funeral home is like night is to day. I truly expected something like what I had experienced before – a lack of compassion and understanding for what we were feeling – just a business transaction – nothing more.

However, that was not our experience this time. This weekend’s experience was beautiful… It felt kind… It felt compassionate, and it offered a step toward healing and closure.

As we left, we were so thankful for the fact that stranger was able to understand the grief of losing a pet. I just wish, that lady years ago could have understood the same… I wish she could have known how far a little bit of kindness can go, to help someone who is hurting so deeply…

I don’t know if any of this rings a bell for anyone. I truly hope no one else has had a similar experience. If you have, I am so very sorry. Either way, even the experience of finding a funeral home and handling the remains and the funeral or memorial can be hard. At least, I know it felt overwhelming for me… Did you do it on your own, or did you have someone to guide you through it? Would you be willing to share your story with us, please? This path can be a hard and lonely one, but none of us needs to do it alone. We are all here for each other. We all have stories to share. Because this is our community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

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

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

* Be advised that all comments are subject to approval prior to posting. Any comments determined to be spam or not in accordance with the mission of this website/blog will not be approved or posted. Furthermore, any comments determined to be hostile in nature will be reported to the proper authorities. Thank you.

Peace, Love and Grief… Even the Bad Times Weren’t So Bad

This week at our house has been just a little harder than usual…

Do you know what I mean? Do you ever have those weeks when life just seems to keep coming at you? You keep getting back up. You keep putting that smile on your face and that “can do” attitude in your heart, but life just seems relentless. There just seems to be no end to the craziness and all that needs to be done.

It’s no one’s fault, and no one is driving me crazy. It’s just life…

My daughter has been severely ill for more than a week. In order to help her out, I have been trying to cover all of her normal stuff, plus my own. (Thankfully, as I write this, she is doing much better.) Maybe you understand when I say that a few years ago known of this would have phased me. In fact, it wouldn’t have even slowed me down very much. But now-a-days, it’s a different story… I guess I’m just getting older, (and more tired). LOL!

No matter! It’s all good… And all of this got me thinking about some very precious memories…

I remember about a year after we were married, I got the flu. It was a nasty bug, and the first time either of us had been sick since we had met. Now, everyone has their own was of handling being sick, and I think we were both a little wary of how this might play out.

For example, if someone else is sick, I want to take care of them. Okay, maybe it is a little over the top… “Mothering” them, might be a better term for it. But, when I am sick, other than checking on me occasionally, I prefer to be left alone. God forbid, I am so sick I need to actually ask for anything – That is the worst… The idea of someone having to dote on me feels awkward and extremely uncomfortable.

In most ways, Bruce was similar… When he was sick, he just wanted to be left alone. Don’t dote on him and don’t “mother” him… He preferred to just muddle through whatever it was while the world went about its business. And when it came to taking care of others, he would hover in the background… only offering help when it was requested.

You can only imagine how this worked in our house… When he was sick, I tried really hard to leave him alone, but I am pretty sure I still drove him nuts. Whereas when I was sick, he didn’t mind helping, but he was very good at giving me my space to recover in my own way.

That first time with the flu is a bit of a blur for me. I had just started a new job and could not miss work unless I also wanted to lose my job. I remember going to work (fever and all) the first few days. He made no comment. He simply hugged me close, kissed my forehead and handed me a bag of meds to get me through the next 8 hours.

By the time the weekend came, all I wanted to do was sleep… And sleep, I did…

Bruce had the best couch for lounging and sleeping. (My youngest daughter owns it now, and I still love to sleep on it when I visit.) So that couch was where I camped out for the duration. My memories of that weekend are few, but believe it or not, they make me smile…

I know I slept most of the next few days, waking up to eat small bites of vanilla ice cream, nibbles of saltine crackers and sips of ginger ale. The best memories, however, were those times when I opened my eyes, and Bruce was in the recliner next to me quietly strumming his guitar. He would look over at me, smile, and ask how I was feeling. It was so beautiful and so relaxing, usually I would just smile and go right back to sleep – lulled by the soft chords he was playing.

The funny thing is I never felt like I was being a bother. I never felt like he was being intrusive. Yet, I always felt cared for… Later, I learned just how worried he really was… As it turns out, he never left my side all weekend… He sat right there beside me, but I was too sick to know.

So many times this week, I have thought about that week so long ago… Most of it lost to a blur of fever-induced sleep. Yet, those small pieces of memories I do have bring a warm feeling of being completely loved and cared for…

I know it sounds weird to say that these are some of my most precious memories… But they are, because of all the love I felt during that stretch of time. And it’s probably even more strange, but all I keep thinking about this week is how when Bruce and I were together, even the bad times weren’t so bad.

How about you? Do you remember any bad times that only proved to strengthen your love? Do you understand what I mean? Would you be willing to share with us, please? Would you tell us your story? This path can be a hard and lonely one, but none of us need to do it alone. We are all here for each other. We all have stories to share. Because this is our community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.* Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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

* Be advised that all comments are subject to approval prior to posting. Any comments determined to be spam or not in accordance with the mission of this website/blog will not be approved or posted. Furthermore, any comments determined to be hostile in nature will be reported to the proper authorities. Thank you.

Peace, Love and Grief… The Hardest Time of Day

I am alone… all alone.
No longer is there someone to listen at the end of a bad day.
No longer are there arms to hug me;
Or lips to kiss away the hurt.
No longer is there someone to say,
“I love you, and that’s all we need.”
All that greets me is silence,
Emptiness,
And my own thoughts.
~ Linda, September 2013

Here is the question, “What is the hardest time of day for you?” I was doing some reading about grief this week, when that question came up. As I sat and pondered it for a while, I realized that the answer has been an ever changing one for me.

When Bruce first died, any time I was awake was hard. Sleep was the only thing that gave me any relief from the pain of losing him. I was so numb and in shock that I didn’t quite know what to do with myself. Sometimes, I would just sit and stare at the walls for hours, while other times I would find myself wandering through our house looking for… what? I can’t tell you. He wasn’t there… I knew he wasn’t there. I was alone… I was all alone.

After a few weeks, I returned to work. I needed life to return to some kind normalcy. I also knew if I stayed home alone any longer, I might never be able to pull myself out of the dark hole I found myself in. It was at that point that the evenings became the hardest time of day for me.

Because Bruce had never been to my office. He had never been inside that space… Nor was he involved in that part of my day. So, that space felt somewhat normal. Since he had never been there, there was no expectation that I would miss him there. (I hope that makes since.)

However, the minute I turned the corner onto our street, I would see his SUV still parked in the driveway. My heart would leap a little, as I immediately thought, “Bruce is home!” Then, just as quickly, I would remember… And my heart would fall to pieces.

By the time I walked inside, the tears were streaming down my face. So many times, I would walk inside, collapse in the middle of the living room floor, and just cry… Where was he?! Why?? Why did this have to be? I couldn’t comprehend it. It was awful… And it was day after day.

Without you, this house is so quiet it is deafening.
Even the thoughts in my own head can’t drown out the quiet.
It is always here – waiting to swallow my sanity.
~ Linda, November 2013

But, as we know, life is ever changing… Like the waves on the beach, nothing stays the same. As for my life, it changed again a few years ago when my daughter and grandson moved in. No more deafening quiet… No more lonely evenings… Instead, once again, this house was full of noise and laughter and love. It was great! It changed everything about my world. It probably sounds crazy, but for the first time in a long time, I felt like I had a purpose again. It was absolutely refreshing!

Does that mean I know longer have “hard times?” Of course not! It just isn’t the central focus of every moment. My heart is still broken, and I still miss Bruce. However, my hardest time of the day now seems to be that time when I turn out the lights at the end of the day. There is something about lying there in the dark – alone. That is the time my mind turns to him. That is the time I will quietly talk to him… Wishing he were still here to listen… and answer… Wishing he could still hold me tight as we fall asleep… In other words, I find myself wishing for those things I know will never be.

Sometimes I wonder if I will ever stop grieving completely… I doubt it. When Bruce left, there was a huge hole left in my soul. I have worked hard over the years to patch it up… I have made a conscious (daily) effort at healing. Yet, deep down, I still miss him. And I believe that as long as I have moments alone, I will always have a “hardest part of my day.”

I wake up,
And I reach for you,
But you aren’t there.
I long to feel your warm body
Next to mine.
In my sleep, I try to snuggle closer,
But there is only empty space.
Each time, I am pulled out of my dreams.
Then, I am awake
With nothing but the realization
That you are gone.
How long will is this going to go on?
Will my soul
Ever be content to sleep alone?
Will my heart
Always reach out for you in the dark?
… Probably.
~ Linda, July 2018

How about you? What is your hardest time of the day? Or what are your triggers? Would you be willing to share with us, please? Would you tell us your story? This path can be a hard and lonely one, but none of us need to do it alone. We are all here for each other. We all have stories to share. Because this is our community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.* Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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

* Be advised that all comments are subject to approval prior to posting. Any comments determined to be spam or not in accordance with the mission of this website/blog will not be approved or posted. Furthermore, any comments determined to be hostile in nature will be reported to the proper authorities. Thank you.