Tag: peace

Peace, Love and Grief… Remembering a Father

“No one is forgotten as long as there are two people – one to tell the story and another to listen.” ~ Diana Gabaldon, Drums of Autumn

When I read this quote this week, all I could think was “Yes!” … That is why I write this every week. Well, to be honest, I write for many reasons. I write for my own emotional release… I write to help others understand one perspective of the grief experience… And I write so that Bruce is not forgotten… so that his story will always exist somewhere… He was real. He loved us. And we loved him… I loved him… I still love him.

So, on this Father’s Day, despite everything going on around me, that is what I want to think about today… him. I read recently that all families have stories of origin – of how they came to be. For many families, these are the stories that are told around the table or shared at family gatherings. This is that story for us… The story of the man who became a real father to my children.

His Love
A love that is pure
A love that sees who you CAN be,
Not who you are in that moment.
A love with no strings attached;
No conditions, no rules…
Just a love that is,
From a man who embodied love…
pure, complete love.
~ Linda, November 24, 2013

Because Bruce and I were not married until later in life, we both came to the marriage with our own children. His daughter at the time was about the same age as my youngest. She was (and still is) a beautiful young woman with a gentle heart. I brought four children into our marriage. At the time, two were college age and two were in high school. Obviously, I think the moon was hung just for them, but I’m a little partial.

So, when I tell this story, I am not talking about genetics or biology. I am talking about a man who grew to love my kids unconditionally – no judgement, no preconceived ideas, or expectations – nothing but love. This is our family’s story… Another piece of Bruce’s story… A story I can tell because I was there. This is the story of a man who came into our lives for just a brief moment in time and changed everything we thought we knew about families and fathers.

However, to understand his impact, let me back up a little bit…

When I left my children’s biological father, my intent was to get my children out of a dysfunctional and unsafe home. All I wanted was to see them safe and protected. The court psychologist agreed and recommended no visitation or parental rights for my ex-husband. There is a lot more to this but suffice it to say that my ex agreed not to fight it, if he could walk away with 2/3 of our assets. I agreed… Essentially, I bought a life of peace and safety for my children, and it was the best deal I ever made.

After the divorce, I wasn’t looking for anyone or any type of relationship. However, when I met Bruce, all my plans flew out the window. We had an instant connection, and ten months later, we were married. However, because we had lived 1000 miles apart, my kids hadn’t had a lot of time to get to know him very well. They had met him and knew who he was, but they didn’t really know him… not yet.

I wanted things to work for our new family, so I started researching and reading everything I could find on step-parenting and blended families. I wanted so badly for everything to go well. Everything I read said it would take at least two years for our family to develop the relationships and new roles needed to function as a true family… and that was if things went well.

Bruce, on the other hand, had watched his own daughter struggle for years in a step-family relationship. He had his own concept of how he wanted to do this and (as far as I know) never read a single thing about step-families. Yet, he knew exactly what to do, and he did it consistently. He never pushed, and he never tried to be their father. He just spent his time being available… available to talk or listen or whatever they needed.

My kids had been through a lot… Their expectations were… Well, honestly, I couldn’t tell you what their expectations were – maybe they had no expectations. However, I can tell you that it didn’t take long before Bruce’s gentle spirit and unconditional acceptance of who they were captured their hearts and helped heal so many hurts. I can also tell you that within six months, our family was a solid unit with my kids referring to Bruce as their father… In other words – he was amazing!

Those few months are what this story is about… It is the story of how Bruce went from being a father of one to a father of five without missing a beat…

When I had moved to Michigan to marry Bruce, my youngest daughter was the only one to come with me. My oldest daughter had recently graduated college and was just starting out on her own. My second daughter was away at college. And my son was in the middle of his senior year, already 18 and did not want to move… So, to say my youngest daughter was angry about the whole situation would be an understatement.

The night we arrived in Michigan, Bruce was so excited we were there. After two days of traveling, we arrived at his door tired and hungry. He greeted the two of us with smiles and hugs. My daughter pushed him aside, went straight to her new room, shut the door and remained there. I apologized to Bruce, but he only smiled and gave the same response I would hear for the next few months, “There is nothing to apologize for… She is angry, and I can understand that. Besides, my shoulders are big enough to take it.”

Much later, (years later), I learned he had left her a note on her bed that night saying just about the same thing. He told her that he was not trying to replace anyone or be her Dad. But he was here, and he would always be here… for her… no matter what.

When she tells this story, she will tell you that she tore that note up immediately. She will also tell you that she put his words to the test… and let me tell you, she did. She tried everything to make him not like her… much less love her. But he was true to his word… he never wavered, no matter what she tried. The amazing part happened several months later on Father’s Day…

By this time, Bruce and I had known each other for about a year and a half and had been married for just 7 months. While my other kids were developing their own (positive) relationships with Bruce, my youngest had been giving him quite a run for his money. In fact, by this point, we were both resigned to the idea that this “family” thing might take a while… A looong while…

But, as they say, “Fate moves in mysterious ways.” Bruce and I had gone to church that morning, and when we returned home, there was my youngest with a tray of homemade cookies and a card on top for “Dad.” As she handed the tray to him, she sheepishly asked him if it was okay. Instantly, he pulled her into a great, big bear hug, as we all wiped the tears out of our eyes.

For me, my love for Bruce grew even more (as if that were possible) in that moment. After all, how can a woman not love a man who loves her children like his own. But, how did he manage to do that? How did he make such a significant difference in such a brief time?

He did it by being Bruce… By being himself… a big, gentle giant of a man with a heart that would not quit. Over the short time we were together, he built positive relationships with each of my kids. With my oldest (who was already a young adult), it was a peaceful, friendly relationship. I remember on one visit she introduced us to her neighbor as her mom and dad. The neighbor said, “Wow, you look just like your dad.” She didn’t try to correct him or explain. Instead, she and Bruce just smiled like Cheshire cats and hugged each other tight.

My second daughter and Bruce were tight from the very first time they met. She had picked him up at the airport near her college and driven him the two hours back home to see me. During that drive, she told him that she was glad to see her mom so happy, and she really liked him. Then, she went on to tell him that if he ever broke my heart or hurt me, she would “open a can of ‘whoop-a$$’ on him.” He used to laugh when he told that story, because she isn’t much taller than me and just as petite. He absolutely loved her fire and energy for life, and they were best buds from that day forward.

When her son was born, he also instantly bonded with his “Papa.” They would play and “hang out” for hours. In Bruce’s eyes, that boy could do no wrong. To this day, my grandson still talks about his Papa, and insists that his Papa is his guardian angel, (which makes me smile). The bond between those two is so strong it even seems to transcend this life.

My son was with me on the cruise when Bruce and I met. He was the world’s best chaperone on that trip. I love to tell the story of when he saw Bruce holding my hand. He was so serious, (but it completely cracked me up), when he commented, “I saw that man holding your hand… A little cheeky, don’t you think?” Cheeky?? What 17-year-old says, “cheeky?”

Within no time, though, my son let his guard down and stopped trying to “protect” his mom. It didn’t take long for the two of them to build a solid relationship. A relationship which was such a blessing for my son. For the first time, he had the experience of a healthy, male role model and friend… a man to show him “how to be a good and caring man”… a man to show him how to treat a woman… all things I could never do as his mother.

From the beginning, Bruce was willing to do whatever was needed to move our family forward… anything from teaching teenagers to drive and helping with homework to offering unconditional love and acceptance as they tried to figure out how they each fit into this world. It was an amazing experience! How could a woman not love a man who loves her children so completely? And what did we give to Bruce in return? A family… a big family… and all the love and craziness that comes with that.

That was my husband… That was the man who became my children’s father… That was the man who built this family. That is the man I refuse to forget and whose stories I love to tell. So as another Father’s Day comes and goes, I will tell you what I have told Bruce every year…

“Thank you, Babe, for being a Dad to my kids… being a Dad is so much more than biology… It is a life-long commitment. Thank you for stepping into their lives and showing them what a healthy man and a healthy marriage looks like. Thank you for loving us all unconditionally – no judgement, no preconceived expectations – nothing but love. You were the missing piece in our family. In our short time together, you taught us so much and brought healing where we did not think it was possible. You forever changed our lives. I have told you every day and I will say it again, ‘You are my hero and I will love you forever!‘”

Learning to navigate through this journey is different for everyone… We all move through it at our own pace and in our own way… and we each have our memories that bring tears and the memories that make us smile… each one precious in its own way. What better way to remember and honor those we love than by sharing their stories? What are some of your favorite memories? What are the stories you love to tell so that your loved one is not forgotten? If you aren’t ready to share your stories or you are someone who needs a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. *

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Are You Still Crying?

“People think I have survived your leaving. What they don’t understand is that I have to relearn how to survive each day. Because each day you’re still gone.” ~ Unknown

I came across this quote a few weeks ago, and I can’t seem to let it go… The truth within it keeps it playing over and over in my mind. Last week I touched on this when I said that most people who have met me in the last few years aren’t even aware of mine and Bruce’s relationship. Oh, they know I was married, and they know his name was Bruce… But the relationship? They have no clue what that was like or how I was back then… They have no idea how hard losing him has been, or how I have changed since he died.

In their mind, (and I believe in most people’s minds) I have survived this loss, and life has moved on… But honestly, it hasn’t. In fact, I believe most people would be surprised to know I still hurt, and I still cry. Sure, I have learned to laugh and enjoy life again. However, that is because I have learned to push the sadness back. I learned to keep my emotions to myself. If and when I need to cry, I do that when I am alone… Even my closest friends and family rarely see that side of me.

Is that the best thing to do? Keep it in? I don’t know. Probably not, but I can’t live my whole life sad and crying. I want to enjoy my life… So, for now, I have to put those emotions up on a shelf most of the time so I can smile and live and appreciate all the people around me. However, even though I am ignoring them, I still know those emotions are there. The pain of his loss is still very real. I still wake up every morning and am reminded that Bruce is gone, and I am here… alone. Some days that is harder to handle than others… I don’t know why… It just is.

I also know it’s not healthy or realistic to hold that inside all the time. I know I need to get those emotions out every now and then, even if that means finding some space alone and letting myself cry. It’s not an everyday thing or even every week thing, but there are still times when the emotions bubble over, and I know…

These last few months have been stressful, and the past few weeks even more so. I would give anything to have Bruce here. He exuded confidence and strength… Just being in his presence made me feel safe and secure. I have missed that. I haven’t really let myself cry though… not a big “let it all out” kind of cry… Not yet. I’ve shed a tear or two here and there. I’ve looked at his picture and wished more than anything he were here. I’ve talked to him and asked him to watch over us… To let me know he is around (and he does).

That being said, I know the “big” cry is coming. I can feel it… I need it. For the past few weeks, I have found myself just wanting to let go… Needing to let go… Resenting myself for holding it in and needing to give myself permission to give in and let it out. It is reaching the point where I would do anything to feel better… even cry.


Life moves on.
Time passes.
But my heart stands still.
Lost in a space
Where I can still hear your voice:
Where your smile still greets mine;
Frozen in this space
Where you should be…
But you aren’t.
~ Linda, January 2020

These past few weeks have been a hard for all of us… Not just for me, but for this nation as a whole. We have all had to dig deep and decide what we stand for… Which means it has also been a week of questions and insecurities… For me, that is one of many triggers for missing Bruce. But I also know that we all have known pain and we all need to be heard and understood. What are your triggers? How are you dealing with the deep emotions all around us these days? What do you need us to hear today? What do you need us to understand? We would love to hear your story and share a virtual hug. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. * Who knows… your story may the answer for someone else.

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Who Am I?

Who am I?

That’s a good question, and honestly, my answer used to depend on the day and how I was feeling. Nowadays, though, it depends on who is listening…

There was a time in my life, when I would describe who I was by saying, “—‘s wife” or “—‘s mom.” It was a time when I was lost somewhere in someone else’s identity. In truth, I was a stay-at-home wife and mother. I also homeschooled four children and directed multiple choirs – both choir and community. Years later, even though I still described myself as “—‘s wife” or “—‘s mom,” I was a teacher at a small, Catholic school. Yet, somehow, I was still identifying myself by the people around me.

After my divorce, I began to see myself differently. I began to recognize me… who I was as a human being… Not just my family or what I did for a living, but all the parts of me – my faith, my passions, my feelings, my thoughts… The whole package. I spent time getting alone and asking myself hard questions – not allowing myself to answer with “I don’t know.”

These were good changes and helped to build up my self-value. So, by the time I met Bruce, I was ready. I knew who I was and what I thought. Not that I was stuck there… There was a need for healing and certainly room for growth, but those are probably ongoing items for most us, right? Throughout my marriage to Bruce, he encouraged that growth. He liked that I was strong and independent. He was never intimidated by me keeping my own name or my own bank account. No matter what, he was always there cheering me on to be stronger. He was never trying to make me “better” … just a stronger “me.”

I didn’t describe myself as “Bruce’s wife” anymore than he described himself as my husband. Yes, we were married, but we were both strong, independent people who simply wanted to share our lives with each other. However, neither of us had the need to overwhelm the other in our relationship… Neither of us needed to drown out the other.

Then, he was gone… And in that moment, my world imploded. All that “strength” I thought I possessed went right out the window. I was like a child wondering around in the dark – lost, alone, and scared to death. The first few weeks were spent in shock – just feeling numb. I managed to go through the motions of everyday life, but inside it felt like I was dead, too. I didn’t know how to keep going and there were many days when I didn’t want to… It took every bit of strength just to keep breathing.

I remember a particular day, about a week after Bruce died. I was at the pharmacy up the road picking up a couple of things, when I noticed two elderly women. They shuffled past me in the aisle talking about how lonely they were at home and how hard it was to live alone. Then, it dawned on me… They were widows… And worse, I, too, was a widow. I fought the idea… I couldn’t be a widow! Widows are elderly. They have gray hair. They need help. How could I be a widow?? No, this was not possible.

I know I’m a weird cookie, but I actually went home and started doing a little bit of research on widows. I learned that the average age of widows in the US is 56… 56!!! I was a little bit younger than that at the time, but still… That was not anywhere near my own ideas of what a widow was. Despite my own reality, I struggled to wrap my brain around it.

It seemed so weird to think that I was a widow… That was now a part of who I was. Then, I did this really weird (awkward) thing. Whenever I introduced myself and gave that brief “speech” of who I was, I always included the fact that I was a widow. Somehow that had now become who I was. Yes, it was a part of me, but I let it completely take over… And let me tell you, those four little words, “I am a widow,” can silence a room and stop a conversation before the words are completely out. I feel terrible about it now, but it was part of what I was going through. Maybe it was my way of trying to accept it myself. Maybe it came out because it was all I could think about 24/7. Who knows??

I do know that with time, I stopped making that a part of my “who am I” talk. Eventually, I became aware of just how awkward those few words made people… And I get it… What can you say to that?? There is nothing really that can make it right. And if you are just meeting someone, is that really what they need to know? So, I learned to keep that to myself. I learned to keep most of my thoughts and emotions limited to my journal and this space. I learned that even with people who knew about my loss, it was an awkward conversation. So, unless they specifically asked and I could look in their eyes and know their questions were genuine, I just learned not to talk about it. Don’t misunderstand… I still talked about Bruce a lot, just not the pain of losing him. Bruce’s death, my greatest loss, was something that I needed to keep to myself for the most part.

Now… These were my choices. This was how I chose to deal with it, and I don’t in any way put those decisions on anyone else. I am only sharing it because of something that happened recently… Actually, something that has happened quite a bit recently.

Life has moved forward. Many of the people that knew me then have either moved away or taken new jobs, so our time together is less than it was. You know what I mean – it’s just life. Most of the people who are close to me now, didn’t know me then. They never saw the joy I had when Bruce was alive or the pain of losing him. They never saw me wear black for months on end or heard me say I couldn’t keep going. They never saw me crying day after day or know that I practically stopped eating for years. Those are all things they don’t know… will never know.

But all those things… losing Bruce… shaped me in a way that nothing else ever has. It has left me with a hole somewhere in my soul, while at the same time given me an appreciation for just how precious this life is.

So, what happened, you ask?

Well, it’s not any one thing. Instead it is just casual conversations… Conversations about heartbreak when boyfriends and girlfriends break up and how “there is nothing worse” … Trust me – there is! Conversations about funerals – what they feel is acceptable and what isn’t. Please, trust me when I say, you don’t know what you will do until you have to do it. Conversations about other new widows and judgement about what they are or are not doing. Please, please, please, trust me – don’t judge what you don’t know. And the list goes on…

Each time one of these conversations has happened, I have been torn. I don’t know if I should feel guilty or good that they are so oblivious to my situation in regards to the things they say.

Should I remind them that I, too, have had my heart ripped out, had to plan a funeral that should never have happened so soon, and have made millions of mistakes on this “new normal” path called widowhood. Or… do I stay quiet and let them say whatever they feel they need to say. Have I done a disservice to Bruce or to them by not saying anything? Have I dishonored Bruce somehow by the simple fact that they don’t remember I am a widow, too? I know that they are aware, but does it ever factor into their thoughts when they are talking? Or does that the fact that I go on with my life lead them to believe it doesn’t hurt anymore? And finally, would it make a difference if I did say anything, or would it just make things awkward?

For me, at this point in time, I choose to stay silent. Things might change tomorrow, but for today, this is where I am. I have this blog, and I have a few people that I know I can turn too when the pain gets to be too much. While I have to be honest with myself and acknowledge that being a widow really IS a part of who I am, I know it doesn’t end there. I, also, believe there is some good to be found in everything and everything happens for a reason, even those things that bring us the most pain, and even if I don’t understand it at the time. There is also one other thing I know without a doubt… While this is something I would never, ever wish on anyone, if the time should ever come when anyone around me finds themselves on this path, struggling to figure out how they got here and how to move forward, I will be here for them… And I will understand and have compassion for their pain because of this “widow” part of who I am.

This week has been a hard one for this nation. It has been a week of hard questions and a lot of asking myself “who am I” and what do I stand for… Love and compassion – that is what I stand for. Understanding that we all have known pain and we all need to be heard and understood. Understanding that I can’t understand, but I want to listen. What about your? What about your story? What do you need us to hear today? What do you need us to understand? We would love to hear your story and share a virtual hug. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. * Who knows… your story may the answer for someone else.

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief – A Rich Legacy

Seven years, four months, nine days, and fifteen hours since Bruce died… But who’s counting, right? … I am! That’s who! This has been the hardest seven-plus years of my life… And yet, it has also been years of great growth for me… Thanks to Bruce.

Bruce was always such a spiritual person. Religion was not his thing, although he would go to church with me if I asked. His thing was finding a way to live a peaceful, love-filled life. He often tried to share his thoughts with me, but shamefully, I wasn’t as open to his thoughts as he was to mine. I has been raised to believe my way was the right one, so I felt that I was the one on “solid God ground.”

Now, don’t get me wrong, for years I had felt frustrated with the “church” and had already been burned several times. However, I had been carefully taught from the time I was born that this was “the way.” This was the only way, so I hung on. Granted, I kept to the back and the side edges, but I hung in there… Until one day, I just couldn’t.

There were too many things that didn’t fit – too many frustrations and questions where the only answer seemed to be “You’re wrong. Be a good girl, and believe what you’re told, or you can’t be one of us.” … But I couldn’t – not anymore.

This was just a few short months before Bruce died… I remember running out of the church service in tears and crying for days. In fact, I cried so much and so hard, I actually gave myself two black eyes. To know that I needed to walk away from the one thing – the one institution – that had been a part of my life, a part of my identity, for my entire life was more than heartbreaking… I felt like a part of my soul had died.

But who do you think was there in all his kindness and love to hold me as I hurt? Yep, it was Bruce.

At first, he encouraged me to take a breath and try again. He knew how entwined my identity was with my religion… But that’s the thing… It was my religion, not my faith. I just didn’t understand that yet, although I’m pretty sure he did.

About this time, I noticed him reading The Tao of Pooh (for about the millionth time since I had known him). For the first time, I was ready to hear his thoughts, so I asked what it was about, and… could I read it too? I remember him handing me the book as he said, “It’s not a religion. I won’t replace what you feel you’ve lost. It’s simply a philosophy – nothing more. It’s just a way of looking at life. It can enhance what you think you know, but that’s it.”… And he was right.

We spent the next few weeks talking about the book… Talking about the characters and who they reminded us of… and (more importantly) who reminded us of ourselves. Bruce was definitely Pooh, accepting life as it came, and without a doubt, I was Piglet, always worrying about anything and everything.

In fact, I was a little a little worried that by reading that book (and liking it), I was somehow being “bad.” However, it didn’t take long at all to see that this book really did enhance my faith – nothing more and (thankfully) nothing less. In our conversations, where Bruce mostly listened, I would go on and on about how relevant this was to what I already believed. It was such an enlightening experience to separate my faith from what had been my religion.

One night, as we lay in bed snuggling, I remember fretting over some little bit of nothing. Bruce kissed me, pulled me closer, and said, “Stop worrying, Piglet… It’s time to sleep,” – a gentle reminder to let it go and let life happen. A few short hours later, Bruce was gone… dead… and my life went into a tailspin. I felt so lost… so abandoned… so absolutely alone.

Where was God in all this? Why had he allowed this? Why didn’t he comfort me through this? Why couldn’t I feel him near me? Isn’t that what I had always been told or read?

I pleaded, but couldn’t find any comfort from God… So then, I got angry… very angry. When people told me “this is God’s plan” or that “Bruce was in a better place” or, my favorite (insert sarcasm), “God needed another angel,” it just pissed me off even more. Honestly, I stayed mad for a long time… I yelled at God. I cursed at God. I pitched full-blown temper tantrums at God… Until I was too exhausted to be mad any more.

Then, I got still… very still… In fact, Psalm 46:10, “Be still and know that I am God” became my mantra. (Weird, huh after months of being so angry?) Here’s the thing – I fully believe (and have believed all my life) that God is so connected to us he understands our emotions, and his shoulders are big enough to handle my anger. Shoot, if he is an “all-powerful, all-knowing, all-everything” God, then isn’t he also “all-suffering?” Doesn’t he understand and share my pain and grief? … I think so.

Once I got quiet long enough to listen, it was Bruce’s voice I heard first… His quiet beliefs on how to live life – “as it comes.” And that is where my real quest began, because out of the absolute destruction of my life, a beautiful experience began to grow…

It started with me listening to the speakers Bruce listened to and reading the books he read. The more I listened and read, the more I learned… about Bruce and what made him tick… about how he was able to live his life the way he did. This opened my heart and mind to understanding more and more about who or what God is (at least, to me). I began to realize that God really is everywhere – in every thing and every person… to understand that no one person or group could lay claim to “owning God,” which I believe was what Bruce was trying to say all along.

Bruce lived a life of compassion and unconditional love. I know he didn’t agree with everything or everyone. I know he got hurt and frustrated… but I also know he didn’t hate anything or anyone either. He had a way of accepting people where they were, and moving forward from there. I have never known anyone to live a more “Christ-like” existence… No judgement, no “holier-than-thou,” no “my way is the right way” … just acceptance, love, compassion, and absolute graciousness… And now, I was beginning to understand how he got there.

For the last two years, I have been blessed even more by this legacy of his. I have come to know other people like Bruce… Other like-minded people who also believe that our faith/spiritual path is not defined or limited by religion. People who also believe God is about love, relationships, and compassion… And can be found in all religions and people. While I may be comfortable identifying as “Christian” (although there are a hundred definitions for that), someone else is just as comfortable identifying as a Muslim or Hindu. Yet, no matter what we call ourselves, we can all find a beautiful space… a common ground where we learn to see God in each other.

All of this has led me to another thought… Something that is also close to my heart… Just as there is no one right religion, there is no one right way to grieve either! I have spent years being told how to grieve:
• Take your time – hurry up.
• Clean out his stuff – keep his stuff.
• Date – don’t date.
• Keep his pictures displayed – put his pictures away.
• Talk about him – don’t talk about him.
And the list goes on…

If you have ever grieved the loss of a loved one, I am sure you know what I mean. I would bet you have heard some form of it, because no matter how you grieve, there is someone who would do it different… There is someone who believes their way is the right way… the best way… and you should do it their way. To that, all I can say is, “Nope!” Let’s be real… We are all different with different experiences, personalities, and viewpoints… Each of us has to figure out the best way for ourselves – not anyone else. After all, we are unique and different, which means we will all find answers and comfort in various sources… and that’s a good thing.

If nothing else, I believe Bruce left me a beautiful legacy – not just a spiritual one, but one that encourages me to look at the world around me and experience it with love and compassion… One that allows me to see God (however I define that) in all different forms and people… One that says “Be compassionate, even to yourself… Grieve as you need to grieve, and love life however it comes.”

I am only sharing my thoughts this week… a thankfulness for all I learned (and continue to learn) from the man who changed my world for the better. What about you? What kind of legacy did your loved one leave for you? We would love to hear from you. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. * Who knows… your story may the answer for someone else.

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief – Grief is Grief… And That’s Okay

“Grief is the pain you feel when you lose something you care about.” – Dr. John Delony, Dave Ramsey Show

Listening to Dave Ramsey is something I do when I am in the car. Bruce introduced me to his financial plan when we were first married, and I was hooked immediately. Because of his plan, I paid off our home in eight years and should be set to retire on time despite the financial set-backs in my 40’s.

So why am I talking about Dave Ramsey here? Because the other day when I tuned in, he was talking to Dr. John Delony about “Dealing with the Disappointment of Canceled Plans and Missed Milestones,” a recent blog on his website.* Now, I will just warn you, while he has great financial advice, in my opinion, Dave doesn’t come across as the nicest guy on the block… To put it bluntly, I would never call into his show, because he scares me. However, when he is talking calmly, I truly like what he has to say.

So, when I tuned in, the first thing I heard was the quote above. Grief? Why in the world was “grief” being discussed on a financial program? I missed the beginning so I honestly couldn’t tell you, but what they were saying definitely struck a cord with me. They were discussing all the things we are missing out on due to the current pandemic situation. (Don’t worry… I’m not getting political here.) Dave was saying how disappointed he was about the milestones and vacations his family had missed out on. Then, he went to say how guilty he felt about that, especially when so many people are dealing with things that are much, much worse, such as losing jobs, no income, illness and death.

Honestly, I could relate to that too. I was very disappointed when I had to cancel my April trip I had planned for Bruce’s birthday. I made staying home work, but I was still disappointed. The thing was, I felt silly being so disappoint for the very reasons he named.

Then, Dr. Delony reiterated and said, “Don’t feel guilty… You feel what you feel… Grief is the pain you feel when you lose something you care about. That thing might be a trip or missing a milestone or it might even be a death.” He talked about how it wasn’t a competition… Grief is Grief… You feel what you feel and that’s okay.

Boy was he right! I immediately began to think back to those days shortly after Bruce died…

Back then, while some people may have said things that really weren’t helpful, for the most part, I know they meant well. I know their hearts were in the right place, and mostly, I have forgotten about them. However, there were some things said that to this day still get under my skin. Those were the comments where comparisons about grief were made… Where I was made to feel that I wasn’t valid to be grieving because “obviously” someone else had it worse.

One of the first ones I encountered was when someone asked me how I was doing. I responded that “this” was hard. I was okay, but still missing Bruce terribly. Then, they asked how Bruce’s Mom was doing. I responded that I thought she was struggling… Burying your own child is a horrific thing that no one should ever have to do. To all of this, the person responded, “You two need to remember that y’all are not the only ones to ever lose someone you love.” (Of course, as they said this, their spouse stood by their side and all their children were alive and well.)
Seriously? Were they really saying that we shouldn’t grieve because we weren’t the only ones to ever lose someone we love?? What kind of response is that? Because our loss isn’t something new or different, it wasn’t valid?? That was ridiculous!

There was another incident about 3 months after Bruce passed. The son of a sweet friend was killed in a motorcycle accident. It was horrible! He was young and full of life. Then, on a beautiful afternoon, as he was stopped at a stop sign, a truck took a turn too wide and hit him. He hung on for several days as we all prayed and his mother stayed by his side… But sadly, he didn’t make it. My friend’s grief and pain were too much… To say it was awful would be a huge understatement.

Yet, a few days later, someone came up to me and said, “Well, your grief can’t be nearly as much as hers. You only lost your husband. You can get remarried. She can never replace her son.” I was stunned! First of all, who ever said grief was a competition? No one else has any idea how deep another person’s pain is… And just for the record… No one can be replaced… ever!

My friend has another son… does he “replace” the son she lost? Of course not! My first child was still-born. Did my other children “replace” that tiny baby boy? No! At this point, I haven’t dated, but even if I did, would that person really replace Bruce? Never! That is a ludicrous idea! Each person in our lives holds a special place in our heart that only they can fill – you can’t replace them!

A few years ago, I noticed a friend at work wiping tears from her eyes. So, I asked if she was okay. She wasn’t… Her dog, who had been her only companion for many years had died the day before. Then she told me that she felt silly asking for time off to grieve her dog. Plus, she “felt terrible crying to me because I had lost my husband, while she had ‘only’ lost her dog.” I remember holding her and reassuring her that her loss was just as important and painful for her as mine had been for me… There was no judgement – only a friend caring for a friend who was hurting.

Which brings me back to the idea of comparing grief… Don’t! That’s really all I can say… Don’t!

It’s a horrible thing to do. All of us lose things that are important to us… Sometimes it is a thing, such as a canceled trip, a missed event, or a special reminder of a day gone by… Sometimes it is a job or our home or the security of our family… Maybe it is a pet or a friend or a loved one who either walks out of our life voluntarily, or maybe they pass away. Yes… for each of us, some of these things may hurt more or longer than other things. However, we don’t know what is in someone else’s heart… Even if we knew the person they lost, our relationship with that person would have been different, so we still have no way of knowing their pain.

So… I guess my point is don’t deny anyone – you or someone else – the chance to grieve. It is an important part of healing and/or coming to a peaceful place about the loss… Whatever that loss may be. Own your grief and allow others to own theirs… If you must do something try supporting each other… loving each other… And just allow the grief to run its course naturally. I believe that is the best way to help someone heal and move forward.

* https://www.daveramsey.com/blog/how-to-deal-with-disappointment

Peace, Love and Grief… And It’s Mother’s Day Again

Happy Mother’s Day!

I cannot tell you how much I used to hate those words… After the chaos of my first marriage, I carried way to much guilt to feel like I should be celebrated at all. My kids had to deal with so much crap within that chaos, and I couldn’t bear the idea of any of them telling me “thank you” for their childhood or for being their mom. I made so many mistakes when they were growing up, and I struggled to forgive myself.

This was a struggle for me for years, although my kids would always disagree. For whatever reason, they seem to understand so many of the decisions I made back then… And they stood strong when we left. Through the years, we had learned to survive as a team, and when we left, that only intensified. In other words, my kids are amazing! They are the reason I can toast today and still smile.

It’s funny, though… Because when I look back, the first Mother’s Day with Bruce is another that will always stand out. Not just because it was my first Mother’s Day with Bruce, but because of the healing that he encouraged through his love…

We had only known each other a little over a year and had only been married for a few months. I had absolutely no expectations for the day. After all, I wasn’t his mother or the mother of his child. Yes, when he married me, that was a package deal which included my children, but three of the four were over 18. My youngest was the only one that lived with us… and at the time, she wasn’t very happy about that.

I remember waking up that Sunday morning, and the sun was shining in Michigan – something we hadn’t seen in months. As we lay in the bed snuggling, he reached over the edge and produced a small card which he handed to me with a mischievous grin. I remember handing it back and saying, “Don’t.” I wasn’t crying or upset, I just wanted to ignore the day. I didn’t want anyone to celebrate me… But he wasn’t having any of that.

I protested and said, “You don’t have to do this… My being a mother has nothing to do with you.” To which he replied, “You’re being a mother is a huge part of who you are, and that has everything to do with me. I will always celebrate who you are, because I love you… And that means all of you.”

I remember the card talked about his love for me and my love for my kids. I remember the tears pouring down my face as I read it, and in the end, he had to read it to me. Inside, was a receipt for three tickets to go see The Phantom of the Opera that afternoon (Bruce, my youngest daughter and myself) … Tickets? To the Opera?? From Bruce???

Now, I need to explain a little bit about Bruce. He made no pretense about who he was. He was a truck driver who loved body building, football and hockey. He was not a fan of the theater, especially musicals or opera. The idea that a man had gone outside of his own comfort zone to give me (and participate in) something that was solely about me was something I had never experienced before.

I remember being skeptical – Would he really go? Was he going to take me but ruin it because it really wasn’t anything he would ever want to do? … I questioned all of it.

However, true to who he was, it was the most wonderful afternoon! He made it a true event – nothing was off limits… and to top it all off, he swore he loved and enjoyed it, as well! Whether that last part was really true or not, I’ll never know. He always swore it was, and so I will take him at his word.

Every year after that, Bruce always made it a point to celebrate me on Mother’s Day. It didn’t matter where we were or what life had thrown our way, he always made sure we spent the day doing something I loved. After he died, that first Mother’s Day was hard. I didn’t want to celebrate… I found myself going back to those feelings old of guilt about my children’s past. But I must say, my kids wouldn’t have it. They did and continue to make this day a special one…

And this year was no different…

A couple of years ago, I was just diagnosed with breast cancer and didn’t know what my future would hold, or if I would even see another Mother’s Day… But here I am – sassy as ever and loving life! And… In less than an hour, I will be celebrating with three of my four children. (My oldest lives in Europe, so we will talk this afternoon. Thanks to technology!)

I am so grateful to my kids for the joy and love they add to my life. I know that each moment we live is the only one we are promised. Life is crazy with its twists and turns… You just never know what lies ahead. In other words, life has its own way, and all we can do is go along for the ride. I can’t change what was nor what is ahead. I can only live in this moment… soaking it all in and remembering to be thankful for what it is…

Everyone deals with loss, grief, and life in their own way. There are pieces of our past we might change if we could. However, since we can’t change any of that, we can either get caught up in the stuff we don’t like or choose to find moments worth celebrating. Bruce taught me to celebrate and let the rest go… We don’t need to always be happy, and it’s okay to feel what we feel and be who we are… This is how life was meant to be – learning to let go of what feels wrong and celebrating the good.

These are only my thoughts and reactions this week as I celebrate this day without Bruce. Maybe something in this feels familiar… Perhaps you too have struggled something similar. If so, we are here, you are not alone. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. *

Who knows… your story may the answer for someone else.

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… The Good Old Days

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, that was my world this week. I apologize for not posting last week. I don’t often miss a week, but life got a little crazy, and priorities had to be handled. I don’t know if you can relate to my thoughts on the “good old days” and those simple moments or maybe this is something you are experiencing as well. Either way, I would love to hear from you. What were the simple moments that made up your good old days? Which simple moments do you miss most? If you would like to share your thoughts or experience or if you need a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. * Who knows… your story may the answer for someone else.

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Your Birthday

Happy Birthday, Bruce!

Bruce’s birthday was this past week. When we were married, we always celebrated on the Alabama coast with his folks. After he died, I always spent it at the beach – either the one here or I would travel to another beach somewhere… But always at a beach somewhere. That was “our” space – any beach, anywhere…

This year, however, with all the Covid-19 restrictions, the beaches here are closed, and all rentals canceled. So, there was no traveling this year, and no going to our beach either. For days beforehand, I was really down. In the past, I have always made sure the day was about honoring his life and all the things he loved… somehow, I felt like I was failing him.

In the days beforehand, my daughter suggested I create my own “beach” here in the backyard. “Kind of silly,” I thought, “but why not.” So, I ordered a few items and waited…

Journal:
Happy birthday, Babe! Well, it hasn’t felt like much of a birthday. (Of course, I know a lot of people are in this same boat.) But I tried. I have managed to fill the day with sun, water, Jimmy Buffet, rum and lots of memories… I think I have replayed every Alabama trip in my mind. There are too many fun memories to ponder today. Good grief! What I wouldn’t give to celebrate another birthday with you in Alabama. It’s been such a long time since we’ve done that.

It’s hot as Hades here today, but thankfully, there has been a good breeze. I couldn’t make it out to the beach today, because of everything. However, I did put a water-filled tanning bed/pool under the palms in the backyard – flamingos, rum drinks, naps, reading, writing, and (of course) Jimmy Buffet playing in the background.

It’s been a nice day, Babe. The only thing missing was you… but that isn’t meant to be evidently. I wanted to honor you today, and all things considered, I think you would have liked it.

And I say “good night” at the end of another day…
Another day without you…
Another day on my own…
Another day of missing you,
And wishing with all my heart for one more moment with you.
A moment to touch your face,
Look into your eyes,
Kiss your lips,
And feel your arms around me…
How I wish!
But that is not to be,
Not ever again.
So, all I can say is,
“I love you, Babe…
Always and forever…
Happy Birthday once again
And… Good night.”
~ Linda April 2020

So, that was my world this week. Thank you for your thoughts, prayers and kind messages of love and support. I don’t know if this is something you can relate to or if this is something you are also facing, but either way, I would love to hear from you. How do you celebrate your loved one’s birthdays? Is this current situation changing how you will celebrate? If you would like to share your thoughts or experience or if you need a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. * Who knows… your story may the answer for someone else.

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Do You Remember?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

Sunday:
Hi Babe,

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

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

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

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

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

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

I love you, Babe… and that’s forever!

Well, that’s what is going on in my world this week. If you think about it, I would really appreciate a prayer or two tomorrow, please. I know we all deal with life, loss and grief in our own ways. So, what about you? Do you ever have those times where it seems like there is too much to deal with? Where you wonder how and if you can make it through everything you are facing? If you would like to share your thoughts or experience or if you need a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. * Who knows… your story may the answer for someone else.

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Looking for Springtime

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone deals with life, loss, and grief in their own way and in their own time. We will each search and find the “springtime” in our lives at our own pace. After all, we all find answers and comfort in various sources, which is what makes us all unique and different. I am only sharing my thoughts. What about you? If you are struggling with grief, loss, loneliness, please know you are not alone – We are here. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. * Who knows… your story may the answer for someone else.

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