widower – Page 29 – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love and Grief… Looking for Signs

“Well, that’s it. You see what you want to see, and you hear what you want to hear.” ~ Harry Nilsson, The Point

When Bruce died, I read and heard about so many people who received signs from the people they had lost. Since it didn’t seem to be everyone, I figured, who knows… Maybe Harry Nilsson got it right… Maybe we see what we choose to see or ignore what we choose to ignore. As for me… I was hoping for signs… Even to this day, I continually look for signs from Bruce… And he has sent them. Signs that he is here. Signs things will be okay. Signs that let me know I am not alone.

One of the first signs I recognized was pelicans…

I have always loved pelicans. They are a symbol of sacrificial love and are often seen depicted in churches. After Bruce’s memorial, I was awestruck as a flock of 21 pelicans flew overhead. In that moment, it seemed so right… A great reminder of Bruce’s love – unconditional and sacrificial – never one to put himself first. Even today, whenever I see a pelican, I find myself whispering, “I love you too, Babe.”

Other signs have included objects (with some significance to Bruce and I) being moved. (I’m a bit picky about where things belong, so I definitely notice when something is moved.) For example, a friend gave me a worry doll after Bruce passed away. It lays on my bedside table in front of my lamp. One morning when I awoke, it was missing. I looked on the floor, but it wasn’t there. A few hours later, as I sat down to write in my journal, I found it. It had moved across the room, onto my desk. It was sitting in the center of a palm-frond Cherokee rose given to me by Bruce when we were on a vacation in SC.

Another sign involved our foosball table. Bruce and I loved playing foosball. Whenever we played, he always flipped his men nearest his goal, so he wouldn’t block himself, if he took a shot. When Bruce died, I was alone… I wasn’t playing foosball. As I mentioned, I am a bit particular, so I would always make sure the men were lined up precisely. I can’t even begin to count the number of times I would walk by the table to find his men flipped upside down in “true Bruce fashion.” (Granted, now I have an 8-year-old little boy in the house, so I no longer pay attention to the foosball men.)

Then of course, there was the butterfly dream when this whole cancer thing first started. Because of that dream, butterflies have come to symbolize Bruce’s presence and guidance throughout this ordeal…

I live in a small town. While we have a cancer center, my care there was not instilling confidence or trust. My questions were not being answered. Instead, I was consistently told, “This is how we treat all cancer here. Just do it.” But that didn’t work for me… I’ve done my homework, and I know there are different treatment options out there. Breast cancer is not a cookie cutter disease with one cookie cutter treatment.

So, the more I was dismissed, the more I dug in my heels. Finally, a saint within the system recognized my frustration, and I was given a referral to a (very large) breast cancer clinic just a few hours away.

As we walked into the first building 2 weeks ago, my sister nudged me and pointed… There on the wall was a mural of butterflies larger than me. I smiled. Maybe this was a sign… It sure felt like it. We took the elevator upstairs to the breast clinic. There on the wall was a metal sculpture of hundreds of butterflies. At that point, I knew this was where I needed to be… This is where I could relax in the hands of doctors who would treat me with the latest knowledge, treatments… and respect.

Sure enough… my questions have all been answered. I have been given options… And my choices have not been second guessed. But that’s not all…

This past week, we were there for my pre-surgery work-up. I walked into the hotel room feeling apprehensive and a bit sad – still wishing more than anything, that Bruce were here beside me. I put down my bags and looked around. There on the wall was a beautiful painting of a pelican… A whispered, “Thank you, Babe… I love you too,” instantly escaped my lips.

And while I know I won’t be able to feel Bruce physically beside me tomorrow, I still know, without a doubt, he is here… And in my heart, I know I am where I am supposed to be, because he sent me here.

While everyone deals with loss, grief and life in their own way, sometimes new trauma is that much harder to handle simply because those we loved are no longer beside us… It can feel lonely and overwhelming. However, being open to the signs that our loved ones are still with us, can have a miraculous affect on our outlook. These were my thoughts and reactions this week as I prepare to undergo surgery and the follow-up treatments. Maybe something in this feels familiar… Perhaps you too have experienced 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.

Quick Note: I am not sure how this next week will play out, and if I will be able to post next week. Please know that I will do my best to be here. Thank you for your good thoughts, prayers and positive vibes as I prepare to “fight the good fight!”

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… Happy Mother’s Day

Happy Mother’s Day!

I used to hate those words… After the dysfunction and violence of my first marriage, I carried way too much guilt to feel like I should be celebrated at all. My kids had to deal with so much crap – so much stuff children should never know even exists in this world. I couldn’t bear the idea of any of them telling me “thank you” for their childhood or for being their mom.

This has been a struggle for me for years… They disagree. For whatever reason, they seem to understand what made me stay in that marriage for so long. AND they stood strong when we left, as well as, through the years as we learned (as a team) how to survive… In other words, my kids are amazing! They are the reason I can toast the day and still smile.

But when I look back, the first Mother’s Day with Bruce is another that will always stand out…

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 all of them were over 18, except my youngest. She was the only one that lived with us (the other three were still in SC)… And at the time, my youngest wasn’t very happy about any of 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.” 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 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 crying so hard as I tried to read it, he ended up reading it to me. Inside, were three tickets to go see The Phantom of the Opera that afternoon (Me, Bruce and my youngest daughter) … TICKETS? To the Opera?? From Bruce???

Now, I need to back up a bit… Bruce made no pretense about nor did he apologize for) who he was. He as a truck driver who loved body building/working out, Jimmy Buffet, 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 spend the whole time pouting or acting miserable because it really wasn’t anything he wanted to do?

No… 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 that is all I have to go on.

Every year after that, Bruce always made 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.

When he passed, that first Mother’s Day was hard. I didn’t want to celebrate… I found myself going back to those feelings 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…

While I find myself contemplating the idea that this could be my last Mother’s Day, I also know it could one of many more to come… We don’t know… Life will have its own way, and all we can do is go along for the ride. I can’t change what was or what is ahead. I can only live this moment and 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. But, since we can’t we can either allow ourselves to get caught up in the parts we don’t like or choose to find moments in the past 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

Peace, Love and Grief… Don’t be Scared to Wear the Perfume

Because this day is all we have.
We are celebrating.
This morning.
We have this morning.
That’s it.
~ Rob Bell, How to Be Here

If there is one thing I learned when Bruce died, it was this simple truth – This moment is all we really have… Even the next moment is not guaranteed.

This was so true for us. That Friday was like any other one. We kissed good-by in the morning and went to our respective jobs. I picked up Chinese food on my way home from work, but since he was held up at work, I ate without him. When he finally got home, I skipped to the door and met him with a hug and kiss… (The best part of the day from my point of view.)

By that point, it was late. We were both tired, but that didn’t matter… We still sat together as he ate his dinner and talked about what we wanted to do for the weekend. It was January, but the weather was still warm. So, there we were trying to decide between the beach, the boat or the kayaks… Bruce, always so easy-going, just laughed and said, “Whatever you want… As long as we’re together and near the water is all I need.”

As we fell asleep laying in each other’s’ arms, I was busy worrying about “who knows what.” I will always remember that last kiss on the top of my head as he held me closer and said, “Stop worrying… Everything’s going to be okay… It always is.”

Just a few short hours later, I woke up. Still snuggled up against his warmth, I thought at first, he was snoring. Then, I thought he was having a bad dream… It took a few moments before I realized he was in trouble… and the nightmare began.

We went from laughter and snuggles to the somberness of death in a matter of a few short hours… How does that happen? I had never thought this would be our future. We were both healthy. (I thought.) We were both into fitness and eating right… I thought we would grow old together…. I never imagined anything else.

But, I learned quite quickly that life doesn’t come with any promises… It just isn’t that way… To put is simply – sometimes life just isn’t fair.

So, now I find myself fighting my own body… I am trying to stay positive, but I find myself struggling with the idea that my own body is trying to kill me…

This week as I was fighting the depression that wants to take up residence in my mind, I thought about the words above from Rob Bell. Hmmm… This morning… Do I want to really live it? Or am I going to sit and worry about what may (or may not) happen? I can’t control the second option… I can control the first.

“So,” I thought, “what would I love to do with this day? Where do I find the simple pleasures… The things that make me smile without any effort?”

At first, nothing came to mind. However, as I was getting showered and dressed, I realized something. It was a simple thing. One of those things most people might think wouldn’t even matter… But it matters to me…

I have a bottle of perfume that is my favorite. However, these days, it is almost impossible to find, so I rarely wear it. Instead, I tell myself I am “saving it.” … For what?? For a better day? For something important? That’s silly! So, I’m sure you can guess what I did… I wore the perfume! I decided if it runs out, and I can’t find more – so be it. I can’t enjoy it in the bottle, so I am going to enjoy it now.

… Just like this day! … And just like this moment!

Tomorrow isn’t promised, but this moment is… And if that is all I am promised, then I want to live this moment in such a way that makes me smile. Why? Because when my last moment comes (whether it is sooner or later), I want two things… I want to know I didn’t waste a moment… I lived each moment for what it is – sad, happy, whatever… savoring the different flavors that make up this life… And (when the time comes) for those I love to remember me living each moment as it is offered – genuine and full.

Everyone deals with loss and grief in their own way. For some of us, it is easy to become cautious and live life sitting on the sidelines – observing more than living. However, that was never me before Bruce died, and I don’t want it to be me now either. These are only my thoughts and reactions this week as I try to adapt to this whole cancer thing.

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Finding Butterflies

Weeks ago, when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I wrote about a dream I had… I was so scared, but in my dream, Bruce built a metal sculpture of a butterfly. It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen… It glistened and was covered with crystals and gems. As I watched, he put on some music, and the butterfly came to life and flew all around me. When the music ended, he picked up the now still sculpture, and kissed me. Then, I woke up.

It was the most calming dream I have ever had… At that moment, I knew butterflies would be my symbol from Bruce that he is here… And I’m not alone as I face what is ahead.

I know I need to take it one step at a time… I need to be careful and not get caught up in all the “what ifs.” But that is much easier said than done… The bottom line is… I’m still scared.

<When> “you have butterflies in your stomach, be grateful. You are in a wonderful place.
Nerves are God’s gift to you, reminding you that your life is not passing you by.
Make friends with the butterflies.
Welcome them when they come,
Revel in them,
Enjoy them,
And if they go away, do whatever it takes to put yourself in a position where they return.”
~ Rob Bell, How to Be Here

When I first learned I had cancer, I thought, “I’m not scared of dying.” That’s true… I’m not… I’m scared of the treatments. However, I also knew I couldn’t stay in that mindset. It’s not a positive or healthy place to be. So, over the last few weeks, I have been reading everything I can get my hands on concerning breast cancer. I want to understand my choices… I want to know the risks… I want to know exactly what it is I am facing.

The problem is, each person’s cancer is different; no one can make any guarantees; and I will never know exactly what lies ahead. Besides, all that stuff can make you crazy after a while. So, I have also been reading some of those “get-your-head-in-a-peaceful-place” type books, as well.

When I ran across the quote above, it hit me… I am so nervous right now… I have butterflies in my stomach and they don’t seem to be leaving anytime soon. Yet, I had not connected the two… I never thought about being grateful for what is happening or for how scared and nervous I feel.

Yet, this twist in my path has me re-evaluating so many things about how I live my life… For example – Am I really living it? Or in my grief, am I spending more time observing than living? I’m not sure… I tend to be a bit introverted anyway, so a quiet life suits me. At the same time, losing Bruce hurt more than anything I have ever endured… It still does. I know I am afraid of hurting again. I know I tend to stay where it is “safe.”

However, perhaps now life is drawing me out… Maybe this whole thing is to remind me, I am alive… Perhaps, I am being reminded that I need to dip my toes in the water…

That doesn’t mean I need to go sky-diving or go backpacking across the continent… Those things are fine, but they aren’t the things I long to do. I believe I simply need to be sure I’m saying “yes” to those things which bring me joy and make me smile.

So that is where I am this week… Preparing for a fight where my own body is trying to kill me, while at the same time remembering to live… To be present in each moment… And to find the joy in simply being here.

Everyone deals with loss and grief in their own way. For each of us, trying to understand why things happened as they did (and do) can be a challenge in and of itself, and our paths are as diverse as the drops of water in the ocean. These are only my thoughts and reactions this week as I try to wrap my brain around this turn in my path. 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

Peace, Love and Grief… Happy Birthday to You!

Before Bruce died, we always spent his birthday week with his folks on the Gulf Coast. He didn’t like parties or being the center of attention, so it was a great way to celebrate his birthday – just some chill time by the ocean surrounded by people he loved.

Once we moved to Florida, we started driving (versus flying) and would split the trip into two days. Bruce found this quaint, little hotel on the Apalachicola River where we loved to stay. The hotel was built on pilings and literally sat on the river. It was absolutely magical, and we loved it there!

This year as I was planning where to go for his birthday, I knew that was the spot… That was where I wanted to go. But, to save my life, I couldn’t remember the name of the hotel, so I went on a hunt. It didn’t take too long – just a couple of evenings on the internet… And I made my reservations.

As this week approached (with everything else going on), I began to worry… What if it wasn’t how I remembered? What if I got there and the memories were too much? I almost talked myself out of going… Almost… but not entirely.

I couldn’t remember the exact route Bruce would take to drive there. (I’m ashamed to say) I was never the one driving so I never paid attention to road names or the towns we passed through. But, I knew he didn’t take the direct route… He always took the back roads… So, Google could not be my navigator. I remembered the ocean was only feet from the road… For me, this part of the ride was as much a part of the experience as anything else. So, I went on line and just started looking at maps… (WOW! Who uses those anymore… LOL!) And I found it!

Then on Thursday, with my hand-written directions, some snacks and my luggage, I set off for my “Bruce’s Birthday Adventure”…

And it was fabulous!!

This river-front hotel and this small fishing town have not changed a lick! I was able to enjoy the most peaceful, quiet few days celebrating and remembering the man I love… The man who changed my life…

Hi, Babe! Happy Birthday! Just watching the magic of the sunrise on this precious day. I can’t believe the beauty surrounding me this morning. It’s as if the world took all that is you – all the love, strength, acceptance, joy and compassion – and made them physical within this sunrise… This daily miracle, which is mostly ignored. It started dark and quiet. Now, we are at first light, and life is waking up on the river. I can feel you here beside me – a smile on your face and coffee in your hand. : ) Quiet and strong, like the river at my feet. Life is so hectic lately, but it is in these quiet moments where I find my bearings. I’m not sure how this whole cancer thing is going to go – so far it is a chaotic mess. But, if I can manage to find these beautiful still moments with you along the way. I know I’ll be okay… I’ll manage through “whatever” as long as I can still feel you. I still love you so much. Today is yours and yet it feels like a gift to me… The day my angel landed in this world – soon to walk by my side and hold me in his arms… Even if it was only a brief moment in time, it was our moment… And it is where my heart remains.
~ Linda, April 2018

As I checked out to head home, the woman said, “Hope to you again next year!” Hmmm… Will I come back next year? Honestly, I don’t know… but I know it is where I was meant to be this year… And I have found a peace here that I desperately needed as I face the storm ahead.

Celebrating the lives of our loved ones seems to be an important part of this journey. I have to deal with Bruce’s death (I can’t avoid that part) but I want to focus on his life, because that holds everything good about him… That is where he loved us and where he made a difference. I know each of us remembers our loved ones differently – in our own way and in our own time. Today’s blog is simply my way of celebrating Bruce this year. Maybe this feels familiar… 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

Peace, Love and Grief… Facing the Lion Ahead

Why are you gone?
Why aren’t you here?
The lions are here…
Where are you?
I can’t do this!
I don’t have what it takes!
I don’t!
I’m scared!
The lions are circling,
And I don’t have the strength to fight them…
Not again… It’s too much…
Help me, Babe…
Show me I’m not alone.
~ Linda, February 2015

Does it ever hit you as strange the things life seems to throw our way? Do you ever think “what in the world?” or “why?” … I know, I do.

When Bruce died I questioned everything in life… I wanted to know why, and I questioned whether God really loved me at all. I even questioned my own ability to keep going… It felt so impossible at the time. In the last five years, while there hasn’t really been any answers, there has been a lot of healing as I have learned to come to terms with the changes life throw my way.

These last 2 weeks, however, have found me struggling with news that (once again) I’m not real sure how to handle… Two weeks ago, I was diagnosed with breast cancer.

It is my lion ahead…

At first, I chose to only share the news with our families and a few close friends. I didn’t want to tell anyone… I just life to be normal. I could barely wrap my brain around the whole thing… much less talk about it.

In last week’s blog, I could only bring myself to share my fear about handling this without Bruce by my side, but I still couldn’t name it… I even debated whether I wanted to share the whole truth here or not.

However, this past week, as I have struggled with the reality of this whole thing (and all it encompasses), I knew I needed to share this here… with you. I’m know I’m not the first widow to deal with cancer without my spouse by my side. And since it is now a part of my experience as a widow, I need to be honest about it and share it openly. This is not something I would ever wish on anyone. But if you ever find yourself here… I hope you never feel alone.

I think that is my biggest struggle… I’m already scare, but doing this without Bruce makes it even scarier… I would give anything to feel his arms around me… To hear him tell me it’s going to be okay – We’ve got this… “We”… That’s part I need…

Don’t misunderstand… Our families have been beyond supportive – both Bruce’s and mine. I know I am not really alone. I know everyone is willing to help me any way they can.

But, it’s the emotional part… It’s the part where I feel like I’m going to fall apart at any moment. It’s the part where the tears are always right behind my eyelids. It’s the part where I need to just collapse and let someone else handle it for a while… Because I don’t think I can.

This week, despite being given very good odds, I have found myself spiraling down the rabbit hole of anxiety and depression. I have done a lot of reading that says this is normal. They say it is actually a type of grief… Grief for the life you thought was yours, but now will involve all kinds of surgery and treatments… And even if everything goes well, there will be a life-long chance of recurrence. For someone who is never sick… (Shoot, I don’t even feel sick now!)… this just doesn’t feel real.

I think it’s that “C” word… It’s just a scary word… It creates so many negative thoughts and scenarios in my head… And I don’t know how to stop thinking about it. I don’t really have the luxury to not think about it. I have constant appointments with all different doctors, and each one tells me something different… Each one proposes new ideas requiring different decisions… It’s all so overwhelming…

I wish I could end this on a positive note today… I wish I could say, “No big deal; no worries. I’ve got this!” But this week… today… I don’t feel like “I’ve got this”… Instead, I feel like this has got me, and I’m not a fan.

I’m not questioning the “why me” this time, but I sure don’t know why God chose to have me do this without Bruce… That part is still hard… But for whatever reason, here I am… and cancer is the lion ahead… The lion I have to face alone.

Would you be as lost as me
if our roles were changed?
Because I’m lost…
I keep looking for you wherever I go…
~ Linda, January 2018

Sometimes when we feel like we are finally figuring this thing out, life throws something else our way. Learning to live with our grief and deal with these ever-changing circumstances can be overwhelming. I know each of us reacts differently and each of us will do it in our own way and in our own time. Today’s blog is simply my newest experience, and how I am trying to make some sense of this and move forward. Maybe this feels familiar… 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

Peace, Love and Grief… When I Miss You the Most

If I am honest, I have to say I always miss Bruce. There isn’t a day when he doesn’t cross my mind in some fashion. Even in casual conversations, I find myself either thinking of a related “Bruce story” or what he would think of the topic at hand. I can’t help it… It is as natural to me as breathing… Although, I believe I am better about not saying these things as often as I think of them. (Mainly, because there are a lot more people in my world now who never knew Bruce.)

However, I also must admit, there are definitely times when I miss Bruce more than other times. Usually those times involve facing something that feels scary and/or overwhelming… It’s then that I miss the safety of his arms… I miss falling into those arms, having him hold me close and tell me it’s all going to be okay. I miss his confidence in life, and his ability to maintain a steady calm no matter what we were facing.

This week has been one of those weeks…

I have “lions” to face, and to be honest, I am scared. I know I have to be strong and maintain that “steady calm,” but I don’t feel it…

They say there are lessons we each must learn in this life. And, if we don’t learn them the first time, we are bound to face similar situations over and over until we do learn. For me, I have felt that lesson has been the one of trusting life… In fact, I have written about it several times here. I am constantly being reminded that the river doesn’t try to move the rocks; it simply flows around them.

Yet, each time I see those rocks in the path ahead, I find myself starting to panic just a bit. Each time, I find myself missing Bruce and the strength that just seemed radiate from him. I find myself thinking I just can’t do this without him – not this time.

As I said, this week has been one of those weeks… I can see the rocks in the path ahead. I don’t feel strong… I don’t feel calm… I know I can’t move the rocks, and I know I must move forward.

Fear is fighting a reality I can’t change.
~ Linda, October 2013

But, in the middle of my fear, Bruce sent me a sign… Thursday night I had a dream. In my dream, Bruce had built a metal sculpture of a butterfly. It was beautiful and covered with crystals and gems. Then, he put on some music, and the butterfly came to life and flew all around me. When the music ended, he picked up the now still sculpture, placed it in my hands, and kissed me. Then, I woke up.

Am I still scared? Yes… And I would give anything to have Bruce here beside me through this. However, it seems that whenever I find myself facing the “lions” (or the “rocks”), Bruce finds a way to remind me, I am not alone and no matter what happens…

It is still going to be alright…

Everyone deals with loss and grief in their own way. For each of us, learning to live with our grief and deal with the ever-changing circumstances life throws our way can be an overwhelming lesson. I know each of us will do it in our own way and in our own time. Today’s blog is simply my thoughts and how I keep trying to move forward on this path. Maybe this feels familiar… Perhaps you too have struggled with learning to live with your grief. 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

Peace, Love and Grief… Time to Cry

People ask me if I still cry…
I wake up in the morning with only your picture next to me…
And I cry.
As I get dressed, I think of how you would come in each morning and kiss me good-by…
And I cry.
At work, people make comments about my grief and pain. I smile at them and try to remember that they have no idea what they are saying…
And I cry.
I come home to an empty house and spend the evening alone…
And I cry.
I crawl into our big empty bed alone – no one to hold me; no one to kiss me…
And I cry.
So, when people ask if I still cry, I say – Not all the time, but sometimes…
I still cry.
~ Linda, January 2014

It’s been over 4 years since I wrote that… And, yes, I still cry… Not as often and not publicly but yes, I do.

I remember when this journey first started. I read so many things which said the pain would subside, or the grief was compared to an open wound that would later feel more like a scar. I disagree… I haven’t found that to be true at all.

It still hurts… I still cry… I still miss Bruce as much today as I did years ago. The difference isn’t in the pain – the pain is still here. The difference is in how I have learned to live with the pain. In the beginning, I couldn’t control it… It controlled me. It has taken me years to learn to turn that around.

At first, I didn’t understand this new aspect of my life or how to live with it. It was so foreign and surreal. It was made up of everything from my worst nightmares. I just kept thinking it would go away… If I could just find a list of all the things I needed to do to make it better, I could “get over this.” I just knew that was the answer.

But there is no such list, … and so I struggled. I struggled because I couldn’t predict when a wave of grief would hit. I struggled because when a wave did hit me, I couldn’t control the tears. I struggled because I felt judged by people around me (which was really only one or two people, but in my head, it felt like a lot more).

At one point, I remember reading about a woman who would “give” herself a specific time each day to cry. At the time, I thought, “That’s silly. I never know when I’m going to cry… How can I say I’m going to cry at a certain time each day?” However, as time has passed, I have found myself doing exactly that… And I don’t think I’m the only one.

This week as I was looking at some journaling ideas for grief, one was “When do you cry?” I know that can go in a couple of directions… For example, when do you cry (what triggers it)? OR when do you cry (what time of the day)? I have had to look at this question both ways.
When I was first on this journey, I had to figure out the first question…

Figuring out the things that could trigger my grief was my first step to learning how to control it. For a while, I would avoid those things (or try), but as I have gotten stronger, I have learned to handle those triggers as they come.

This is where I have learned to appreciate the timing piece… the “when do I let it go” part… As time has passed, I have learned to allow myself some time and space each day to let it go… Journaling has probably been the biggest God-send for me. I have stacks and stacks of journals filled with my feelings – the anger, sadness, and loneliness. All of the overwhelming feelings associated with grief are there as raw, wounded and honest as I felt them in the moment.

Because I only write in my journal at a certain time each day, I started to learn how to hang onto those feelings until I was ready to write. And as I write, the tears flow, and I let them… I don’t try to stop them… That is my time to let it go… It is my time each day to grieve and feel no guilt or shame.

I believe when you lose someone you love… someone who was your whole world, your grief will always be a part of your life. I don’t believe it changes from an open wound to a scar… I believe it is more about learning to live with your grief – learning to control it versus letting it control you. It isn’t easy, but it is doable…

So, yes, I still cry… Do you?

Everyone deals with loss and grief in their own way. For each of us, learning to live with our grief can be an overwhelming lesson. I know each of will do it in our own way and in our own time. Today’s blog is simply my thoughts and how I have moved forward on this path. Maybe this feels familiar… Perhaps you too have struggled with learning to live with your grief. 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

Peace, Love and Grief… The Gift That is Life – Part 2

Life, in its cruelty,
Gives us the gift of love
But along with it
Comes an hourglass counting down the moments
Until it is gone.
~ Linda, Sept 2013

Last week I wrote about Bruce dealing with his own mortality… About wanting life to be as normal as possible for as long as possible… And, about appreciating the “Gift That is Life.” This week I want to pick that thought back up… Life… It really is a gift… The best gift…

If there is one thing I have learned on this journey, it is the idea that each moment is precious… And the next moment is not promised…

I’ll always remember our last night together… We laughed; we talked; we made plans… It was all so normal. I would never have guessed that night’s kiss would be our last. I would never have guessed I would never lay in his arms again and feel the security that was offered there. I would never again feel the contentment and security that comes from unconditional love… I would never know any of those again… Not from Bruce.

Once he was gone, my whole perspective on life changed. What had seemed so important before, was not… What was important? Family… love… acceptance…

Those were the very things Bruce always valued. He loved his family. It didn’t matter if things were awkward or stressful… He always just loved us… All of us. It didn’t matter if he agreed with what was happening or the choices made or the actions taken… He just loved us. For him, it was that simple.

Don’t get me wrong… There were plenty of times when he was hurt by these very things, but it never changed how he felt or how he responded. I believe he felt that way because he knew his time was limited. I also believe he understood the big picture… He knew what was really important. It wasn’t about having his way, or people even understanding his perspective… His goal was simply to accept (no judgement) people where they were and to love us.

It’s weird, but when he died, that part I understood! The idea that life it too precious to waste on anger or self-pity struck me deep.

I know there have been plenty of times on this journey when I have felt sorry for myself and wondered “why us?” But when it comes to my relationships, I have learned that letting things go and just loving is way more important than being right.

Life is too short… Bruce died when he was only 52… He was young, especially when you consider the medium life span for men is 78. We thought we had years left together… But we didn’t… And that is my point… We don’t know how much time we have left together.

When Bruce died, I had no regrets. We weren’t arguing nor were we cold with each other. We were close… We were intimate… We spent as much time together as we could. We didn’t waste time on anger or “keeping score.” Things were good!

But life isn’t always that way… I see people arguing or treating each other with disrespect or simple cool disdain… What a waste! If life ended tomorrow, is that really where you want it end?… Not me…

This journey has taught me that I may not get tomorrow… Today, this moment, is all I have for sure. Understanding that is huge! Living it is even bigger…

I love my friends. I love my family. We may not always agree or understand each other. We may inadvertently hurt one another… (After all, it’s what people do, even when we don’t mean to.) But no matter what, my love is bigger than anything else…

It’s been a long, hard journey, but that is one thing I know… I have learned to ask myself, “If life ended now, would I be okay with what I am doing? … With where things are?” If not, what do I want to change? What do I need to do different?

Why? Because I remember that Bruce saw our life together as a gift – each and every moment… And I want to offer that same gift to those I love, as well.

Everyone deals with loss and grief in their own way. For each of us, trying to understand why things happened as they did can be a challenge in and of itself, and our paths are as diverse as the drops of water in the ocean… And realizing the preciousness of life is the best thing we can do. Maybe this feels familiar… Perhaps you too have struggled with the “why” of grief. 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

Peace, Love and Grief… The Gift That is Life

As I lie here thinking of you,
I realize I have been blessed to have had a husband
Whose only expectation was for me to love him;
And whose only goal was to show me how much he loved me.
~ Linda, July 2014

When Bruce died it came as such a shock to me… How does a person go to bed laughing and joking, but not wake up in the morning? How does that work? Months later I learned he died of an enlarged heart. But how is it, no one know about that? His job required a yearly physical… I know he went to the doctor every six months for his blood pressure. The whole thing just didn’t add up… And to be honest, it still doesn’t.

I remember after he died, all the family came. As they were trying to help me through those days, they would ask about this or that document or piece of paperwork… But, I didn’t have to go hunt for any of it… All of it was in a nice, neat pile on the counter… Everything I needed… Everything Bruce knew I would need.

It didn’t take long for the feeling to sink in… The feeling that he must have known… He had to have known… Why else would everything be ready for me? In fact, the more I thought about it, I started to recall times when he would make comments about dying, which I had laughed off… Or forbidden him to say… Had he been trying to bring it up, and I shut it down? Was he trying to open the path for a conversation, and I didn’t get the hint?

At first, it just plain made me angry! How could he have known and not said anything? Why didn’t he allow me to be a part of whatever decision he made about his health? Why didn’t he allow me a last good-by? Why didn’t he tell me, so we could be sure everything was planned and in order? Why did he leave me to tell everyone? Why hadn’t he done that?

I didn’t understand any of it… It was all too much to take in, much less, try to make sense of. As the months passed, I called his doctors and asked what they knew, but I got the same answer each time… “We have nothing on record about an enlarged heart.” (As it turns out, HIPPA laws prevent discussion of the deceased’s records for 50 years.) The most I could find was a lab order for a heart scan and blood work, which appears to have been ignored by Bruce and shoved in the back of his bottom drawer. (So, I know it was a discussion with his doctor.)

As the years passed, my feeling that Bruce knew something has remained just as strong, but my anger eventually gave way to guilt…

I began to feel terrible knowing that Bruce must have carried this knowledge all alone. I couldn’t understand why he didn’t feel he could trust me enough to tell me? He didn’t need to handle it by himself… Why didn’t he let me support him through this?… Why?? What did I do wrong?

No matter how I looked at it, I felt I had let him down. For whatever reason, he felt he had to do this all alone… The guilt over not being there for him was overwhelming at times. People told me to let it go – there was no evidence to prove he knew anything… But I couldn’t. I knew Bruce… And in hindsight, I know what I know… And I know that he knew.

Now, however, my thought process has changed once again. Now instead of feeling guilt, I have moved to a place of understanding.

Over the past year, I have had several friends diagnosed with chronic or fatal illnesses. Each one has handled it in differently. Some have made public announcements on Face Book, while others have kept it quiet and only shared with a few. I am also sure there have been others who have told no one…

So, once again, my feelings have changed… Now I can say, I get it… finally.

Each of us is different, and how we handle those situations is going to be different. So, I have had to take myself out of my own head and put myself in Bruce’s place, and remember who he was as a man…

First, he hated to be the center of attention… Even telling me, would have made him the center of our marriage – something he would not have liked. Second, he believed in living in the moment… whatever it held. If I know Bruce (as I believe I do), he would have wanted life to be as normal as possible for as long as possible. He would have wanted the mundane and the quiet moments as much as the fun and silly moments we shared… He would have wanted the tenderness and love we shared to be real and honest up to the last moment…

And that was exactly what he got…

We laughed and disagreed. We kissed hello and good-by. We spent quiet moments at the beach and danced in the kitchen. I believe his goal was to be sure my memories of “us” were real… and honest… and precious…

Most of all, I believe he never said a word because he wanted me to remember our life together as a gift – each and every moment…

“Suffering and loss have this extraordinary capacity to alert and awaken us to the gift that life is.” ~ Rob Bell

Everyone deals with loss and grief in their own way. For each of us, trying to understand why things happened as they did can be a challenge in and of itself, and our paths are as diverse as the drops of water in the ocean. These are only my thoughts and reactions as I have traveled on this path. Maybe this feels familiar… Perhaps you too have struggled with the “why” of grief. 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