Peace, Love & Grief – Page 25 – There is a peace that comes with acceptance, and a love that is always remembered

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

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Peace, Love and Grief… Walking the Path

It has been over six years since Bruce died… “They” say it gets easier with time. Maybe that is true for some people… Or maybe it just hasn’t been enough time for me. Who knows? I know everybody’s path is different, so I am guessing the “time” part is different too.

There is a certain thing, though, that I am guessing happens to more people than just myself… After a certain amount of time, even if you are still hurting, you simply get better at keeping those emotions to yourself. I know for me, I have gotten better at smiling, even on the rough days… Just because I am smiling doesn’t mean those feelings aren’t there. In fact, those feelings seem to always be there – somewhere just below the surface… waiting for any small reminder of what once was. Sometimes it is a song… Other times it might be a mannerism in a stranger or passing a car or truck like the one he used to drive.

In other words, it can be anything, and it usually catches me unaware…

The next thing I know, I am struggling to control those emotions while still maintaining whatever demeanor and conversation happens to be going on. Like anything else in life, sometimes it’s more manageable than other times. However, if I am honest, there are times when I am just plain tired of smiling through the hurt and pretending to be okay… Pretending that it doesn’t really hurt any more when, in fact, I am still dying on the inside.

Do you know what I mean? Have you ever gotten tired of pretending that all is fine? Maybe it’s just me, but somehow, I doubt it.

This week I was trying to figure out why I do that… After the third time in one day of smiling instead of giving in to the tears, I thought, “Why not just say, ‘Hey, give me a minute here, please?’” Then, as God provides, (through my Face Book feed this time), I read an article that seemed to hit the nail on the head…

Here’s the thing, our grief is unique to who we are and our unique relationship with the person we loved and lost. Even if two people are grieving the same person, our relationships are different. Therefore, our grief is different. So, no matter how much another person might want to completely understand, they can only support us up to a point. After that it is up to us to walk the journey… alone, because it is our grief and our pain that we must work through.

I think that is why I choose to keep it close to my heart, hidden deep inside…

The people around me love me… I know they love me… I do not doubt that for a moment. I also know that when I am in pain, it creates pain for them. After all, when someone we love is hurting, we hurt too… That is part of loving someone. These people around me, because they love me, have seen me through the parts of this path that are accessible to them. They have stood beside me and held me in my darkest moments.

However, at this point – after so many years – there really isn’t much they can do to help me as much as they may want to. Now, it really is up to me to work through the hurt that is unique to my grief for Bruce. There are still moments of grief we can share, such as on holidays and special occasions. However, for those day to day moments that create a catch in my throat, there is no need to bring it up since those particular situations are based on my relationship with Bruce and those intimate moments and memories that belong only to us.

So, while there may be times when I am tired of pretending, I am also so thankful for the people around me who keep me smiling… Those people who don’t judge me or make a big deal when I suddenly get momentarily quiet before rejoining the conversation and laughter.

So, maybe I’m not as good at hiding it as I think… Maybe those I love do notice those moments of pain as they flash across my face. However, rather than calling attention to it, they respect my path enough to let me work it out for myself… As I sit here and think about it, maybe we are all just getting better at walking this path in our own way… and in our own timing.

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

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

I did not choose this journey.
I do not even like this journey.
But I would rather choose my path now
Than to try to find my way later
Because I gave up what little choice was mine
And became lost.

It is okay to stop and rest
Or cry when I am weary
As long as I do not lose track of where I am.

It is okay to peer behind me
To see where I was
As long as I remember to look forward as I move on.

It is even okay to look at what is ahead
As long as I am doing so as preparation,
While I remain focused on where I am.

Death has changed everything
And I must learn how to adjust.
Time changes nothing…
On its own – that is my job now.

This is a journey –
And it is mine –
I must own it to survive it.
~ Linda, September 2013

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 my own path. 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

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

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

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Changes

Note: First, I need to apologize for missing last week. I am afraid we spent the weekend preparing for Hurricane Dorian. Thankfully, God is good and blessed our little coastal town with barely a scratch.

I can’t remember the exact quote, and can’t seem to find it, but there is a phrase that says, “After a loss, time is divided in two – the time before and the time after.” Now, six years since Bruce died, I can tell you that is still the dividing line in my head.

I’m not sure why that is true. I just know that being a widow has changed me… It has changed how I view the world, and how I do things.

Surely, I’m not the only one. So let’s talk about the before and after…

I would say that before Bruce died, I was a very trusting person. Bruce used to tell me I should be more cautious – people should earn my trust. However, that was not who I was. Instead, I would always trust someone until they gave me cause (several times) not to, and I had no desire to be any other way.

However, after he died, there were too many instances of people trying to take advantage of my emotional state… The shock and distress of my “new normal” made me a target of some people’s manipulation rather than their compassion and understanding. Some actions were simple and easy to identify as non-trustworthy… For example, I can’t tell you how many phone calls I received from charity organizations, where they often used the phrase, “Your husband would want you to contribute,” or something similar. I fell for this once… and only once. Now, I never answer a call if I don’t recognize the number. If it’s important, they’ll leave a message. Otherwise, I don’t need to talk to them.

At other times, requests came for Bruce’s things. I’m not referring to family or friends who wanted something to remember him by – that is normal and right. I am referring to acquaintances, who would flat out ask for Bruce’s things, such as his tools, fishing equipment or our kayaks, usually accompanied by the phrase, “since you won’t be using it,” or something along that vein. To this day, I still have all these things… and, believe it or not, I use them. Through the years, I have learned to do small home repairs, taken my grandson fishing, and often kayak solo.

Then, there were the men who were way too eager to suddenly “be my friend” or who quite directly “offered” to sleep with me, because they would rather my “next time was with a friend and not a stranger” or because “someone had to be first, and it might as well be them.” Seriously?

One person from my childhood suddenly reappeared and took it so far as to ask if he could interview me for a book he was writing. I thought he was serious… I trusted him and agreed. It wasn’t until we were together that I realized it was not an interview, and despite being married, his intentions were not admirable. All of this has left such a bad taste in my mouth that trusting anyone again in this realm, seems next to impossible.

Before Bruce died, I would never have thought of myself as quiet. I was a performing arts teacher… I sang in choirs, performed in small town theater, and was a cantor at church. I didn’t really know a stranger and would talk to anyone anywhere about anything. (Shoot, that was how I met Bruce.) I was an open book with no secrets.

However, as time passed, I became more wary… more introverted… I learned not to talk about anything and everything… Because of the responses I received, I learned to keep my innermost thoughts to myself… It was easier and less confrontational… Even my grief, (other than writing this blog), I learned to keep to myself. That behavior has led me to a place where I can count on one hand, the number of people I am completely open with. Yet, I’m not convinced that is a bad thing… Now, the people I trust, I know I can trust – completely.

One of the biggest changes, though, has come about in this past year…

When Bruce died, I wanted to go with him… I did not want to be here alone… The magnitude of living the rest of my life without him seemed overwhelming… I didn’t think I could do it. However, as I have worked on my own healing and growth, I have become more introspective. I have found myself with a renewed respect for life and a deeper understanding of what is important.

My priorities are completely different knowing how precious each moment can be… knowing that the only moment that is promised is the one I am in… I have learned that my purpose here is to love… And if anything leads me away from that purpose, it is not the path for me… It really is that simple.

Part of writing this blog, is my own self-healing… my own self-awareness and understanding. Even now, as I have been writing this, I have come to realize something… All of these changes are really about learning to set boundaries… Something I always struggled with in the past. I am learning it is okay to say “no” and walk away from people or behaviors which are not healthy. I admit, I am still learning how to set them, but that is okay too… I believe these are changes I can live with, and now actually learn to enjoy my life on a different level.

How about you? Has your loss created changes in how you live? Not just the concrete ones that come from being alone. I am referring to your innermost thoughts and how you view and react to the world around you… 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

Peace, Love and Grief… Sometimes Life is a Challenge

I don’t care
How much time passes,
I don’t think
I will ever get over losing you.
~ Linda, August 2019

You know how it goes, right? Some weeks are just a little bit harder than others. For the most part, they all seem to start off on the same footing. However, sometimes there is a bump in the road, and the next thing I know, I am in a melancholy place…

This week, I knew I had a minor surgery lined up to remove the melanoma found a couple of weeks ago – a little nerve wracking, but nothing major. I knew I had this… I knew Bruce would be there beside me… I knew (or had a good feeling) that everything is going to be fine… Life in our house rumbled along normally.

However, on Tuesday evening, life took an unexpected turn…

Let me start by telling you about our cats. We have three… Two of our cats are older, and one is pretty young.

The oldest one is right at 20 years old. When my daughter was a teenager, she found him as a kitten outside the store where she worked. He was immediately named for the town, Frogmore. Years later, when she left for college, Frogmore stayed with me, and has been by my side ever since. He moved to Michigan and back here to Florida. He is the Winnie the Pooh of cats – a heart of gold, a love for food and completely at peace with his life.

The youngest one is also my daughter’s. This one was also a stray, but very feral. She was left behind when her mother was taken by animal control. Her name is Lady, and in Lady’s mind, my daughter is her Momma. She is fiercely loyal to my daughter, sees my grandson as her sibling, tolerates me, and struggles to figure out her place with the other two cats. Despite all this, she loves us all in her own way, and does not like it at all if anyone is not at home when they should be. In fact, she will stay by the front screen door waiting for whoever is missing to come home.

Our middle cat is Duffy. She was actually Bruce’s cat. He got her from a rescue shelter right after we met and named her after the bar in the Virgin Islands where we first kissed – Duffy’s Love Shack. There was a special charm about Duffy… She wasn’t your normal cat… She loved pink – anything and everything pink. (I know, they say animals are color-blind, but not her.) She also loved make-up brushes and would hide them under the furniture “for later.”

Mostly, though, she loved Bruce. There was such a special bond between the two of them. He would talk to her, and she would answer. In fact, they would have whole conversations that went on and on. Their favorite game was “cat bowling.” I know it probably sounds awful, but she loved it. He would set up several beer cans at one end of the hall. Then, she would lay down and let him “bowl” her into the cans. Then, she would come running back for more… And she would play as long as he would.

After Bruce died, she grieved… I know she did. In fact, I think she struggled as much as I did. It has just been in the last couple of years that we have started to see some of her old personality once again. I think Frogmore was her rock as she struggled with the loss of Bruce. Watching them throughout these past years, she and Frogmore have been inseparable… Wherever one was, the other was never very far away.

So those are our cats… and we love them. Whenever we are away, the three of them stay on our screened-in porch. When we get home, we let them in, where snuggles and treats are in order. On Tuesday, when I opened the slider to let them in, Lady immediately alerted me that something was wrong. I heard a cry and found Duffy… She was struggling to breathe, and her hind quarters were paralyzed.

My heart sunk… I knew she was getting old, but there had been nothing to indicate a problem. In fact, she had seemed fine that morning. How could this be? She looked at me with wide eyes, and it was obvious she was scared and in pain. I scooped her up and sat in one of the rockers to soothe her, while my daughter located an animal hospital where we could take her. Within a few short minutes, we were on the road. It all felt so surreal…

The staff and vet at the hospital were wonderful. They took Duffy back immediately, but there wasn’t anything they could do… Within the hour, we had lost her… She was gone… and our hearts were broken.

Maybe it sounds silly but losing Duffy this week was like losing another piece of Bruce. It’s crazy, but it really has been hard. If I think about it too long, the tears start. After all, she was his, and even after all this time, that has never changed. Her loss has taken me to a melancholy place… A place filled with memories… and love… and Bruce… Memories of happy times now gone… Times I will always miss… Times I will never know again.

I know this is a part of life… And I know life will go on. However, this week – for these few days – life has presented a bit of a challenge. And I grieve… I grieve for Duffy… and I grieve again for Bruce. However, I’m not the only one. For even as I write this, Frogmore meows as he wonders about looking for his mate, seeming just a bit sadder… And Lady? Well, she sits by the front door… waiting.

How about you? Have you had another experience of loss that brings back the loss of your loved one? 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

Peace, Love and Grief… Who Do You Grieve?

If you are reading this, more than likely, it is because you have lost someone you love. You are grieving… as I am… as this entire group does. Grief sucks! It’s hard, and there are no directions or checklists. It definitely has a beginning, but I’m not sure it ever has an ending. For each of us, there is a space in our lives that is empty now… For me, that space belonged to Bruce.

Each week I share a little bit about my journey, and what I am experiencing… I share little snippets of Bruce, and what our life was together was like… and how all that has changed. But today… Today, I just want to tell you about this man I shared my life with… This man I loved… This man I still grieve.

Bruce and I met on a sailing schooner in the Virgin Islands on December 26, 2004. I was traveling with my son, and Bruce was alone. What started as a “Do you need to borrow a pen?” quickly became a ship-board romance. We spent a week talking, dancing and laughing… It was incredible.

On the last morning, while he was trying to figure out how to keep things going, I was breaking things off. After all, I was a music teacher in a small SC town, and he was a truck driver in western MI – over 1000 miles away. To think we had a future together was ridiculous. However, after crying all the way home, I knew I was wrong, and we belonged together.

Sure enough, ten months later, I was moving to Michigan, and we were saying, “I do.”

My previous marriage had been an intensely, abusive one, and had ended years before. When I married Bruce, I was still struggling with so many of the after-effects that are the result of such a relationship. Bruce knew going in what my children and I had endured. He knew all the gory details, and never shied away from loving all of us. There were so many times when my response to him was based in my past – not my present with him. I can remember my mother saying, “He’s not —-. Don’t respond to him like he’s (that other person).”

God love him. He was the most patient person on the planet, as I learned how to trust this man with whom I was sharing my life. There were many hours when I had to go sit by the water to sort out what I knew was real and what was imagined within the context of my past. But he never wavered… He was always there… waiting for my return with a big hug and an, “I love you… that’s forever.”

I remember our first argument, when I ran to our room crying. He gave me some time alone before knocking and coming in. I can remember him placing his forehead against mine as he told me that sometimes relationships are hard, but that’s okay… We’d figure it out and be that much stronger for it. There was no violence or demand for my submission… I was allowed to be me… and he was allowed to be him. I had never known such a relationship… It was so freeing and empowering.

I remember a particular Sunday night. He was in NY visiting my youngest daughter for a few days. On the nightly news, the announcement came that his company was closing at midnight, and he would be out of work. We had no prior notice, and I panicked… but not him. He told me he had waited over 12 years for me to walk into his world, God had provided then, and God would provide again… He believed that with all his soul. Well, it took 18 months and a move to FL, but sure enough, he was right again.

I remember another time when it was his heart that was broken… I can’t tell you what it was that broke his heart, because it is not my story to tell. However, I remember coming home from work, and he had been drinking, which caught me a bit off guard. At first, he was flirty and jovial, so I just went with it. However, quite quickly, things turned sour, and I became the brunt of an anger I didn’t understand… Nothing physical, just sarcastic, cutting remarks… Hurtful things… Things I had never heard him say.

I was so completely stunned and didn’t understand what was happening. It was an awful episode. Bruce wasn’t much of a talker, and while he apologized profusely the following day, it took months before I finally learned what had actually ripped his heart in two.

But like every time before, we were there for each other… Always each other’s BFF and biggest supporter and fan… And just a little bit stronger because of what we had been through together.

By the time, we moved into our home in FL, we had found that comfortable rhythm… That space where arguments are few and hugs are plenty… That space where we knew the other would always be there – through thick or thin… That space where the trust and bond between us was unshakable.

And then it happened…

It was a Friday night… a night like any other. He came home late, and was hungry and tired. I sat with him while he ate, and we made plans for the weekend. He just chuckled, as I rambled on and on about all the things we could do. We had just gotten new kayaks for Christmas, and I was anxious to take them out again… Then again, we could take the boat out… or just head to the beach and enjoy a day together… It really didn’t matter – just being together was all either of us wanted.

As we went to bed, we followed the same ritual that we had followed from our beginning. He turned down the bed for us, and with great care, we each undressed the other. Then, he tucked me into the bed, before crawling into his side, pulling me close, and turning off the light. The night always ended with me snuggled in his arms.. my head on his chest.

But that night was different… That night, as I lay beside him, Bruce’s heart stopped… and so did my world… This is the man I grieve… This is the man I miss… This is the man I still love…

How about you? Who do you grieve? Who do you miss? Share with us, please… Tell us about this person whom you love… This path can be a hard 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

Peace, Love and Grief… Looking for the Blessings

“As I lie here thinking of you, I realize I have been blessed to have had a husband whose only expectation was for me to love him…
And whose only goal was to show me how much he loved me.”

~ Linda, July 2014

Maybe it is just me, but I have found that one of the hardest parts of being a widow is remembering to focus on the blessings. In the beginning, all I could think about was “what was no longer.” It was such a struggle that my life coach at the time had me start making a daily list of things to be thankful for. At first, I had to make myself think hard to come up with even two or three things. However, before long I was able to find multiple blessings… It was a great way to start turning my thought process around.

I think the second hardest thing has been the expectation (or my supposed expectation) from others to “control” my emotions. Don’t get me wrong, I understand I can’t live my life crying from grief and wallowing in self-pity. Yet at the same time, I often find myself shoving my real feelings down deep inside. Then to try to counter or ignore those feelings, I find myself either being way too bubbly or very quiet… Either way, it just feels awkward. It isn’t real, and it isn’t the real “me” at that moment.

I started a journal soon after Bruce died, and it has been a great outlet for those feelings. Over time, that journal seemed to morph into this blog, which has also been a great outlet for those feelings. There are so many things I will write here that I don’t talk about otherwise. Weird, huh? But, this space seems to be safe… A space where others understand what I am talking about because they are on that same journey.

Writing has given me an outlet for a lot of emotions and thoughts that I am not comfortable sharing… many of them have been so intense, they almost scare me. Yet, all of this writing has helped me release those emotions… I can leave them right there on the page and walk away. It has become such a vital part of this journey that I look forward to “my writing time” and the healing I feel after.

This week was no different. This week, after less than a year, that “C” word has been re-introduced into my world. This time it came as, “The biopsy came back, and it is melanoma.” WHAT?? At first, my mind went blank and tears started to form. What the h***?? How can this be happening again?

Truthfully, it is early, and the prognosis couldn’t be better. (Unless it wasn’t cancer at all.) They just need to go back for clear margins, and if that is do-able, all is well. Still… even that knowledge didn’t make the first couple of days any easier.

Honestly, I know I am blessed, I know it… but I’m still frustrated. Once again, I would give anything for Bruce to be here. Doing this kind of stuff without him feels way more daunting. I wish he were here to hold me and just let me be mad for a little while… to just let me cry for a long while… to just hold me… to just tell me we will get through this together, and it’s all going to be just fine.

… But that can’t be… that can never be… and that makes me mad, too!

Those are the emotions I’m talking about. Those are the ones I’m not comfortable saying out loud because it sounds so silly. I know this is a simple thing… I know it’s not a big deal… But deep down it’s still another round of that “C” word without Bruce, and it’s still a little bit scary…

So, now, what do I do?

The same thing I have been trying to do on this journey… Share my feelings here and look constantly to find the blessings around me…

When Bruce was alive, I didn’t have to put any effort into finding the blessings… it was easy. It took us 44 years to find each other, and that miracle was never lost on either of us… Everyday together was a blessing. However, the past few days I have struggled… I hate it, but when things get tough, it is still so easy for me to get caught up in what I have lost rather than what I still have.

I really do realize I have a lot of blessings here, though. This has been caught early, and it is going to be absolutely fine. I also have great family and friends who are here for me. Luckily, I have great insurance, a fabulous boss and a wonderful job that allows me to take care of my health without worry of reprisals.

… And even if I can’t see him, in my heart, I know Bruce is here beside me once again… Holding me tight and whispering, “I love you” and “We’ve got this” in my ear…

How about you? What do you struggle with along your path? Do you ever struggle to find the blessings when things get hard? How do you respond to those moments? This path can be a hard 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