grief – Page 25 – Peace, Love & Grief

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. *

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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

Peace, Love and Grief… You Feel What You Feel

This week, I listened to a speaker talk about emotional pain, such as grief. He talked about how when the pain is physical, we are more honest about how we feel. For example, if we have a broken bone, no one thinks less of us if we say it is hurting on a certain day. Shoot, even years later, if you say that an old injury is bothering you, no one thinks a thing about it.

Yet inner pain, which is just as real, is not treated the same. For whatever reason, we are more hesitant to say we are feeling a little down or that the grief is a bit overwhelming on a certain day. But why? Is it the reaction we think we will get? Or is because of a reaction we have gotten in the past? … Probably a little bit of both.

But just like a physical hurt, we must acknowledge and take care of our inner pain, as well, if we want it to heal at all. If you have ever lost someone you love, that is what we call our grief journey… That path where we struggle to find the healing balance which will allow us to deal with the pain, while at the same time, not letting it completely take over our lives.

For me, (six years later), I mostly function in a positive zone… most days, I am okay. In fact, if you ask me how I am, I will say, “Fabulous.” I can smile and laugh and live in the moment. However, I still have days or moments where the grief and sadness are dominant. It’s not a bad thing or an overwhelming thing… I just feel sad. Plain and simple, I miss Bruce. More precisely, I miss all the things he added to my life.

I’m not talking about a pity party… I’m not caught up in feeling sorry for myself. In fact, most people around me are completely oblivious that anything is wrong. I can usually brush any questions off with “I’m just tired.” But the truth is I’m just sad. I don’t know how to explain it… I’m not feeling sorry for myself. At this point, I definitely accept my reality as it is… I guess the best I can explain it is to say I just miss him.

You see, when you lose your partner, you lose more than just a person. That person filled so many roles… so many spaces in your life… And I miss all those things…

I used to always tell Bruce, he was my hero… and he was. He was also my best friend, my rock and my anchor… He brought a stability to my life that I had never experienced before him. I have spent most my adulthood going from one crisis to the next, but not with Bruce. With him, life took on a peace and fullness that is indescribable… and I miss that.

I have a friend who lost his wife a few months before I lost Bruce. I remember asking him how he was doing one day, and he responded, “You miss the little things… that’s where the relationship and the love came from.” Boy, he was right! Those are the exact things I miss…

I miss going places with Bruce… side by side – always together. I miss sharing the adventure of all those places and experiences we shared. I miss going to restaurants and sitting on the same side of the table so we could still hold hands (or snuggle if it was a booth). I know that probably sounds goofy, but it made me feel so special. I miss that he would always order an appetizer, while I ordered a full meal. Then, when I got full (which didn’t take long), he would finish off my food… always letting me pick whatever I wanted to eat, then laughing as I pushed my plate toward him after only a few bites.

I miss Sundays… It was out day to go to the beach together. It was such a quiet special time together. There wasn’t a lot of conversation. Instead, we just enjoyed the silence as we sat next to each other holding hands while watching the waves, reading or catching a quick nap.

Sundays also meant cooking together. There was something fun and romantic about sharing a space that is really meant for one. There was also something sexy about watching him cook while I sat at the counter – watching, talking, and sipping on a glass of wine.

I miss those days when he got home first and would greet me at the door with a glass of wine. Or when I was on the phone with someone and getting stressed, silently, he would come with a grin and a glass of wine.

I miss snuggling on the couch after dinner – either in silence or watching TV. It didn’t really matter. Just being together, breathing each other in, was the best part of those moments.

I miss playing games and knowing that he would never just let me win. Of course, he might play sports left-handed to give me better chance (LOL!), but he was just as competitive as I am. It was so much fun, knowing that whoever won would have bragging rights for days.

I miss having someone who loves me, even when I’m wrong. He was always there for me… No matter what, he always had my back. Whenever I was frustrated with myself, Bruce would just take me in his arms and hold me. He never tried to fix things or reiterated my mistakes. Shoot, I was already well aware of whatever I had done. I just needed to know that someone still loved me in spite of it… and he never failed to fill that need. He never left me doubting his love. It was always there – strong and constant.

This list could go on and on… There are so many things I miss… So many day-to-day memories that I would give anything to have back again. However, that is not meant to be…

Instead, this is my journey, and honestly, I think I’m doing pretty good. Most days the road is smooth and the sun shines. Although occasionally, the road is rough, and I can’t see the sun. On those days, the only thing I know to do is breathe and take it one step at a time… allowing myself to feel what I feel – knowing that a better day is always just ahead.

What about you? What do you miss about your loved one? I know everyone’s experience is different… We all miss different aspects of our relationships, and we all heal in our own way. However, that doesn’t mean we have to be on this journey alone. I believe this is where we can help each other… By sharing our stories and experiences, we can all feel validated and supported. Please feel free to reach out and share your story or thoughts. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note. *

Who knows? Your story may the answer for someone else.

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Oh, How I Wish!

I am not usually this late writing this blog, but until today, I didn’t really know what I wanted to write about… But something happened today that changed all of that…

Today, I drove about an hour + to meet up with a dear friend for lunch and some “catch-up” conversation. She and I have been friends for almost 30 years. Way back, we met because our husbands had served in the military together. Then, when we all left the military, we ended up in the same neighborhood. So, we did a lot together through the years. We home schooled together, went for nightly walks together, spent summers by the lake together, hung out at the bar together, babysat for each other, and our kids grew up together.

She has been there for me through thick and thin. When I went through my divorce, she and her husband offered us respite in their home. When Bruce and I were married, she was one of my biggest cheerleaders. Then, between life events and moving, we lost touch for a few years. In retrospect, neither of us knows quite how that happened… But as friends will do, about three years ago we found each other again and are determined that will never happen again.

Last year, when I went through the “cancer thing,” there she was – ready to do whatever I needed, whenever I needed. She allowed us to stay in their beach-side home the weekend before my surgery and was always standing ready to go with me to my treatments in the event my sister couldn’t. And since I have been declared cancer-free, she has been trying to find a way for us to celebrate.

In other words, she is a dear, dear friend, who owns a piece of my heart!

Today, we met halfway between our homes. (In reality, she drove further than I did, but that is how she rolls.) For four hours, we sat and talked… We laughed, we cried, we shared memories and dreams for the future… It was a glorious afternoon! And before we said our goodbye’s, we made plans for the next time.

Why am I telling you this? Well, as I drove home, I started thinking…

What a wonderful afternoon. It was simple – nothing fancy, nothing crazy, not a ton of money… It was just two people who genuinely care for each other spending an afternoon together. It was such a special day for me.

So why is friendship one of those things we seem to take for granted? Why is time spent with those we love something we take for granted? I don’t have an answer, but I would bet we all do it…

I have no regrets when it comes mine and Bruce’s relationship. Yet, I also know I took for granted so much of our time together. Don’t get me wrong… I really did appreciate our time together. Even back then, I knew I was blessed. But, all those day to day moments… those times we were just sitting on the couch watching TV or the times we were cooking together in the kitchen… All the times we came home from vacation and still had to unpack and do laundry… Or all the Sunday nights we were just getting ready for the next week… What about those?

Honestly, I know I took them for granted. I always just assumed we had endless days waiting for us… I never dreamed we wouldn’t “grow old together.” I didn’t know I needed to actually appreciate every single moment.

But now… now, I would give anything for just one afternoon with Bruce… One just like this one I just spent with my friend… To have four hours to talk and catch up… To laugh together and be able to share what is happening and what our current passions are dreams are… To be able look into his eyes just one more time and say “I love you.”

Oh, how I wish that could be… just one more time…

What about you? Do you know what I mean? Do you ever wish you could have just one more day? One more moment? I know everyone’s experience is different, and we all heal in our own way, but that doesn’t mean we have to be on this journey alone. I believe this is where we can help each other… By sharing our stories and experiences, we can all feel validated and supported. Please feel free to reach out and share your story or thoughts. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note. * Who knows? Your story may the answer for someone else.

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