loss – Page 25 – Peace, Love & Grief

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

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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

Peace, Love and Grief… Supposed To

This past week has held a lot of stress at work – not really anything bad, per es, just deadlines and meetings that didn’t go as predicted. We’ve all been there… We all know that is just life sometimes. No big deal… we keep going. Still, it is that stress that left me feeling emotionally drained… and physically tired this week. I know when I am tired, I am more vulnerable to the waves of grief that can catch me off guard… And they did.

All week as the exhaustion increased, my ability to push the grief onto a back burner got harder and harder. By Wednesday, the tears were next to impossible to keep at bay… And it was beyond frustrating. I was determined not to cry… not at work… not in front of anyone. Yet, there were a couple of times, I had to turn my back and hide my face. Yet, even that sometimes pisses me off, too.

Why are we held to a standard that at times is impossible to uphold? We (or at least myself) are told we’re supposed to be strong. We are “supposed to” be over it… But what about the days or moments when we aren’t? Why can’t we just be human for a moment?

But the world doesn’t function that way… And we all seem to abide by the “supposed-to’s.”

As women in the workplace, we are “supposed to” act more masculine – toughen it up, show no emotion. Otherwise, we are viewed as weak or silly. Who decided that? I’m not saying we should be an emotional mess. But I do know, having feelings and emotions doesn’t make me weak… In fact, I would bet money, I have survived more crap than most of the men who hold me to that standard.

As men, they are “supposed to” be tough and squash their emotions down deep inside where no one can see them. We tell them from an early age, “Big boys don’t cry.” Then later, as adults, we tell them not to be afraid of their feelings. Oh! Do we mean those feelings we told them not to have? Good grief! What is that about?

As an older woman, we are told what we should or shouldn’t wear… “Don’t look old, but don’t dress too young.” … Oh, please! (Yes, I am rolling my eyes!)

Certainly not the last of a never-ending list, but as a widow, I’m “supposed to” move on – get over it… Whatever!

Some days the pain is so great.
Sometimes it is too much.
But still I must put a smile on my face
And walk out to face the world.
I must pretend all is well.
But on the inside…
The pain is so great…
It is too much…
Too much…
~ Linda, September 2013

I guess what I’m saying is we all have these ridiculous expectations that are placed on us by the world around us. Yet if we are honest, as much as we hate it, we also placed them on the people around us, as well. But why? The older I get, the more I realize it’s all so ridiculous! Who cares? Yes, we need standards for our own lives, but we don’t need everyone else’s standards for our own lives… Didn’t we learn that as teenagers when peer pressure was so strong? Where did we start falling for it again?

It seems like somewhere along the line, it became more about trying to make everyone “comfortable” and life always appearing to be fabulous, rather than life is life and we just need to live it honestly. Yes, we all need to maintain a certain amount of self-control, so that our needs don’t impede on someone else’s existence. So, as long as we respect that, why not live our lives, and just leave all those “supposed-to’s” behind?

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to live my life based on someone else’s expectations… I simply want to live it… and experience it… all of it – the good and the bad. I want to feel what I feel, wear what makes me feel good, and do those things that bring me joy…

And I would bet you, if Bruce (or any of our loved ones) could come back, they wouldn’t say they wished they had followed more of these “supposed-to’s” …

Don’t be so rigid that you break in the storm.
At the same time, be careful how far you bend.
For if you bend too far, like a tree that breaks in the storm,
You will find you are no longer standing at all.
~ Linda, September 2013

What about you? What has your grief journey been like? Have you ever felt like you had to live up to everyone else’s standards? If so, did it frustrate you? Or was it helpful? I know there isn’t one answer that works for all of us. Everyone heals in their 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

Peace, Love and Grief… It’s Complicated

In the dictionary, grief is defined as “deep sorrow, especially that caused by someone’s death,” with a second definition of “trouble or annoyance.” … Speaking from experience, both are right, and both apply here. Grief is deep sorrow caused by death, and it creates a lot of trouble and annoyance.

This week, while listening to “The Dead Drink First” by Dale Maharidge on my work commute, there was a quote that caught my ear. The speaker was a WWII vet, and basically, he said that the dead are not the ones who suffer; their suffering has ended; it is those who love them… those who are left behind who truly suffer. I couldn’t agree more.

Throughout the years on this journey, I have gone through every emotion on the planet. In the beginning I was completely numb – going through the motions of life, but not able to grasp what was really happening. It’s weird… I can remember people telling me how strong I was. I wasn’t… I was numb… I was completely dead inside. I kept thinking this had to be a dream, and I just needed to get to the end and wake up. Then, everything would be okay. Then, Bruce would be right there beside me, and I would be able to snuggle up in his arms and kiss his cheek.

But that didn’t happen…

Instead, after a couple of months, the grief (“deep sorrow”) actually started to set in. I was alone… I started each day alone, and I ended each day alone. When I looked at what lay ahead, my life looked a road filled with being alone.

This led to feelings of abandonment. I remember feeling abandoned by Bruce, abandoned by God, and abandoned by the world, (who, if you remember, is thinking I am “strong” and doing okay). Which, of course, only created “annoyance.” Then, the anger started. It began deep in the pit of my stomach, and quickly flowed into every thought.

Day after day, it was always the same – wake up, work out, go to work, come home, go to bed. Life seemed bleak and pointless… I didn’t understand why I was still here, and Bruce was gone. I couldn’t figure out what my purpose was… I couldn’t seem to find hope anywhere.

Now, the world started to take notice and think something was wrong. After all, I had been doing so well. What in the world was wrong with me? Most people had no idea this was the grief, just starting to settle in. This was actually normal. This was the “deep sorrow” and the “trouble and annoyance.” And, honestly, this delayed response is more “normal” than one might think.

You see, the sudden, (aka – unexpected), loss of someone you love knocks you off your feet. I can remember feeling like the rug had been pulled out from under me, and I wasn’t sure how it happened or why. Then, once I realized what my reality was, it felt like the last pages of my book, my story, had been ripped out. It is an awful feeling, and one I struggled with for a long time, as I tried to get my bearings and find a renewed purpose.

Then, there was the guilt. I later heard someone say that it isn’t unusual for the surviving loved ones to feel guilt or blame, because these emotions offer us a sense of control in the situation. It makes us feel as if there is a chance things could have been different… Maybe it could have been prevented. This didn’t just happen. No, someone is at fault… And in my case, it was me.

After all, I was the one who was sleeping beside him when it happened. I was the one who couldn’t wake up fast enough or call 911 fast enough. I was the one who struggled trying to get him into a position so I could do CPR… And, ultimately, I was the one who failed… In his last moments, when he needed me most, I failed. He died, and I couldn’t stop it. (Honestly, I am still crying as I write this part… I think I will always feel guilt for not being able to save him.)

It didn’t matter that the Medical Examiner told me no one could have saved him. His condition required a heart transplant, so when his heart stopped, it stopped. “No one,” he emphasized over and over, “could have saved him that night.” Yet, I have struggled with this guilt for years.

It has been a slow process, but through the years, I have come to terms with my reality. I have learned to laugh and enjoy life. It’s hard to really define my purpose, but I believe, I am here to just be kind and show love to others… At least for now.

At this point, I have a lot more good days than bad… And even the bad days, don’t linger like they used to. I am better at recognizing when I need time for me and when I need to be with others. I am better at recognizing that I am responsible for how I handle my grief, and no one else.

It’s been quite the journey, and I know it’s not over. While in the beginning I couldn’t see how I would manage, now I know I can’t just quit at life because he is gone. Life keeps going, and I want to be a part of it.

All that being said, I miss him… and I think I will always miss him.

This is just a small snippet of what grief is like… It is a small piece of my experience, but everyone’s path is unique. Everyone’s grief is different… However, it is always a jumble of emotions that come and go. Most people refer to these as waves of grief… or aftershocks. Sometimes, they are just small twinges and other times they are as strong as the initial blow and will knock you off your feet. The worst part is you never know when they will hit or why. There is no real rhyme or reason. For me, I am learning that when I am tired or frustrated, I am more vulnerable to these, but that isn’t always the deciding factor. It can be a song or smell, a place or someone’s mannerisms… Any number of things that suddenly bring Bruce to my mind, and then just as quickly, I think how much I still miss him and wish he were still here…

In other words, it is complicated…

“Grief is more than missing someone; it is an unrelenting ache for reality to be different and for the impossible to come true.” ~ Anonymous

What about you? What has your grief journey been like? What has been your biggest obstacle? How do you handle those moments when the memories flood in and threaten to take over your reality? Have you found a way to balance your grief with your current life? I know there isn’t a schedule, and everyone heals in their own time, but that doesn’t make this journey any easier. 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… Unexpected Memories

It’s hard to believe I have spent the last few days in Michigan. It felt so strange – so surreal. There are so many days when I miss Michigan. Let me clarify… There are so many days when I miss our time there… our time together. I have so many good and happy memories of us there. Sometimes I even wonder what it would be like if I could go back, or if I still lived there…

When I stepped off the plane on Thursday, I was excited at the idea of spending the next few days with Bruce’s family. I walked down the gangway and into the airport, and it hit me like a punch to the belly… All I could think about was the first time I walked down that same corridor, and there Bruce stood – leaning against a column watching the passengers disembark. The moment our eyes met, he broke into a grin from ear to ear.

On Thursday, I knew he wasn’t there waiting. (Oh, I wish he had been!) Yet, it all came back so fast and felt so real. I actually had to stop for a moment and look around to get my bearings in this reality. This town is filled with so many memories, I found myself pausing quite often while I was there to catch my breath and to remind myself what my reality IS.

There were other memories that came to mind as I found my way through the airport… There were the chairs where we would try to steal a few private moments before saying goodbye when we were dating, and the restaurant where we always had a pre-flight drink when we were flying together. I would swear I could remember every trip to the Gulf Coast to see his folks and the multiple trips to SC to see my family… And that was just the airport.

As I was driving through town, all I could think about is how beautiful Michigan is in the summer, and how I loved spending that first summer up there with Bruce. I can’t even begin to describe the pure lush, green of a Michigan Summer… It is absolutely amazing. That drive to Bruce’s family, out toward Lake Michigan, brought back the memories of all the times we drove out there to spend time on our sailboat, Island Buoy.

While I was there, Bruce’s sisters and I spent one evening out at Lake Michigan watching the sunset. At the water’s edge, we all put our toes in the water… And it was freezing!

All I could think about was the time Bruce anchored the sailboat offshore. The plan was to swim in and eat at the beach side restaurant. I put one foot in the water and immediately climbed back into the boat. There was no way I was swimming in that cold water. There was a short conversation between us, before Bruce conceded to let me ride on his shoulders (above the water). LOL!

Truthfully, I never swam in that lake… It was always too cold for me. Bruce took one picture of me with my feet in the water, but that was as far as I could manage… Just the memory of those days had me laughing happily inside as we watched the sun slide quietly from the sky.

The highlight for my trip was spending time with Bruce’s Mom and Dad. It was wonderful! Bruce has been gone for so long now, most people will tolerate a phrase or tow about him… maybe even the occasional shared memory, but too much “Bruce” seems to make the room grow silent. However, for two days, there was conversation after conversation with his parents, and each one was filled with Bruce. I loved it! (It was even better knowing they wanted and needed those conversations as much as I did.)

At one point, Dad said the kindest thing… He talked about how it felt when Mom had a couple of strokes in May and spent weeks on end at the hospital. He talked about how awful it was to come home to an empty house – without her… And how he realized in those moments how hard the last six years have been for me… without you.

He is one of the only people who has been able to experience that and to make that connection with me… All I could manage to say was, “Thank you!” Thank you for understanding… Thank you for validating how hard this has been.

He went on to say he couldn’t speak for the rest of the family, but he could definitely speak for himself, and he felt he could speak for Bruce. Then, he said he knew if something happened to Mom, he couldn’t handle that loneliness day after day… year after year… that he felt he would need someone. He wanted me to know that he (and Bruce) would be happy for me if I ever found someone who made me happy again. He kept stressing that he (and Bruce) wouldn’t want me to be alone for the rest of my life.

Honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about that part. I am grateful to have his blessing (and Bruce’s), if such a thing should happen… And I know “never say never.” However, I don’t know if I am really ready for such a thing. Then again, there’s no rush… not for me anyway – I’m okay for now.

As I write this, I am on the plane heading back home… All I can think is how lonely it feels leaving Michigan alone… It’s like saying goodbye to Bruce all over again… As I sit here, I am trying to hide the tears from the boy sitting next me… I feel so sad and lost… so alone… but in my heart, I know, “All shall be well… All shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” 1

What about you? How do handle those moments with the memories flood in and threaten to take over your reality? Is there a way to balance your grief with your current life? I know there isn’t a schedule, and everyone heals in their own time. However, that doesn’t make this journey any easier. 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

1 ~ Julian of Norwich

Peace, Love and Grief… Back to That Ring Question

The ring… What to do about the ring?

That has been one of the quandaries for me since Bruce passed… but not his ring – mine. When Bruce died, I was handed the only jewelry he ever wore (and never took off) – his wedding band and a silver anchor necklace. Immediately, I slipped his wedding band onto the chain and placed it around my neck. I wore it there for years. In fact, I still wear it, but with all the surgery and radiation last year, I started tucking it into my clothes… as close to my heart as I can get it.

As for my wedding band, I didn’t even think about it for almost a year. It may sound strange, but I still felt married. (Honestly, there are a lot of times I have to remind myself that I am a widow… which technically means I’m not married, I guess.) That has been an on and off struggle for me as a widow…

For the longest time, it didn’t occur to me to “do” anything with my ring. However, over time I began to notice that different widows did different things in regard to their wedding bands. Some took it off immediately. Others moved it to their right hand, wore it on a chain around their neck or had it made into a different piece of jewelry. However, others just continued wearing it… I continued wearing mine… It just felt right at the time.

There are so many beautiful memories behind my ring. Every day, I would look at it and remember how much I had been loved, and how much I had loved him. It was a material representation of what we had… I couldn’t let go… I just couldn’t.

After the first year, I began to realize that while the ring brought me comfort, it also created some awkward conversations. Inevitably, someone would notice the ring and ask about my husband. I would answer that my husband had passed away and the conversation immediately became awkward. Caught off guard, people didn’t know how to respond, but I didn’t know how to answer any different. Finally, I came to the conclusion that, I should think about doing something different.

Doing what I usually do, I started with some research. Immediately, I found that there is no such thing as “widow’s ring etiquette.” There is no etiquette on what to do and when to do it. The bottom line is each person does what feels right for them… and what feels right at one point may change over time.

For a while, I tried placing my setting on Bruce’s chain with his ring, and wore them both around my neck… But my finger felt so empty! It was too weird! I decided to see if I could find a ring to wear on that same finger but would represent the changes in my life. I didn’t have anything in particular in mind. In my gut, though, I knew when I saw the right ring, I would know.

A few months into my search, I found what I felt was the perfect ring while in Mexico. It was a beautiful blue/violet tanzanite stone surrounded by a triangle of tiny diamonds. The stone was the color of the ocean where we met and spent so much time sailing, as well as the sky we dreamed under. The triangle symbolized strength, hope, spirituality, past/ present/ future and both the masculine and feminine (depending on the direction it points).

I loved it! It felt so perfect! I called it my “life ring.” It seemed to be a perfect representation of my life before Bruce and I met, our life together, and my future – whatever that might be.

I thought that would be it… For me, the ring question was finally answered… but things change.

Last year, when I was diagnosed with cancer, I was terrified! The idea of doing everything I needed to do without Bruce just seemed impossible. I didn’t think I had the strength to do it. I needed him by my side…

Then, one night as I removed the chain from around my neck, my ring caught my eye. It is the most beautiful piece of jewelry I have ever owned. However, more than that… Whenever I look at it, all I can think about it how much that man loved me, and how much I loved him. That ring was a symbol of us… side by side… for better or for worse… in sickness or in health…

In that moment, I made the decision… I put it back on.

All through my treatments, whenever I felt alone or afraid, I would look at that ring and know that Bruce was with me… I wasn’t alone. It probably sounds silly, but that ring (and everything it represented) gave me so much courage and strength. I would swear to you, it had as much to do with my healing and determination to live as any of the treatments I undertook.

So here I am… The cancer is gone, and I am on a healthy path, but the ring is still right here on my finger. It’s funny… I have come a long way in my grief. I am learning to “stand tall” a lot more than I cry. I am laughing and enjoying life again. I am feeling adventurous and stepping out in new directions. Yet, this ring remains on my finger. Honestly, I don’t know if I will take it off again or not… and I’m not really worried about it.

Why? Because it makes me smile… And when life offers you something that makes you smile; you should just enjoy it!

What about you? Have you ever found yourself in a quandary over the ring… Trying to decide on the best way to move forward and still not forget the past? This journey can be hard, but it is even harder to bear alone. I believe we are in this together. None of us are alone, because we have each other. 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

Things You Taught Me, Part 3

I sat weeping
Big, fat tears,
Heaving sobs…
How could you love me?
… me?

I spent years being told how horrible I was…
So undeserving,
So unlovable.
I have spent a lifetime
Feeling like someone else’s garbage.

I needed you to understand
Why you shouldn’t love me,
But you only held me tighter
As the tears and sobs flowed from my soul.

When my tears began to slow,
You looked me in the eye
And smiled…

STOP!
You don’t understand.

I took a piece of paper.
I crumpled it in a ball
And spread it out again.
Then, I crumpled it again,
And smoothed it out again.
I did this several more times
As you watched in silence…

I tried to smooth it out one final time,
“This is me…
This is what you think you love.”

With a question in your eye,
You replied,
“This is how you see yourself?”
In my shame, I nodded.
“Is there any good in you,” you asked.
I shrugged…

You took a clean piece of paper
And placed it over the wrinkled page.
“This much good?”
I shook my head…
You didn’t understand.

I took the clean page,
And tore off a small corner;
I placed that in the center of the wrinkled page.
“Maybe this much,” I said
As the tears started to fall once again.

You looked at the paper.
You took a breath…
I waited…
Expecting,
But not wanting to hear,
I was right…

Instead,
You wiped my tears.
“You only see the wrinkles –
The mess left from has passed.
But when I look at you,
I only see this part.”
And you gently touched the smooth corner
Sitting in the middle of so many wrinkles…

In that moment,
My heart was made whole,
Because now,
I understood love…
True, unconditional love…
Love that I never knew existed.

This is love! This is how Bruce taught me about love. This is when I first began to understand that I could (and should) have this same expectation of God’s love for me. When I think about all the ways Bruce and I expressed our love for each other, I know this is what I can expect in my relationship with God.

I can remember running to the car or the door when he came home in the evening, because I was so excited to see him. He would always laugh as he drew me into his arms and kissed me. I remember being content to simply sit together – no TV, no talking – just sitting and holding hands for an hour or more… So much love passing back and forth in a simple touch. I remember the safe, secure feeling when I laid in his arms. I remember how strong and powerful he was. Yet, he was always so gentle – so careful to never cause me harm.

He never felt threatened by my questions or my independence, and never demanded his own authority. Ours was a relationship of love, trust and balance… It is what I want in my relationship with God.

Bruce taught me so much about how God loves me and how to love him. God does not relate to me through my “wrinkles,” (aka my“sin”). He is not interested in that at all! Instead, love is his primary characteristic… Which means he doesn’t love me in spite of myself… He loves me because of myself… He loves the very person I am. Of course, he would! (He made me.) If God really is a God of love, then how could his love for me be anything less than Bruce’s love for me?

I remember when you died, Babe, you said you would be by my side for as long as I needed you… I don’t know when that will be… It is hard to admit (because I still love you so much), but I feel I am getting closer and closer to that point.

I love you, Babe… Now and forever!

~ Linda, Journal Entry May 2019

The healing in my life and in my heart over the past few months has been uncanny. I know this journey isn’t over… There will always be more to learn and more hurdles to jump. However, knowing that I am loved… Knowing that this is where Bruce has led me, brings me great peace.

It’s funny how those we love can still direct us even after they are gone. I have been following and exploring Bruce’s legacy for years. To this day, I am still unraveling and learning, and he is still influencing my life.

What about you? Have you ever found yourself reading their books, listening to their music or the things that influenced their lives? What have you learned? This journey can be so very hard, but it is even harder to bear alone. I believe we are in this together. None of us are alone, because we have each other. 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… Things You Taught Me, Part 2

As I mentioned last week, I went on a spiritual retreat a couple of weeks ago on the coast of Georgia. That week of quiet and deep self-reflection was such a blessing… I think the last time I felt so much healing in my soul was when Bruce was here… When he was such a vibrant part of my life… As I stated, I hope you will continue to humor me as I share a little bit more of what I experienced there and the impact it has had on my grief for Bruce and my on-going journey…

To give you a little bit of background, while I was baptized in the Methodist church as an infant, I actually spent my childhood and teen years in the Southern Baptist church and most of my adult life as a Roman Catholic. My experience in both was mostly one of religious rules and exclusivity… a “believe or burn” mentality. My experience was one of fear and distrust, but I didn’t know there was anything else out there. I knew I wasn’t perfect, but I thought I was doing okay… That is until Bruce died.

Then, I found I had a religion that couldn’t stand up to my questions… My world fell apart… How could a God who loved me, give this wonderful gift of a man and then just as quickly take it away? Why?

I wasn’t equipped with any real answers to that question, and so I become angry… very angry. My orderly world no longer made sense… The “Sunday School” answers weren’t enough… And I struggled. However, on this end of the story, I can tell you, that is a good thing, because I was forced to look at my faith and determine what I really believed, versus what I had been told to believe. It took me a long time, but day by day, I reassembled my faith from the ground up.

The funny thing is Bruce would never have told me what to believe or not believe. Instead, the way he chose to live his life and the legacy he left behind is really what helped me more than anything I had learned in my fifty years of religious practices. While Bruce’s death is probably the worst thing I have ever had to endure, it is also the thing that forced me down this path.

Last week I talked bout a dream I had early in this grief journey, in which Bruce told me that God is nothing like the God I had been taught to believe in all those years. God is so much more… But I still had so many unanswered questions…

Day 2 Reflections:
Hi Babe,

Wow! My mind is BLOWN! I swear it feels as if the speakers here have peered into my head and found all the crap… All the stuff that has been an obstacle with my faith… and now they say, “Nope, that really is crap… Let it go!” To take away the hierarchy of the trinity and temper all their qualities with love is what I have dreamed of… what I have needed… what you always lived… But I never knew how to articulate it.

When you died, I was so absolutely angry with God! Why didn’t he use his “power” to save you? Why did I have to be the one to fail at your CPR? What was the wisdom in that?

All my life I knew I had made mistakes, but I had asked for forgiveness – no! I had said I was sorry… I had never asked for forgiveness. I thought forgiveness had to come by proving how sorry I was. By proving I was worthy of it – by being devout enough… But I was told that God couldn’t love me or forgive me, because I didn’t understand “my place” … My lifestyle wasn’t “Christian enough.”

So, I learned to be quiet… Then, I stopped praying… Then, I stopped listening… Then, you died, Babe… And I was alone… all alone, and oh, so mad. There was nothing to love about God; nothing to trust. That is until you started me on my true spiritual journey, which has led me here… to this day and this class.

I feel so validated! I wanted to jump up in class this today and shout, “Did you hear this?! This is the good news! This is the most wondrous and exciting thing I have ever heard and understood!” The idea of the trinity – NO! The reality of the trinity being a balance of male/female, power, wisdom, goodness, and truth – all tempered in love… in all parts of the trinity in all things at all times is beyond my wildest thoughts!

This means I am in God (at all times), and God is in me (at all times), and God is in everything and every moment (at ALL times).

Do you realize what this also means???

God was with us, Babe, the night you died… God was in my tears and my horror as I watched you die in my arms. And God was in my anger… He held me when I railed against him and loved me when I cursed him. He held me tight when I begged him to take me too… But the problem wasn’t him… or me. It was my understanding of a gap between us that I couldn’t cross, and I felt like he refused to try… What a horrible thought. No wonder I was so angry.

And now, today, to realize there is no such gap… “There is no reality that is separate from what He created” ** … and “All shall be well, and All shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” *** This makes me feel hope.

I still grieve for you, Babe. I still don’t understand – but I trust God does care and loves me… Not only that, but more… Those are still “separation” thoughts. There is no separation – He is in me – experiencing all I have and will experience, just as much as He is in each tree and blade of grass. We are all his creation – we are all Him… We are all enfolded in his love and goodness, protected by his power and led by his wisdom.

What great news! Thank you, Babe for leading me here!

The healing that came in these days is amazing and powerful, as I came to realize so much of what Bruce had been trying to tell me all along. There was so much he showed me while he was here. Yet, it wasn’t until after his death that I finally “heard” him. He left a legacy that I am still unraveling and is still influencing my life… that is a blessing I never expected or knew could exist!

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

** Roberta Bondi

*** Julian of Norwich

Peace, Love and Grief… Things You Taught Me, Part 1

I spent this last week at a spiritual retreat on the coast of Georgia. What a blessing! It was a week of quiet and deep self-reflection. It was a time to think and process without all the noise of daily life and routines… And more important, it was a week of healing. Over the next few weeks, I hope you will humor me, as I share some of what I experienced there and how it has impacted my grief for Bruce and this path we call life…

I spent most of my life caught up in a religion of rules and exclusivity… A religion of “believe or burn” … a religion of fear and distrust… At least, that was the way I experienced it. While I had made my fair share of mistakes, I thought I was doing okay… I was trying to be “devout” and do the “right things.” Then Bruce died, and my world fell apart…

How could a God who loved me, give me this wonderful gift of a man and then just as quickly take it away? Why would he do that? What kind of love is that?

I struggled with those questions (and more)… My grief journey soon included not only my grief for the loss of Bruce, but also, a grief for the loss of my faith. Bruce was gone… My faith and trust in God were gone. I wanted Bruce back more than anything else, but my faith wasn’t something I wanted to think about… I was done.

However, several months later, I had a dream – a dream that started this journey and led me back home to a place in my soul where I had never been before.

Day 1 Reflections:

Hi Babe,
I am supposed to be thinking about whether or not I believe God made me for himself, and if I believe God is big enough for me… That is a big question.

Years ago, I would have said, “No.” After you died, the God I had been taught to believe in was not enough… because I was not enough. I didn’t believe he loved me as I was… And that led to more confusion. I couldn’t understand why he made me (or any of us) at all, if he couldn’t love me as he made me (flawed and imperfect). If I can love my own child – flaws and all, why couldn’t he do the same with me? So, no… I didn’t trust him – not at all.

Then in a dream, you told me, “God is not the God of your parents. He is so much more… And he loves you. He created all of you… each part, and he loves all of you.”

It took me years to move past a concrete religion to a spiritual faith… And you led me there, Babe. Through your legacy, you led me to speakers and books that slowly showed me a different way to believe in God. Now… finally, your statement made early in our relationship makes sense… “Yes,” you said, “I am a Christian, but not in the same way you are.” At the time, I prayed for your soul… When honestly, you had the answer I needed.

Thank you for being my teacher, especially over these past six years.

Dear God, my love,
Thank you for this morning. Thank you for a faith of connection and love versus do’s and don’ts/who’s in and who’s out. Thank you for all the things that led me to this place… on this day… with these people. I am here this week, learning that I am not alone… That is my miracle today, and I am so very thankful. It is so wonderful to know, I really can trust you, even when life feels like it is falling apart around me… I just had to find you. No, you found me (when I was ready). And as you told me, “Linda, don’t worry. If you miss me (and I did for so long), I will find you… And you did.
I love you… Always and Forever!

It’s funny how those we love can still direct us even after they are gone. Bruce left a legacy that I am still unraveling and is still influencing my life… That is a blessing I never expected or knew could exist!

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

Thank you.

Peace, Love and Grief… Where Life Takes Us

Time changes nothing on its own…
That is my job now.
This is a journey.
It is mine…
I must own it to survive it.
~ Linda, September 2013

This next week I will be traveling… heading to a spiritual retreat in GA. While normally I avoid being still for too long, this time I am looking forward to some down time – time to think and process without all the noise of daily life and routines. I know I am going to miss my family here and my home… And although this isn’t a long journey, I know that after a week, it will be a treat to return home.

This is the way life is…. filled with journeys – true journeys and metaphorical journeys. It is how we grow and learn and develop. It is how we discover new things about ourselves and how we expand our lives. In fact, when we suffer loss, what is it called? It is called a grief journey.

Like all other journeys, there is something to be learned, but unlike other journeys, I did not choose this one. It is not a path anyone would willingly take, but for those of us who find ourselves here, we didn’t have an option. In fact, now the only choices are to move forward or stand still. Many times along the way, I have hesitated, not quite willing to take the next step… Eventually, I do manage to take a breath and put one foot in front of the other… moving tentatively until I can get my bearings.

Life, itself, is a journey. It takes me where it will – sometimes there are choices and sometimes there is not… Some paths are scary, and others are absolutely amazing…

For Bruce and I, our journey started when we met while cruising in the Virgin Islands. Therefore, it only seemed fitting that throughout the years of our marriage, we did a lot of traveling. Like any journey, you learn a lot about a person when you travel with them. Bruce and I were no different.

We learned right away that traveling in a car together for any extended amount of time was not the best idea. Why? Well, Bruce did not snack at all while driving, and he liked it completely quiet. I, however, love to eat, drink, sing, talk, and play games. (In other words – I like to be entertained.)

I can remember a particular trip from Michigan to Alabama when I learned Bruce didn’t like opera. I was driving and he was napping (or trying to). So to fill the time, I sang opera the entire way. Guess who was not amused… Go figure! We both laughed about that one for years!

I have written several times about the night Bruce died. A few times, I mentioned the ride home from the hospital… alone. At the time, I remember thinking that this would be my life now… always coming home alone to no one. What I did not realize was the enormity of what that would entail. For years that was my life… And it was quite daunting. I can remember on many occasions sitting in the driveway in my car… Not wanting to walk inside to the overwhelming quiet that waited there for me.

The expanse of just how lonely this journey could be began to dawn on me in the early weeks after Bruce’s death. I would turn the corner and see Bruce’s truck still sitting there in the driveway. My first instinct was happiness and excitement. Bruce was home! Then, it would hit me full force, and I would remember… Bruce was not home; no one was home. The truck was still sitting there, because I hadn’t sold it yet.

However, months later after selling his truck, I learned that coming home still wasn’t any easier. In fact, even now there are days when I find myself wishing with all my heart that he would be there to greet me when I walk through the door. I no longer cry or breakdown, but I do secretly wish for all of this to be a dream… for him to be there waiting to greet me with a hug and a smile.

Flying together, however, was a different story. Those journeys were fantastic! We would always snuggle up. (Yes, we were that couple.) Sometimes, I would lay my head on his shoulder and snooze. Other times we would play games on his phone or share a set of headphones and listen to music together. For us, it didn’t matter what we did; what was important was the time spent together. It was our journey… together.

This last year, I found myself on another journey… Learning to manage the path of cancer was hard, and while I had some absolutely fantastic people by my side the whole way, traveling that path without Bruce by my side was the hardest part.

Thankfully, I am blessed to still live this space that was ours. This space where I can still feel Bruce’s presence all around me. Perhaps it sounds silly, but the comfort this space has brought me this past year felt a little like coming full circle on this journey.

I guess what I am saying is we have no control on where life takes us… Sure we make choices, but we don’t control the whole picture… We can’t foresee the bends and turns in the path ahead. In fact, the best we can do is to look for the blessings and be thankful for them, love the people around us and find comfort in the simple things life offers… And while I still trip up sometimes, that has become my goal… my way of moving forward through this journey.

I have learned a lot on this grief journey so far. At first, I was so angry, I was resistant to learning anything. What in the world did I need to learn alone that I couldn’t learn with Bruce by my side? However, in time I have come to learn that isn’t the point. It wasn’t about Bruce and I being together until the end of our lives. Instead, it was about us being together and loving each other until the end of his life. I know we will be together again one day, but my life isn’t over.

My journey of love with Bruce taught me so much… My journey of grief has also taught me a lot, and Bruce still gets credit for that. Why? Because when he died, he left a beautiful legacy in his wake.

I constantly find myself trying to learn more about who he was and what made him tick by experiencing all the things I took for granted while he was here. I love to read his “go-to” books, listen to his music and try doing the things he enjoyed. I love finding notes he scribbled in the margins of books, on cards or just scraps of paper tucked inside something.

The funny part is while I am doing all those things, in my quest to understand him, I usually end up learning so much more about myself. I have learned that there is still so much more out there for me. As long as I have breath, l have a purpose… Without a doubt, I know I still have so much to learn and so much more to give back wherever life should take me…

What about you? Where are you on your journey? Where has life taken you? What have you learned? We all know this journey is hard, but it is even harder to bear alone. I believe we are in this together. None of us are alone, because we have each other. 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