peace – Page 32 – Peace, Love & Grief

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

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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

Peace, Love and Grief… That Moment When You Know

You did not die alone.
I held you as you took your last breath.
I called your name as you struggled to survive.
I loved you then, and I love you now.
You died knowing you were loved.
You did not die alone…
~ Linda, Oct 2013

There are some moments in life that are permanently engraved on our brains and in our hearts. For example, if you were alive when Kennedy was shot, you likely remember that exact moment when you heard the news. Or how about 9/11? I can remember the moment I heard the news like it was yesterday. I was standing in my classroom waiting for my first class to arrive… It felt like the very ground beneath my feet had disappeared.

Those were huge events we can all relate to, because these were events shared by millions. But what about our individual “huge events?” What about those moments when our own worlds stopped? For me, that moment is also permanently etched in my mind…

I’ve written about that night many times, but this is about the moment when I knew…

I had no idea where things were headed when I first woke up and heard Bruce struggling. In fact, I was worried he would be upset and tell me I had over-reacted by calling 911. Even as I was doing CPR and waiting for the Emergency Responders to arrive, I kept thinking he would be embarrassed by all the attention… He hated to be the center of attention.

Once the Emergency Responders arrived, I stood outside the bedroom looking in. As I watched them working… I realized what was happening.

They quickly moved Bruce from the bed to the floor just inside the room. There were three men. Two of them worked on Bruce, while the third walked back and forth – asking me questions and giving them directions. I watched as they performed CPR, inserted an epipen into his heart, and finally used the defibrillator paddles…

No matter what they tried, the line on the heart monitor remained flat.

“You know someone is going to die because you know we’re all going to die – you know it in your brain. But then there’s a moment when that truth drops from your brain to your heart, like an elevator in free fall, and lands with a thud.” ~ Rob Bell, How to be Here

I felt as if everything in me was screaming as I watched my worst nightmare unfold before my eyes. I would swear to you, I was screaming this whole time… Screaming his name… Begging him to come back. But in actuality, I didn’t make a sound… Instead, the silence in our house was deafening.

I knew… But I didn’t want to know…

I watched as they looked at each other… Not a word was spoken, but I knew what that look meant… It was resignation… There was nothing more to try… They continued to pump air into his lungs, as they lifted him onto a gurney and moved him to the ambulance. The man who had seemed in charge started cleaning up the trash and debris from their life-saving attempts.

As for me… I just stood there… watching… I knew… But I didn’t want to know…

I remember the man in charge asked if I wanted someone to drive me to the hospital… At first, I said, “No, I can drive myself.” While in my head, I thought, “For goodness sake! Why aren’t they just going already? Why are they cleaning? Why are they taking their time? Why aren’t they rushing to the hospital?”

But… I knew… I knew the answers to all those questions… “Yes… yes, please… Could someone drive me, after all?”

We waited – all of us – until a squad car came to drive me. Then, we all left in a very, quiet procession – no sirens, no racing… Just a quiet, slow drive through town. As I rode in the back of the squad car, I made my first call to my parents. I remember my mouth felt like it was filled with cotton… every piece of me felt numb… surreal…

“Momma? Daddy? It’s me… Linda… I’m on my way to the hospital… I think Bruce died.”

I remember that moment…
You took one last breath…
Your life ended in that moment.
It felt like mine did too.
Now you are beside me always –
Watching me, guiding me…
Still loving me.
And… I remember.
~ Linda, Oct 2013

Each of us dealing with loss can remember the moment we learned our loved one was gone. Their life ended, and for many of us, it felt like ours did too. We all know death is a part of life, but somehow when it happens, we aren’t ready. We know it is real, but we don’t want it to be. Do you remember that moment? Would you be willing to share your story or thoughts? To do so, go to the comments and leave a note. *

Who knows… your story may hold hope for someone else.

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

Peace, Love and Grief… It’s Not a sore Throat

I don’t remember a whole lot about the beginning of this journey… Not really…

I do remember every moment of the night Bruce died. Despite the time that has passed, I relive that night over and over… Still trying to grasp the fact that it happened… It was real, and this is my life now.

However, the days, weeks and even months that followed are not so clear. In fact, they are quite blurry. I remember some things, like picking up Bruce’s ashes from the funeral home, long (crying) walks on the beach, his memorial, doing endless paperwork and going back to work for the first time.

However, conversations or day to day things are completely lost. Apparently that is not unusual. Each of us reacts to the loss of a loved one differently. Some people do what most people expect… They appear to “fall apart,” but this is what the world sees as “normal.” So, most people are not surprised by this and are willing to dive in and “help.” Others, however, don’t respond this way… Instead, they appear to be holding it together… They appear to be strong… The world is surprised by this and will usually comment about “how strong” they are and leave them to their own devices.

I definitely wasn’t like the first one. I didn’t take to my bed or hide from the world for months. (Although, there have been many times through the years I have wished I had… or could.) Instead, I immediately came home and started a list of what needed to be done – people to call, cleaning, cooking, etc. And, two weeks later, I was back at work.

People were shocked to see me there, but I knew I couldn’t sit at home by myself. The idea of that terrified me… I was afraid I would fall apart and never be able to pull it back together again. I was too scared of letting myself feel too much…

I can’t really say how productive I was at work that first year, because honestly, I can’t remember. I know I did a lot of traveling over the next few years for work… anything to avoid being home alone.

I, also, remember people saying how strong I was… But I knew better. I wasn’t strong… I was in shock, I was numb. I felt so totally and completely lost. I didn’t know what to do with myself other than work… So, I did a lot of that – either at the office or at home… Anything to avoid sitting down and facing my world without Bruce. Each day felt like the next – I was just going through the motions… And praying for something to give.

Don’t get me wrong… It wasn’t like I didn’t cry at all or grieve or feel angry… I felt all those things. I just tried to limit the times I would allow myself to go down that rabbit hole for fear of what people would say… But, grief, will have its way eventually… It won’t be ignored forever.

Over time, the wall I had tried to build got more and more holes in it. At some point in that first year, there were so many holes in my wall, I didn’t know what to do. Grief tends to come in waves, and those waves were getting closer and closer. It became harder and harder to hold on.

People began to ask what was wrong with me… After all, I had been doing so well. Some people suggested counseling, others told me to get a hold of myself, and still others couldn’t handle it and put some distance between us.

There is something about grief I wish people understood, though… It isn’t like a sore throat.

It doesn’t follow a process of hurting, getting better, and then, all done – it’s gone. So to say, “You were fine yesterday (or last week, or whenever). Now what’s wrong?” is out of touch with the reality of grief. And as the person grieving, if I buy into that mentality, I am doing all of us a disservice.

Grief is what it is… It comes and goes in waves. Those waves can vary in size as well as distance apart… All of that is out of my control. Ignoring it is not healthy. Totally giving in to it is not healthy either. Allowing others to dictate what is normal or allowed is also not helpful.

However, this is what I have found. There are no simple answers… There are no checklists to make it all better. Instead, the only thing that really is in my control, is to recognize what is happening, (look for support if it looks like a rough wave) and work my way through it the best I can. Sometimes it is not too bad, and other times it is a real struggle.

But either way, allowing myself to experience what I feel without condemnation is the best way to get through to the other side, and continue moving forward.

Each of us dealing with loss knows what a tough road this can be. I don’t think it is ever an easy one to accept. Often when the waves of grief hit us, we are as surprised as the people around us. Standing up for what we know we need can be hard, as the people around us want to tell us how to handle it… or want to “fix us.” Have you ever felt that way? Would you be willing to share your story or thoughts? To do so, go to the comments and leave a note. *

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Three Little Words

I will admit, this week had its moments. For the most part, I was fine… I was able to shove my emotions to the back and push forward through each day. (Maybe not the healthiest but it got me through.) But, let’s be honest, this week was all about love and relationships. If you went out in public at all, you know it was impossible to ignore… And when the person you love is gone, it is even harder to smile through the celebration.

It was sweet to watch my grandson prepare each Valentines card for his classmates. I was even able to smile as my friends at work received roses from their “significant others.” I was truly happy for them – I remember the joy of knowing there was someone in my life who loved me and wanted the world to know, as well. However, those same sweet moments also have a way of reminding me of all I have lost, which in turn tends to bring tears to my eyes…

I may have told this story before. Please excuse me if I have, but this week finds me reminiscing…

Bruce and I met on a 100-year-old sailing schooner in the Virgin Islands during the week between Christmas and New Year’s. I can’t tell you why, but we connected almost right away. When the week ended, we both went our separate ways, but neither of us were sure what the future would hold.

During the weeks that followed, we talked and/or emailed daily… The relationship was new… There were a lot of miles between us… We were still trying to figure this out… Or at least, I was. (He always said he knew that week on the ship.)

Several weeks later on Valentine’s Day, I watched as roses and candy were delivered to the other teachers in my school. I hadn’t really expected anything… The relationship was too new, but the romantic in me still wished. At the end of the day, I was called to the office for a pick up.

In true “Bruce” style, he had not sent anything traditional. Instead, he sent an “island bear” holding a dozen roses and a note that read, “Happy Valentine’s Day! I hope you like the ‘Island Bear.’ He is going to look great on our boat in the islands!” It was perfect! He hadn’t done anything “traditional” … Instead, he had put some real thought and feeling into this… It wasn’t anything “normal,” which made it exactly perfect for us.

Two days later, I found myself on an airplane heading to Michigan for the holiday weekend. We both knew we needed to figure out what “this thing” between us really was. While he had offered to come south to see me, I had nixed that idea. I lived in a small town at the time. I knew if we wanted any privacy or time alone to figure things out, my town would not be the place. So instead, I was flying north… And I was terrified.

What if he wasn’t the nice guy he portrayed? What if things went sour right away? What if…? What would I do?

I’ll never forget, getting off that plane and walking down the ramp. (I was so scared!) But, there at the end of the ramp, was the man I remembered – leaning against the wall and smiling at me with all the tenderness I had remembered. He took my bag and tossed it in the back of his truck as we headed to dinner. Then after dinner, we headed to my hotel, said our good-nights and made plans for the next day.

The next day was quite an adventure for me… Bruce had hoped to fulfill one of my childhood fantasies and take me for a sleigh ride, but there wasn’t enough snow on the ground. (However, he did make good on that promise a couple of years later… also for Valentine’s Day.) However, that day he took me to see Lake Michigan (icebergs and all) and an ice carving competition through the center of town. Afterward, we warmed up with some spiced rum and cider in a cozy water-front pub. It was a magical day! By the end of it, we both knew…

That evening as we were getting ready to meet his sisters for dinner, Bruce took me in his arms, kissed me, and said, “I don’t want to scare you off, but I’ve fallen in love with you.” I don’t remember exactly what I said… I believe it was something like “I think I’ve fallen in love with you, too.” All I truly remember is the feeling that this was right… It was everything fairy tales are made of and more… because this was us, and it was real.

And the rest is history, as they say…

So those have been my memories this week… I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself on Valentine’s Day. No… I was simply remembering the precious moments associated with this week…

It was the anniversary of our first “I love you.” It was the memory of those three little words and the moment when we both knew this was not just a shipboard romance… This was a forever thing…

And I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Babe… I (still) love you!

I am so thankful for the memories…
I just wish they weren’t memories…
I wish they were now.
~ Linda, February 2015

Each of us dealing with loss knows what a tough road this can be. I don’t think it is ever an easy one to accept. Often it is in the everyday simple things where we are reminded of our loss and grief. This last week holds its own challenges as we watched the rest of the world celebrate those they love. Learning to smile as we reminisce our own loved ones can present a real challenge. Have you ever felt that way? Would you be willing to share your story or thoughts? To do so, go to the comments and leave a note. *

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

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