grieve – Page 32 – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love and Grief… Decorating and grief

Note: Just moments before posting my blog last week, we had a “milk meets computer” incident. Thank you for your patience as we worked to get back up and running this week.

For anyone grieving, the holidays are tough… They just are. I wish I could share some great “tricks” to help you through this time, but honestly, there are none.

The first year, (as I’ve told you before), I completely ignored the holiday. I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t do it. There were some who tried to push the holiday on me by inviting me over to surprise me with their decorations and music… That didn’t work. In fact, it only upset me more. There were others who tried the guilt approach by reminding me that the holiday is based on faith, and is not about me or Bruce at all. While true, it is still a holiday with traditions built around those we love, so this didn’t work either. In fact, it actually just made me question my faith.

The bottom line was – I wasn’t ready. Grief is one of those things that is different for everyone. We each need to go at it in our own way… and in our own time. While I knew this in my gut, it was difficult to express it in such a way that others could understand.

The next year was slightly different… I felt braver… I wanted to participate in Christmas. I remember…

Journal Entry – Dec 2, 2014
“Hi Babe… feeling down… really struggling and missing you. Yesterday was okay – good actually… Until I started some Christmas decorating last night. : ( I thought I was ready. I thought I would be okay, but it broke me. I didn’t do Christmas last year, so this is my first time unpacking this stuff since you died. And since this box represents our last few weeks together, the memories are bittersweet and the tears seem to be endless. All I managed to get out were two nativity sets, the light brick and the stocking holders. (What am I going to do with those?) Hang one stocking? Do I hang yours? I don’t know what to do there… What do I do? I cried myself to sleep and woke up still crying. I’m not very good at this whole widow/grief thing. I can’t seem to just “move on.” I still love and miss you so much! How can this be my life? How can you be gone? How does someone with so much love and life just cease to exist? I don’t think I will ever understand this.”

“I keep remembering how much you loved Christmas – all the decorations and the music… your big ole grin when you watched me decorate or when you put on the Christmas music; your big smile that first Christmas when you laid on your belly in the snow to cut down the tree my youngest had picked; how much you loved all the treats and how excited you got about getting me the “perfect” gift. You loved the fact that this season was all about family and that was what you celebrated. When we were in Michigan, your folks would be there for the whole month and we would spend as much time as possible with them. This was also the time we would spend a week with my family back home. All that is gone now… It was you, Babe. You brought the magic to our lives and now you’re gone. Now I don’t know what to do. I’m so lost… I thought I could do this, but now… I don’t know.”

It was hard that year, but I figured it out – I did hang both stockings. Beside Bruce’s, I placed a small box of paper and a pen. I used these to write down special memories of our Christmases together, and placed these in his stocking.

For me, this really helped. In fact, this has become my tradition. It means a lot to me to see his stocking still hanging there beside mine. In fact, I think it is the most active stocking hanging there.

Each year since Bruce passed has brought challenges of their own. It is always a moment by moment holiday – half survival… half celebration.

This year, however, has brought a new grief to the picture…

This year I have been blessed with a house full, as one of my daughters and my grandson now live with me. Last weekend we managed to set up the stockings, the Christmas china, several nativity sets, the Christmas village, and the tree with lights (but no decorations). It has been a festive week filled with laughter and music.

I’ve loved it. However, I’ve still had my private moments of tears… Of overwhelming memories and those moments when I know he would have loved spending this holiday with his little Boudreaux. For me this seems to always result in tears and missing Bruce down to my very core.

This weekend as we started to decorate the tree, grief reared its head again, but this time it was my grandson’s grief. As we pulled out ornaments, he wanted to hear the stories behind each one. He smiled and laughed and hung them on the tree… so excited. Until…

About halfway through the box, he pulled out an ornament with three snowmen – a Mommy, a Daddy and a baby – and under each one were their names… Just last Christmas, they had still been a family. As he held the ornament in his hands, his eyes filled with tears. Then, still clutching the ornament, he threw himself into his mother’s arms and wept.

He has only recently come to realize that divorce is forever… This has been a hard fact for him to accept. In fact, I believe he has only just started the real grief for the loss of his family as he knew it… And just like anyone grieving, he has a mix of emotions, which can be overwhelming for a little boy, especially at a moment like this.

On this particular night we held him and listened… simply listened as he cried and told us how he felt.

Then he asked if he could still hang that ornament because he loved the way it reminded him of his “old” family. I thought of Bruce’s stocking hanging just a few feet away for the very same reason… Then, my daughter and I looked at each other and without hesitation agreed.

In the days since that night, he has taken that ornament down, held it, cried and rehung it several times. It is his way of grieving this holiday… and just as I learned with my own grief…

We all have to go at it in our own way and in our own time… I still need to hang Bruce’s stocking and my grandson needs to hold an ornament… and that’s okay.

If you are struggling this holiday season, please be kind to yourself. Do what you feel is right for you… and simply let the rest go.

If you are struggling with celebrating the holidays after your loss, please let us all be there for you. If you have any ideas that have helped you through the holidays, please share them here for others. This is our community… Let’s reach out and be the compassion we each seek.

To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

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… How I deal with a “family” holiday

“Trauma creates change you don’t choose.

Healing is about creating change you do choose.“

~ Michelle Rosenthall

Thanksgiving is one of those holidays that in my mind is a “family” holiday. It has always been a holiday where family comes together and the day is centered on playing, the sharing of stories, laughter and love. As a child, my family always spent the day at one of my grandparents’ homes. I loved playing with my cousins and listening to the grown-ups talk.

In my first marriage, we lived too far away from either of our families, so the day was spent with friends and strangers who would have otherwise spent the day alone. Everyone pitched in and the day was spent sharing what we had… food, stories and friendships.

When Bruce and I were married, I loved Thanksgiving! Because we were in Michigan, we usually spent the day with his family… until we moved to Florida. However even then, we always managed to have someone in the family with us for Thanksgiving… even if only for a few hours.

However, when Bruce died everything changed…

The first year I couldn’t bring myself to celebrate anything. I didn’t feel thankful. I was still hurting too much. The idea of celebrating a “family” holiday, when the person I love was gone was more than I could handle. I wasn’t interested… Just the mere idea of the day hurt.

So instead, I ignored the holiday completely. I spent the day at a theme park with my youngest daughter and her friend. Most of the day is a blur… But it created the distraction I needed, while still allowing me to spend time with someone I love.

The next year, I was still hurting but there were things I was thankful for… especially my family. It felt right to celebrate the day again. This was the year I spent most holidays with my second daughter and grandson’s family. The effect of that little Bubba on my healing was (and is) amazing.

Last year, the third year, I traveled to merry old England to spend the holiday with my oldest daughter and her husband. A first it seemed so odd to celebrate Thanksgiving in a country that does not share this holiday. Yet, it soon became fun as everyone else seemed eager to pitch in… They were so curious and more than happy to help us find all the “traditional foods” we needed for our feast.

This year was different… It was my fourth Thanksgiving without Bruce, yet it was most like the first. That probably seems a little strange since now I have a home once again filled with love and people. However, this was my daughter’s first year without her son (my grandson). He had left the weekend before to spend the holiday with his father. This was a first for all of us. It felt strange and wrong… There was definite grieving for a family (and a tradition) gone.

While we knew we could have still had a “traditional” meal, we both felt the day would have been too empty without our little Bubba. So, we left as well, and spent the holiday at the beach… Instead of turkey and stuffing, we feasted on meat, cheese, bread and wine. Instead of a room filled with family, there were two of us…

There were tears and a bit of sadness… I missed Bruce… and I missed having that little guy to make me smile… to give us hugs and tell us that he loves our little family. However, all was not lost… There was also relaxation, great conversation, laughter… and the knowledge that we would be a family again in just a few short days.

That day was yesterday. How happy we were (and are) to be together again… Things feel right today with this little Bubba filling the house with his endless love. In fact, the only thing still missing is Bruce…

This year was my fourth Thanksgiving without him… my love, my Bruce. I would love to be able to say that it has gotten easier through the years, but that would be a lie. It is still just as hard. I still miss him… I still cry and grieve for him… The only difference seems to be the tools I have learned to help me through this grief…

And many of those tools I learned from my littlest Bubba – His innocent love of life reminds me that life goes on… And it is up to me to find those things worth celebrating.

What about you? Did you or have you struggled with celebrating the holidays after your loss? How did you come to terms with it? Or do you still need support in that area? Would you be willing to share your story or your thoughts?

Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

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… More than words

My theme for 2016 has been “Growing in love, spirit and purpose,” and this week has been a reminder of that… A week of deciding if I mean what I say or if those are just words.

All week I have had several things going on… (Who hasn’t?) The biggest one was watching my grandson struggle with a challenge while I felt helpless as one of the adults in his life to help. So many things in his life have changed this year and all of it is completely out of his control… It is all happening to him and he has had no choice in any of it. As a consequence, he has gone through all the same emotions I have experienced as he grieves for what was. (Sound familiar?)

This week, he was facing a two hour plane ride to spend the holiday week away from his Mom… All of this for the first time. As the trip approached, the tears and anger increased. We spent many evenings with him in my lap as I rocked him and simply listened. As the week continued and the emotions increased, we realized that getting him onto that plane was going to be a challenge… So his mother and I made a small (albeit significant change)… We changed our focus with the hope that he might follow our lead.

Every time the tears or anger started, we still held him tight. We still listened. However, at other times, when emotions were calmer, we would talk about the good things… We changed our focus to the positives – the people he would see and the fun things he would do during his week away or the excitement of a plane trip without a grownup to monitor the Cola intake.

Before heading out to the airport, we held hands and prayed over this brave little Bubba… And by the time, he needed to walk onto that plane alone, while he was still scared, he wasn’t crying. We gave each other big hugs and watched as he bravely walked down the gangway… alone.

I wish we had recorded the call that came just a few short hours later… He had done it! He was so excited and so proud of himself. At that point, it dawned on me that we had done for him, exactly what I talk about here all the time…

We didn’t stop my grandson from being sad or scared… Those are valid emotions that need to be recognized and acknowledged. However, when we let that be the focus, he seemed to spiral further and further down. (The exact same thing that happens to me when I let myself get too focused on my grief.) Instead, we offered him another choice… the choice to also look at the positive things… and it worked.

“They” say that God gives us lessons to learn in life, and if we fail to learn them the first time, they will continue to pop up in our life. For me, this idea of controlling my focus… of choosing my attitude has been a perpetual lesson over the last few years. Finding the balance between acknowledging my emotions without letting them take over my whole attitude has been a constant challenge. I’m not sure, but maybe watching someone else struggle with the same thing and being able to help him, was another way of learning the same lesson again.

But that wasn’t the end…

My other challenge this week was the actions of others versus my own expectations of them. Several times this week, I reached out to the people around me thinking I could count on them only to find I was wrong. Each time I reached out and made myself vulnerable to someone else the other person tossed it back in my face… Each time I was hurt… Each time I cried… not sure why they responded the way they had.

That was my second lesson this week… The one that makes me come to terms with why I do the things I do. My first response this week was “never again.” However, it didn’t take long for me to realize that when I do whatever I do, it needs to be because I believe it is right… not because of any preconceived response. Whether I get the response I want or not, I need to do what I believe is right… Perhaps that is my other lesson.

I’m not sure why these have been my lessons or why. What I do know is that I need to do what I believe is right… This is my mantra – to “Grow in spirit, love and purpose”… To serve others in whatever way I can…

To use the divine energy within myself to become a divine reality for someone else by simply being the love and acceptance I am seeking from the world around me…

To make my mantra more than mere words… to live what I say I believe… to make it my way of life.

What about you? Did you or have you struggled with reaching out to others in their pain? How did you manage that? Or do you still need support in that area? Would you be willing to share your story or your thoughts?

Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

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 anniversary… Then and now…

Note: This week I celebrated my and Bruce’s wedding anniversary. Instead of my regular style blog, I thought I would simply share my thoughts and celebration from that day… Hopefully, you can relate to some part of it…

This morning I woke up half crying and half excited… It is a weird feeling. All week I have been listening to some of our favorite music, and the memories have been flooding back… each one bringing a smile that just as quickly turns to tears.

Some of the memories I have not thought about for years. Yet, they almost surprise me with the vividness of colors, smells and emotions… The distinct memories of looking into Bruce’s gentle eyes and always seeing nothing but love.

Remembering everything from the first moment until the last… The way he would tilt his head and smile when he was up to no good, or how he would always reach out to touch me whenever we were close. The way he would come up from behind, hug me and kiss that special spot on the side of my neck, and then peek over my shoulder to see what I was doing… Which by that point my legs had turned to jello, and I was usually melting into his hug.

I remember the day we were married… Going out to lunch together, but both of us were too nervous and excited to eat anything. Then, heading back home to get ready. I remember waiting our turn at the courthouse… Bruce was so anxious (and so was I to be honest). He kept going and checking to see “how much longer” while his Dad tried to lighten the mood by making us all laugh. Then at 3:45 PM, it was finally our turn… It all happened so fast! Afterward, we were both so happy we couldn’t let go of each other. Even at dinner, we both held on to each other… and simply smiled.

I remember sitting with Bruce and gazing into the fire… so excited about everything our future had to offer simply because we were together…

I remember each and every anniversary through the years. Bruce always had a way of making each one special…

Move ahead to this year… Despite what others may think, I still take the day off… I still celebrate our love… Only now, I do it alone…

Hi Babe! Happy anniversary… #11. Wow! My third without you…My third filled with tears. I thought our “happily ever after” would really be forever… but here I am… alone – without you. All week I’ve been listening to Kenny Chesney’s Blue Rocking Chair CD. Remember that one? We both bought it when we came back from the islands after we met. It reminded us both of that magical week. : ) … It still does. All week, I’ve been remembering so many precious, precious moments from our short time together… (I’d give anything to start over and do it all again)… I miss us!

I remember our first conversation on the boat at the bar, our first kiss at Duffy’s Love Shack (when you said I should have slapped you!), my first trip to Michigan and yours to SC, your proposal on the tower at our beach, the move to Michigan (when my youngest was so angry with us both) and our wedding day… You planned every detail, and it was perfect! Just a few of the people we love and us… champagne and nibbles at the condo. Then, dinner at Timbers. You even made sure we had a table by the fire (especially for me). I remember the two of us just sitting there gazing into the fire, unable to let go of each other – not quite able to believe we were really married… no more good-byes… or so we thought.

Our years together were so beautiful. I still can’t believe it ended so soon. I have to be careful how much I let myself dwell on it, because it can still bring me down. It still makes me so angry that you’re gone. Damn it! It’s not right! You’re supposed to be here… beside me… holding me… loving me. I still miss you so much. It’s almost been four years apart. How can that be? How can my heart still be so attached to yours? I love you… always and forever, Babe!
~ Linda’s journal, November 2016

I started the morning with Bruce watching the sunrise over the very beach where we spent so much time and where his ashes were scattered. The sunrise was the most beautiful I have ever seen. There was every shade of orange, yellow, pink, red and purple… It was impossible to tell where the sky ended and the ocean began… Such a magical way to start the day together. I brought Bruce some roses, rum : ) and a card. (Yes, I still do all the “normal” anniversary things.) It took me a quite a while to find just the right card, but I finally did… It read, “There’s nothing I’ll ever want more than another year of you… Unless it’s another year of us.” (So true!)

Inside the card, I wrote, “… I would give anything for another moment with you… You are always on my mind… Thank you for the gift of fun, laughter, great conversations, acceptance… and especially your love! That is a gift I will always treasure…”

I spent the rest of the day celebrating and remembering… I went to our favorite restaurant for lunch. In fact, this has become such a tradition that the staff always remembers me and makes it such a special meal. They always manage to find that perfect balance between leaving me to my memories and spending time with me so I don’t feel abandoned or completely alone.

For dinner, I had the special honor of celebrating with our grandson at one of Bruce’s favorite seafood spots in town. Then, to end the day… a bit of champagne and a Jimmy Buffet dance party. This seems to have become a tradition to every “Bruce” celebration, but I should probably explain this part a little…

Bruce and I have so many fun memories of parrothead tailgating and concerts… But my sweetest memories are of coming home in mid-winter to find the heat turned up, Bruce in his swim trunks, island concoctions made and Jimmy Buffet playing on the stereo. Then, the rest of the night would be spent dancing barefoot in the kitchen, laughing and simply loving life…

This is the man I love… this is the love we share… and… This is how I celebrated that love this year…

Happy anniversary, Babe! I can’t wait to feel your arms around me again one day… I love you… always and forever!

What about you? How do you celebrate those special days in your life now? Or do you need support in that area? Would you be willing to share your story or your thoughts?

Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

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… Some things still hurt… That is just the way it is.

There are a few things in life, I wouldn’t wish on anyone… Some I used to say in humor to relieve the stress, such as a colicky baby. With other things, I am completely serious… One of the things that I really wouldn’t wish on anyone is the loss of your soulmate.

Dealing with that these last few years has taught me a lot about people, patience with others… and heartbreak. I have also come to realize this time of year for me, from October 31 through January 12, is the hardest. During this time, there are a lot of important dates filled with precious memories.

It is a season where time moves forward whether I am ready or not… I must go from one holiday or momentous occasion to another… It is like being knocked to the ground and before I can get back on my feet, I am knocked down again.
It starts with Halloween. From there, we move to my and Bruce’s wedding anniversary, Thanksgiving, my birthday, the anniversary of the day we met, Christmas, New Year’s eve/day and the anniversary of Bruce’s death.

I know to brace myself, because before I can catch my breath from one event, the next one is upon me. If I am honest, what I would really like to do is crawl in bed, pull the covers over my head and cry for 2.5 months… but I don’t have that option. I have responsibilities, and life moves on whether I am ready or not.

So over time, my method of survival has been to take a deep breath, draw on my strength, pull my emotions inward… and try to avoid talking about it because that will bring uncontrollable tears. Don’t get me wrong, I do allow myself the time to cry, but I try to hold that for when I am alone… The problem is I am not always successful.

The first year most people understood that these days would be emotional triggers for me and were very empathetic. Now, however, as I go through this for the fourth time, most people (although not everyone) have lost any sense of patience or compassion. The idea that I could still be grieving seems foreign to them. On the one hand, I know they really have no frame of reference, and I can’t change that. On my end though, it just makes the whole thing hurt worse.

For example, there are two days I know to make plans to take off from the world… Our anniversary and the anniversary of Bruce’s death. These are the hardest for me… My emotions are unpredictable from moment to moment… I know that so I choose to be alone and do whatever is needed to bring me comfort and get through the day.

This year is no different. I made my plans months ago… Anyone who knows me well is aware, whether they agree or not. This year, however, other people in my life have things they want me to do. Weeks ago when it was first mentioned (and while I was less emotional), I explained that I already had plans and why.

This week, however, it came up again. I must admit I was already feeling a bit emotional and now I was caught a bit off guard. I quietly restated that I wouldn’t be there. However, there were other people present who questioned why, so I had to explain myself again. My goal was to be succinct and not go into too much detail, but I could feel the tears starting to form in my eyes as I spoke.

This week it all seems a bit harder to talk about… This week I was more emotional… This week was the start of “the season.” I managed to get through Halloween on Monday – Bruce’s favorite time for innocent teasing with the children at the door (not to mention the candy he denied eating). Then this next week, I will face our anniversary – A day I thought we would celebrate together for many years to come.

So this second explanation was much more quiet… And in the frustration of trying to hold back the emotion, I became a flustered. I doubt my explanation made much sense, but I prayed that would be the end of it… We’ve discussed it twice, after all.

But, no. It came up again… Several times actually. I don’t believe any of it was meant to be cruel or to cause me more pain. However, each time it came up I was thrown off guard and found myself trying to defend something I know no one can truly understand if they have never experienced it.

I can’t even remember what I said each time… I only remember feeling the tears filling my eyes as I mumbled an apology, prayed this would be the last conversation about it and waited for the conversation to just move on…

Throughout the week, I found myself going back and forth between feeling understood versus defending my feelings and the need to be alone. It was like being on a roller coaster while trying to balance to staying in control of my emotions.

I heard everything from “We do understand… I can’t imagine how hard it is to find your soulmate and then to lose them without any warning.” to various versions of “why” questioning. I also heard phrases that felt like a cross between “I’m trying to understand” versus “Get over it already.” For example, “You will be fine… There will be no tears ‘that’ day,” and “We understand, but if you want to reconsider that would be okay too… But if you don’t, we won’t say anything.”

Seriously? It has been brought up several times… I don’t feel like anyone understands… While it hasn’t been said outright, I feel like the world keeps telling me, “It has been 4 years. Get over it already and move on”… but I can’t.

I wish I could help others understand it’s not as easy as they think… It’s not a switch that I can turn on and off… Maybe I should be over it, (I know it’s been almost 4 years), but I’m not… I still love him… I miss him… I still hurt…

And that is the bottom line…

While I am hurt by a lot of the conversations this week, I’m not angry. (That is a big sign of growth for me.) Of the two of us, I am the only one that knows both sides of this coin. For others, I know it must be hard when there is no reference point… when someone has never lost the person they loved beyond anything else… The person they thought they would spend the rest of their life with… I understand their need to give “objective” advice… They mean well… They want to help…

However, what I wish they could understand is…

If you really want to help, just walk beside me for while… Cry with me on my hard days and celebrate with me on my good days… That will go a lot farther toward healing than anything else…

What about you? Did you or have you struggled with feeling judged after your loss? How did you come to terms with it? Or do you still need support in that area? Would you be willing to share your story or your thoughts?

Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Who I am

I know I am not who I was;
But I’m not sure I am.
~ Linda, October 2016

For decades, scientists have argued the heredity vs environment theories. Today, most will acknowledge that it is a bit of both. If you had siblings or multiple children, you also most likely agree. Sharing the same DNA does not mean replica children. It is also our experiences that help shape and mold us. They seem to add the details in our life’s tapestry that significantly affect who we become.

In other words, who we are is fluid based on our experiences. Once we have experienced something, we cannot UN-see or UN-hear it… We cannot UN-experience it. So by nature, each experience creates constant change and growth in each of us.

I believe most of us would agree… There is not a lot to argue… or ponder… Until those big experiences knock us off our feet. Then there is a lot to think about…

After my first marriage ended, I realized that I had spent my whole adult life (up to that point) not being myself… Out of fear, I became whatever was needed in any given moment not to anger my first husband. As a consequence, I had lost any idea of myself and who I was. It took several years of being alone to rediscover who I was and have enough confidence to just be me around others.

By the time I met Bruce, I was pretty comfortable with myself. I was still healing, but at the same time, I was learning how to enjoy life and laugh again. Bruce’s unconditional love and acceptance, however, went a long way to helping me love life again… life with him.

With the love we shared, life changed again… It was filled with all the “normal” marriage and family things, but this time our love for each other was at the core of all of it. During this short time together, we both grew… but we grew together.

No matter how bad things appeared on the surface… issues with our kids, money, job loss, moves, or anything else that life threw our way… the central theme was “We love each other, and we can get through this together.”

I had never experienced that before… The idea that I wasn’t alone or on the defensive was new… and wonderful! I must tell you, I flourished. I stopped acting out of fear and learned to be totally comfortable with being me. It was such a freeing way to live. Maybe it sounds crazy, but the connection and acceptance of each other was so strong during this time together, I felt whole or the first time.

Then it all changed…

Bruce died. It felt like the ground beneath my feet crumbled away, as I fell into an abyss. It was lonely and dark… I was lost.

Losing your soulmate feels like your soul has been ripped out;
Leaving nothing but a shell.
A shell that breathes and moves,
But feels no hope…
not anymore.
~Linda, October 2013

Now it is three years later, and I am doing better. I am still sad, but no longer despondent. I am slowly learning how to me… without Bruce… one person – no longer “two as one.”

As time passes, I am noticing ways I am different now… some changes are small and others are pretty big. For example, I am much more quiet than I used to be. I used to talk to everyone, (which was how I met Bruce). Now, while I don’t avoid talking, and I will smile and nod – maybe even say a “hello” – but it takes a lot for me to actually start a conversation. I enjoy life, and I have learned to laugh again, but I am also quite content to be alone – lost in my own thoughts. As a former music and drama teacher, I used to be completely comfortable entertaining, singing or being in front of a crowd. Now, I content to sit back and observe… and I only sing when it is along with the radio, and I am alone.

But, I think the biggest change for me has been trust. I used to trust everyone… until they gave me multiple reasons not to. When Bruce died that all changed.
So many people made empty promises, others just disappeared and still others actually took advantage or tried to take advantage of my situation for their own gain. While none of these will be a surprise to any other widow(er), I was caught completely by surprise. It even reached a point where I didn’t even trust God anymore.

However, through journaling, meditation and studying the books Bruce read, I am learning to trust God/life again. I learning to trust that things will work out the way they should in their own time. Grief has changed me immensely, and I am still learning who I am now. I know I will never be that person I was; I am different now.

But I guess, through this experience I am learning to be who I am meant to be…

New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings…
~ Lao Tzu

What about you? Did you or have you struggled with figuring out who you are after your loss? How did you come to terms with it? Or do you still need support in that area? Would you be willing to share your story or your thoughts?

Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

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… Never good at goodbye

“All I could think about was how you were taken away
and now our house…
our space was going to be taken too.”
~ Linda, Oct 2016

From our first goodbye to this past weekend, I have never been good at saying goodbye to Bruce… And I’m not sure I ever will…

Bruce and I met on a small sailing schooner in the Virgin Islands. We had a beautiful week in paradise and seemed to connect from the moment we met. On the last night of the cruise, reality sunk in, (aka – I got scared), and I told him it wasn’t going anywhere… I said my first goodbye. Then I cried the whole way home. I couldn’t do it. Inside I knew I was walking away from the best thing that had ever happened to me. I knew “goodbye” was not what I really wanted.

My first goodbye and already, I knew I couldn’t do it.

As soon as I arrived back home, I emailed Bruce and asked if he could forgive me enough to at least be friends. Six weeks later, we both knew it was a lot more than a friendship… This was going to be forever.

On my first trip to Michigan, I remember seeing his smiling face as I hurried down the passageway in the airport to the best hug (and kiss) ever! It was a wonderful weekend… like something out of a fairy tale. However, the idea of leaving and saying goodbye, started the flow of silent tears from the moment I awoke on the last day… and as I looked at Bruce, I caught him wiping his own eyes more than a few times. At the airport, we both sat silently holding on to each until the last possible moment… Yes, we were that couple. Then, once again, I found myself crying quietly on a dark plane all the way home.

Our second goodbye, and again, I knew this was the part of our relationship I hated.

The next few months found us taking turns flying back and forth between Michigan and South Carolina. Each trip started with the same total joy of being together again and ended with the same complete sadness at saying goodbye.

During the summer of that year, we planned for me to go to Michigan so we could spend those months together. Since I was driving (and in order to spend as much time together as possible), Bruce flew to SC and drove back up with me. At the end of the summer, the idea of goodbye was overwhelming for both of us. As we rode back to SC, we both got more and more quiet the further south we drove. The idea of another tear filled goodbye was even harder after so many months of being together.

It seemed like the stronger our relationship, the deeper our love and the harder it was to say goodbye.

I remember after several months, Bruce’s Dad asked us how long we thought we could keep this up… How long until we quit saying goodbye and got married? I will always remember Bruce’s answer… “Until it gets so hard to say goodbye, we just can’t do it anymore.” Prophetically, that ended up being our reality less then six weeks later.

Once that decision was made, things moved fast. Within less than a month plans were made for a move to Michigan and a small, quiet wedding. The weekend before the move, Bruce flew down to help with last minute move preparations. It was an exciting weekend for both of us, knowing that the endless cycle of “goodbyes” would soon be over. It’s funny, but even then… even knowing that we were about to be together for the rest of forever, it was still hard to say goodbye at the end of the weekend… Even knowing we would see each other in just a few short days, neither of us could say goodbye without tears.

For the next few years, Bruce and I rarely spent a night apart. In fact, even saying goodbye on workday mornings resulted in long hugs. How in the world were we to know how short this time together would be… and a final goodbye would come all to soon?

But it did come… in a breath… in the middle of the night… Bruce’s heart stopped and nothing I (or anyone else) could do would bring him back. I remember being allowed to stay with him until the Medical Examiner came to pick him up. I remember touching his face, holding his hand, kissing his forehead… knowing it would be the last time.

When the time finally came, with tears pouring down my face, I said goodbye… for the last time.

However, as most of you know from reading this blog, accepting the idea that that was really our final goodbye has been a struggle for me. I find myself, even now 3+ years later, still half-expecting him to walk back through our door… I still feel his presence next to me… And I still find myself “talking” to him. (I know it probably sounds crazy… unless you have been where I am.)

Up until this past week, I thought I had said all of my goodbyes to Bruce.

However, as one family out of thousands living on the Florida Atlantic coast, we were facing a category 4 Hurricane Matthew. In Florida, the only mandatory evacuations were on the barrier islands… However, even our area was expecting a 9 -11 foot storm surge, so we made the decision to evacuate as well.

So after hauling everything from the yard and porches into the garage and putting up the hurricane shutters, I found myself face to face with another goodbye… Goodbye to our home… The space Bruce and I had shared… It seemed so unreal. I had already lost the man I love… the man who still owns my heart… and now I had to face the fact that this space we had shared, might very well be taken too. It seemed so wrong. As we loaded the cars and headed west, I held onto Bruce’s jacket (one of the few things I chose to bring along) and cried.

Once again, even though I thought I had made so much progress, I found I was still no good at saying goodbye.

But, God is good… three days later, we returned to find not a thing wrong with our home. The landscaping needed some work and everything needed to be put back in its place, but we were spared… We were blessed…

And… I have learned that I may never be good at saying goodbye to Bruce… and maybe that’s okay.

Note: I would like to thank each of you for your prayers and good thoughts over the last week as my family and I dealt with Hurricane Matthew.

What about you? Did you (or do you) struggle with saying goodbye after your loss? How do you handle it? Or do you still need support in that area? Would you be willing to share your story or your thoughts?

Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

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… More questions than answers

Either you can see God in all things or
you can see God in no things.
~ Fr. Richard Rohr

When we can still see God (use whatever name you choose) in all things, we are better equipped to have hope, see choices and keep trying. It is when we can no longer see or feel God anywhere that we run out of options… and hope. It is a hard place to be. In my job, we sometimes deal with people whose family members have have been there… Unable to see any other option, they chose to end their own lives. It is absolutely heart wrenching to help the surviving family members work through this one piece of the “business” of death. I don’t think I have ever gotten through one of these encounters without crying a few tears myself.

In my own small “world,” I have been pretty sheltered. Whenever I hear of someone who has committed suicide, it has always been an acquaintance – never a close friend or family member. Still, it always makes me pause and cry… both for the family left to grieve and wonder how it ever came to this and for the person whose pain was so deep they felt this was the only choice left.

This week I received word that a classmate from high school died… Even more sad, he had committed suicide. I was shocked when I first heard. In fact, every time I think about it, it still makes me sad. I can’t imagine the depth of his despair…

I know after Bruce died, there were times when I was so sad and low… so completely lonely. I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of my life without him… alone… There were many times when I wondered why I was still here. What purpose did I serve now? My life seemed to be an endless cycle of waking, working, eating and sleeping… Only to do it all over again the next day… alone. It all seemed so pointless.

I can remember saying endless prayers asking God to just let me die, too. After all, I reasoned, no one needed me anyone. I remember begging Bruce to come back and “get me.” I was definitely at the lowest point I have ever been. I believe some of us (especially widows and widowers) have been there at one time or another in our grief. However, the difference is – we are still here… Somehow, we managed to find a way back out of that darkness.

The idea that not everyone is able to find their way out of that darkness is hard to accept.

I have heard some people say it is a “sin,” while others call it “selfish.” I can’t say I agree with either of those views. I don’t believe it is that simple. Besides, both of those ideas are completely unfair. They both blame the victim, and allow the rest of us to wash our hands and walk away with a clean conscience. That’s ridiculous! Why in the world do we feel the need to blame anyone?

Why can’t we admit there may not be an answer to such a tragedy… Why can’t we look at what has occurred, realize we may not have caused it; we may not have been aware of it; and we may not have been able to stop it?

At the same time, maybe we could also take a moment to realize the part we all play in each others’ lives… our responsibility to simply care… to simply be the love and acceptance we all seek from the world around us. Maybe then, through simple gestures of caring, we can make a difference…

What is suicide?
Is it the sudden taking of one’s own life?
Is it that simple?
Is it the slow denial that something is wrong?
Is it depression so deep that you feel your very soul is gone?
Is the real death emotional and the physical act is just the ending punctuation?
Is it a rejection of one’s circumstances?
Or is it because one has been rejected by circumstances?
Is it an ending or a fresh start in a better place?
Is it a choice or does one feel that there is no choice?
Is it a selfish act or a desperate attempt to escape one’s own demons?
Is it a rejection of society or is it a response to society’s rejection?
I do not know the answer… but I have known those feelings.
While we are not responsible for the actions of those around us,
We do have a responsibility to those around us.
We can reach out, hold a hand or give a hug.
We can listen. We can be a friend.
What is suicide?
It is a cry in the darkness…
Are you listening?
~ Linda, September 2013

What about you? Did you or have you struggled with fear after your loss? How did you come to terms with it? Or do you still need support in that area? Would you be willing to share your story or your thoughts?

Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

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 cry…

Don’t cry… Most of us have heard this all our lives. As a child when a favorite toy was lost… “Don’t cry.” When a pet was lost or your best friend moved… “Don’t cry.” As a teen, when your first love broke your heart… “Don’t cry.” And even as an adult when life throws you a curve ball… “Don’t cry.”

Don’t get me wrong… For the most part, I don’t remember hearing this in a reprimanding tone. It was always said gently and with love. It is a “normal” response, I suppose, when someone is crying. But, honestly, did it ever stop your tears? … Because it never stopped mine.

In fact, this week while watching TV, I heard a mother consoling her adult daughter with those exact words… and it made me think… Why? Why not cry? Why is it so wrong to cry as a response to hurt and loss? Why do we do that to each other?

I remember when Bruce died, people were patient with my tears for a little while… a very little while. After just a few short weeks, I started hearing the words “don’t cry” a lot. Most of the time it was said gently, and I knew it was meant to console. However, there were others who, I believe, were simply uncomfortable with the tears… or truly felt that it was downright wrong to cry. I heard it stated so many ways, such as:

“Don’t cry. You’re not the only one to ever lose someone.”
“Don’t cry. If you have faith, you should believe he’s in a better place.”
“Don’t cry. You can choose to feel better or have a better attitude.”
“Don’t cry in the office or in public. It looks weak.”
“Don’t cry. Be strong.”
“Don’t cry. What will others think?”

Good grief! What will others think? Wouldn’t they think I am sad because my husband died? Is that so bad?

If you listen closely to each of these reasons not to cry, shame is at the core. Which makes me wonder why shame become the tool used to dispel grief? What a crazy place this is when we believe there a time limit to tears of grief, and anything beyond that “limit” is wrong. Research has shown us that it is unhealthy to avoid or deny our grief. Yet, society still charges down the “be tough or be shamed” path.

I understand that my tears and grief may make some people uncomfortable, but maybe that is not my responsibility. Maybe that discomfort is created because in our culture most of us have never learned how to deal with grief. Instead. it is treated like a taboo topic… something that is definitely expected up to a point as ling as we don’t get carried away. If one grieves “too long,” shame will begin to seep into the picture.

Honestly, I have been frustrated for a long time with the reality of pushing my feelings down deep in order to make others more comfortable. However, it wasn’t until these last few weeks that I finally realized this shame aspect and how efficiently it works.

My first realization happened with my grandson. We were having a simple conversation about his day when suddenly he burst into tears about a recent loss that cuts deep into his core. We were in the car, and there wasn’t a lot I could do in the moment. As I reached out to hand him a tissue, I ALMOST said it… “Don’t cry, Baby. It will be okay.” But as the thoughts were forming in my mind, I stopped.

No… That was not what I wanted to say, nor what I wanted him to take away from our encounter. Instead, I told him, “It’s okay to cry, Baby. I know it hurts. You go ahead and cry… I’m here with you.” He’s only 7 so the tears didn’t last very long. Hopefully, however, he will remember that his feelings are valid, and it is okay to grieve his loss. As for me, all I could think was how I wished more people had allowed me that small bit of space… space to cry and grieve for a few moments when the pain of my loss crossed my heart.

My second (and more eye opening) realization came a day or two later. I was having one of “THOSE” days… One of those days when I missed Bruce beyond words. One of those days when the pain and grief felt all new and fresh, as if it had happened just yesterday. A day when I would have given my soul for just one more hug… one more smile. .. one more moment.

Yet as sad as I felt, I got up, got dressed and forced a smile to my face as I walked into my office. Only those closest to me could tell something was “off,” and only one or two actually knew what it was. As the day progressed and my mood started cycling lower and lower, I found myself shoving my emotions further and further down and trying to smile that much more. “Don’t let them see your pain today,” I thought. “Don’t cry.”

And I didn’t… Instead, I waited until I was alone in my car heading home… I waited until I felt “safe.” However, when I finally gave myself “permission” to cry, I found I couldn’t… not really. I was sad and I needed to work through all that stuff I had been shoving down all day, but somehow I still couldn’t allow myself to let go. Instead, I was talking myself out of it.

What if someone called and could hear it in my voice? What if someone saw me?
Then it hit me….Oh my gosh! I had let the shame behind all those “don’t cry’s” become so accepted and ingrained, I was doing it to myself! That was nuts! Good heavens! What shame is there in grieving? I know better! I know all those “don’t cry’s” are wrong. Instead, of “don’t cry,” we need to say…

“Go ahead and cry. This hurts… You’re the only one to ever lose this person in this time.”
“Go ahead and cry. Faith has nothing to do with it. God will hold you and comfort you. He understands your pain.”
“Go ahead and cry. You can choose your attitude, and today it is perfectly okay to choose feeling sad. You can choose to feel better or have a better attitude another day or another time.”
“Go ahead and cry in the office. It is not weak… It is honest and vulnerable… That takes real courage.”
“Go ahead and cry. That takes real strength.”
“Go ahead and cry. Who cares what others may think?”

This lesson has taken me a while, but I have finally realized that it takes more strength and courage to be honest about my grief than to hide it. There may even be a lot of people who will disagree… But I would bet most of them have never walked one step (much less a mile) in my moccasins (as the saying goes).

So… If there is one thing I have learned from all of this “don’t cry” business, it is this…

It is okay and normal to express grief with tears. It takes courage and strength to lay it out there for the world with no apologies. So… if you ever find yourself consoling someone or being consoled, drop the “don’t.” Instead,…

Go ahead and cry…

What about you? Did anyone ever tell you “don’t cry?” Are you still struggling with the shame of grieving past society’s “approved time limit?” Do you need support in that area? Or would you be willing to share your story or your thoughts?

Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

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

Peace, Love and Grief… You Can’t Go Back

Come home…
Come home and hold me.
I am lost without you, my other half.
I search for you…
In the darkness,
In each room,
In each dream,
In each corner of my soul.
Please…
Come home.
~ Linda, November 2013

I wrote this poem 11 months after Bruce passed away. At the time, it was all I could think about. I wanted Bruce back. I wanted our life back. Day and night I prayed to wake up from the nightmare that had become my reality… But I never “woke up”… and Bruce never came back home. This was my life, and this was going to always be my life.

One would think that with time, those feelings would pass. I would eventually reconcile myself to “what is”… But I haven’t. Even now, several years later, I want him back… Each journal begins “Dear Bruce…” as if it is a long letter about my day to day happenings. Each day, I write to tell him how much I miss him and still love him… And I still ask him to “come home.” Each entry written as if one day he will read it… but I am well aware – he won’t.

This week as I scrolled through Face Book looking at what my friends and family around the world have been up to, I found myself looking at quite a few anniversary posts. I hate to admit it, but those are a struggle for me. It is a struggle because while I am truly happy for them, I find I am very sad for me… And a little jealous… (Embarrassing but true.)

These things just seem to stir up a miriad of questions for me. Things I don’t undertand and probably never will. Why did Bruce have to die? Why couldn’t we have grown old together? Why couldn’t we celebrate more anniversaries together? Why us?

So while it may sound crazy, here I am 3.5 years later still wishing I could wake up… still wishing this had never happened … still wishing I could go back in time… but knowing this is my reality… And a bit embarrassed to admit I still haven’t accepted it.

I know I’m not alone in my thoughts, though. I have talked to so many other widows and most of them will admit to the same thing. Why, then, are we too embarrassed to speak up? While I can’t talk for everyone, I know a big part of my hesitation comes from the culture around me.

I have found that most people want to help, but at the same time, most people don’t understand what I am going through. They mean well… They want to say the “right thing” and their hearts are in the right place… But the tendency throughout this ordeal has been to throw cliches in my direction…

“He’s in a better place.”
“He led a full life.”
“God has a reason.”
“God needed another angel.”
“Be strong. Don’t cry. Keep a stiff upper lip.”
” Praise God. Celebrate that he has gone on to a better place.”
“At least you can date and marry again.”
“This is just what was meant to be. All things must pass”
“Good thing you are strong enough to handle this.”
“The living must go on.”
“Get a hold of yourself. God will never give you more than you can handle.”
“Just give it time. If your faith is real, you will be okay.”
… and the list goes on and on

Here is the thing about cliches… they SUCK! They may sound good but they have absolutely nothing to do with reality.

If you have never experienced a deep loss such as that of a spouse or child, knowing what to say can be a struggle. As a culture, we want to say something that sounds encouraging. Since the cliches we have heard throughout our lives sound like wise advice, they will often come into play.

The interesting thing is I have never heard any of these cliches from other widows or widowers. Why? Because knowing and understanding the pain of grief requires first hand experience… and they have that. In fact, now I have that too… although I still wish I didn’t. With first hand experience, comes the knowledge that there are no “right words.” Just “being there” and showing you care means so much more than words could ever accomplish.

In the past, whenever I dared to mention that I wished I could go back in time or I wished Bruce were still here and those cliches were the answer, I would get angry or frustrated. Now, as time has passed, even though they bring no comfort, I’m learning to be okay with it. Now, I’m able to understand that their hearts are in the right place. So even if the words are terrible, I can be thankful for a heart that wants to help.

Nowadays, I want people to understand I will be okay… but “being okay” includes grieving the loss of “what was.” That pain will always be with me in some form or another. However, when the cliches come my way now, my response sounds more like a quote from The Grief Recovery Handbook by John James & Russell Friedman – “Grief is about a broken heart, not a broken brain.” Please, don’t feel like you need to fix me… just be with me a while.

As for me, while I wish otherwise, I really do know I can’t go back in time… I know Bruce is gone… I also know my life is moving forward… one small step at a time. I think Rob Bell sums it all up when he says…

“You don’t go back when it comes to suffering… You go through.”

And that is my plan each day… to be thankful for what was, acknowledge what is and accept my feelings as they present themselves… as I move through my grief and take the next step on my path…

I love the quiet before the world wakes up.
The stillness in the air
As if the entire world were holding its breath in anticipation
Of what this new day will bring.
~ Linda, September, 2013

What about you? Did you or have you struggled with accepting your loss? How did you come to terms with it? Or do you still need support in that area? Would you be willing to share your story or your thoughts?

Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

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