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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… 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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… 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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… That Dreaded Box

I remember when I joined a local Grief Support Group… It was five years ago… a mere two weeks after Bruce passed away. There were some interesting topics up for discussion each week… Things I had never even thought about until Bruce was gone. I felt so discombobulated because even the most basic and simple things in life had suddenly become a struggle. These were the things up for discussion… And I learned a lot through those discussions.

For the most part, I usually agreed with the leader and the majority of the group. However, there were also times when I didn’t… But I was okay with that… After all, they kept reiterating that grief is an individual thing… No two people would ever have the exact same grief experience because each relationship we had lost was different. That was the encouragement I needed at a time when I felt I was losing my grip on reality.

However, of all those discussions, the one I still remember with the most clarity was about “the box.”

When it first came up, I didn’t even know what they were talking about. What box? Everyone else in the room seemed to know exactly what was meant by “the box,” but I was only two weeks on this journey and had no idea. Then, the girl next to me leaned over and asked if I had faced that moment yet… What moment? What box?…

She shook her head and let the tears fall as she explained that even a year later, she still could not manage to check that dreaded Marital Status box labeled “Widowed.” Up until that moment, I hadn’t even thought about that… Filling out forms is such a mundane part of everyday life. We do it all the time – online, in doctor offices, for purchases, and the list goes on and on.

Then, the thought hit me – from that moment forward, every time I filled out a form with personal information, I would be confronted with the reminder that “Bruce is gone, and I am here alone”… From that moment forward, I would no longer check the “Married” box… Instead, I would need to check the “Widowed” box. But that felt so wrong! I still felt married…

As soon as I got home that night, I decided to take this one by the horns and tackle it right away. There was only one place I could think of at that moment where “the box” would be… I opened my Face Book account and changed my status from “Married” to “Widowed.” I just wanted to go ahead and get that first time out of the way.

As I hit “Save,” I realized I had done it… It was in the safety and privacy of my own home… our home. The tears fell, and the sobs were loud, but I did it… And I did it on my terms… Not in some office surrounded by strangers, but in our space… A space filled with reminders of our love.

Over the years, I have filled out tons of forms. I have checked that box so many times I’ve lost count. Yet, each time I still find myself choking up and fighting to maintain my emotions. I remind myself that it is only a form… To the rest of the world, it is simply an annoyance… nothing more. The idea of someone getting emotional over a form is just plain weird. So… I check the box and move on.

Until this week…

In preparation for a doctor’s appointment, I was sent a stack of paperwork to fill out… I expected it… It was no surprise. However, the surprise came when I got to the “Marital Status” section. My choices were “Married,” “Divorced,” or “Single.” Wait?? What?? Where was the “Widowed” box? I had to think about it…

Divorced doesn’t fit at all, and technically, I’m not married… But single? No, I don’t think of myself as single… That doesn’t work at all. In fact, if I am honest, I still feel married. So, what do you call it when you still feel married, but your spouse has died?… Oh, yeah… You call that widowed!

I was really shocked that the box was missing, but it took me less than 30 seconds to decide what to do. I added a box, wrote “Widowed,” and checked it.

It’s funny… For so many years, I have dreaded that box. Every time I have checked it, my stomach has lurched just a bit. Yet, when the box wasn’t there, I felt lost. I didn’t quite know what to do. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say I love that box. After all, it’s still a reminder that the person I love is no longer here. Instead, I guess that box and I will always have a love/hate relationship. Yet, when I get down to it – that’s who I am…

It is where life has landed me, and I guess finally accepting that is a step forward in its own way.

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. It’s not what we planned or what we wanted. Often it is in the everyday simple things where we are reminded of our loss and grief. Learning to accept even those small moments can present its own challenges. 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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… That’s Not What I Ordered!

I never thought I would live without you…
But I do.
I never thought I would spend the holidays alone…
But I have.
I never thought I would celebrate life’s joys alone…
But I will.
I don’t know what I am supposed to learn from all of this…
But I keep searching…
There must be something…
I just need to find it.
~ Linda, 2013

We have a great Mexican restaurant in our town. The food is always fresh, and the servers are attentive and hard-working. In my experience, the only drawback seems to be language barriers. Between my Spanish and their English, we can usually understand each other. However, there have been times when I what ordered and what I received were two different things.

Obviously, I can’t say this is the only restaurant where this has happened, because I’m sure if you have ever eaten out, you too have experienced something similar. Over my lifetime, it has happened many times and in many places. I’ll also admit, if it looks okay or it’s not a major difference, I won’t usually say anything – I’ll just go ahead and eat it. (Although, in the back of my mind, I can’t help but think it wasn’t what I ordered.) However, if it isn’t at all to my taste, whether it is good or bad is irrelevant. At that point, I’ll usually let them know it wasn’t what I ordered…

So, either way, I guess that is bottom line… Good or bad… When it isn’t what I ordered, there is disappointment on some level, .

When I was thinking about this the other day, I couldn’t help but compare this to my life right now.

People will ask me how I’m doing or make a comment about how much “better” I’m doing… And all I can think is they have no idea. This grief thing is not a positive vs negative thing… It’s not about feeling better today than I did yesterday about losing Bruce, nor is it about healing… That’s all crap!

I will always miss Bruce. I will always wish he were still here beside me. There really isn’t anything positive to feel here. Instead, when they ask me, I find myself thinking, “This isn’t what I thought my life was going to be. This isn’t what we had planned.” In other words, “This isn’t what I ordered!”

But that isn’t what I say… Because unlike my restaurant experiences, it doesn’t matter if I like this or not… Or if I can make do or not. I don’t have the option of sending this back and getting what I wanted. Instead, I simply have keep on going and learn to live with it…

However, this is where my choice to be positive or negative kicks in.

This is where I have to decide how I want to experience the rest of my life… Do I want to live my life in bitterness and frustration over what isn’t? Or do I want to live my life focusing on the (sometimes hidden) blessings of each day?

Admittedly, some days are harder than others. I don’t reprimand myself for those days… I let myself feel what I feel. Those emotions are valid and need to be addressed. However, I also don’t want that to be my primary outlook on life.

Instead, remembering to find the blessings of each day is my goal. Reminding myself that the river doesn’t try to push the rocks out of its way, but instead, flows around them… This is my goal, and I know I have to do it one day at a time. So, each morning, I pray that “Just for today, I will appreciate my blessings.”

This is my way of remembering that life is made up of both positive and negative… It is what I choose to focus on, that will determine my outlook… And that is a day by day, moment by moment experience.

“Don’t run from negative or to positive – both are a part of life.” ~ Dr. Susan Delaney

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. It’s not what we planned or what we wanted. I know finding the blessings in life can be easier some days than others, but I can’t let myself give up… even on the tough days. 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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Recalculating

They call it a grief journey,
But isn’t it really just my life journey
With a turn I didn’t expect?
My initial reaction is fear that I am lost;
This was a wrong turn.
But in time,
I know I will get my bearings
And keep moving forward.
~ Linda, September 2013

I don’t know if there is anyone else out there who still uses an old-fashioned GPS system. You know… The kind the sits on the dash versus using your phone. Well, I do… (I can’t really say why, except it is what I prefer.) If you know what I am talking about, then you may also remember what happens when you fail to follow its directions…

First, it will try to direct you to turn around… For example, “In 100 yards, make a U-turn.” The thing is when this usually happens, it is because I am choosing to go a different way. So, when I also fail to make the required U-turn, it will start saying, “Recalculating, Recalculating,” as it tries to find a new way to reach the intended destination.

Not too long ago, on a trip to NC, I plugged the address to the hotel into the contraption incorrectly. I simply transposed two letters. And wouldn’t you know it, both roads exist in this town. After driving further and further in what felt like the wrong direction, I found myself in a very dark, scary part of the town. It was late at night and everything was closed.

Looking around for a place that seems well lit, I decided to turn around and pull into a grocery store parking lot to get my bearings. Of course, my GPS immediately started insisting that I turn around and resume my journey. By the time I finally parked under one of the parking lot lamps, it seemed to be in a panic. It couldn’t seem to find the direction of my car in relation to the roads, as the voice kept “screaming” at me, “RECALCULATING! RECALCULATING!”

I sat there for a few minutes, crying in frustration (and probably a little fear), as I tried to figure out where I was, where I wanted to be, and why I was heading in the (now obviously) wrong direction. For the record, I ended up calling for help, and eventually found my hotel. But, that’s not why I am relaying this story.

Later, when I was thinking about what had happened, it dawned on me what a perfect metaphor for grief!

When Bruce was alive, we were both content and happy. Life was going the way we thought it should. Don’t get me wrong, life wasn’t perfect. Like anyone else, we had the occasional “lane change” or “unexpected turn,” but it was never anything we couldn’t manage together. For example, there was the time Bruce’s company closed unexpectedly, and he was suddenly unemployed. Or the multiple times, my X would decide to do his “stalking/harassing” thing. Or the inevitable crises that are a part of raising teenagers. (And the list goes on…)

But, when Bruce passed away, it was as if my life had taken a path of its own. I found myself begging the universe/God (or whatever word you want to use) to turn back around! I wanted my old life back! This was not the direction I wanted to travel.

It didn’t take long for me to realize there was no turning back. That was when I felt completely lost. I didn’t know which way to go… I could almost hear myself shouting “Recalculating,” as I struggled to get my bearings.

As time passed, I learned to reach out for help in many ways and with various people. Over time, life has found a new path… It is calmer, mostly because I have learned to “go with it” rather than fight it. But it’s not the path I would have chosen. I guess, this is what is called my “new normal.”

However, I know this isn’t the end of the journey. While I have no idea what the road ahead will hold, I am sure there will be more unexpected turns and twists… I am also just as sure each new day will find me hovering on the cusp of a new adventure and/or a new beginning… And while there are still days when I am simply not up for it, I know ultimately, it is up to me to decide how to look it.

Each of us dealing with loss knows what a tough road this can be. Even if you are realistic enough to know one day you will be on this journey, it is never an easy one to accept. I know some days are easier than others, and I can’t let myself give up on the tough days. Still… there are days when I would give anything to make a U-turn and go back to what we used to have. 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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Moving On

I thought we had forever…
I never knew we were counting down
from the day we met.
~ Linda, September 2013

I have now spent five years on this “grief journey,” as it is called… And let me just say, “It still sucks!” And while I am better at navigating my way, there are still challenges that can be beyond frustrating.

I remember when this first started… There were people who thought I should be “over it” within a few months. There were others who made it quite clear, one year was more than enough time. I even remember someone saying, “Well, I understand for now, but if you are still grieving and alone after two years, I’m going to worry about you… That wouldn’t be good.” Or, “You really need to move on… after all, you aren’t the first person to lose a husband.” Or “When are you going to get on with your life?” But I think the most hurtful one is “I’m really tired of this, when are you going to get back to normal?” (You think you’re tired of this? I would give anything for my life to be normal again!)

People have said so many variations of this to me in my grief. While I realize these people are genuinely, well-intentioned, to be honest, their statements come across as extremely insensitive. In the beginning, these statements (and ones like them) made me extremely angry. I found myself pushing these people away and withdrawing more and more into myself.

Over time, though, I have learned not to get angry. Instead, I chalk it up to ignorance… I know they mean well. What they don’t understand is they are giving advice about something they have yet to experience. (Like when your teenager tells you what they are going to do when they are an adult.) Instead, their advice is based on what they believe they would do in my situation. The problem is they haven’t been in my situation… Of the two of us, I am the only one who has seen both sides.

Sometimes I even feel sorry for them… I can’t help but wonder if and when they do lose their spouse, will they remember their own advice? Will they feel they must follow their own advice and not allow themselves the time they will need to grieve?

If I thought they might actually listen, there is so much I would really like to say… Things I wish they could understand without going through this experience.

For example, …

1. Loss (and grief) changes you… I can never go back to who I was because I can never undo this experience… I wish these people could understand that before I even had a chance to come to grips with what happened, I was bombarded with decisions – decisions about donating organs, cremation, insurance, bank accounts, bills, and the list goes on and on. In my case, there was no one who could really help me… I was living hundreds of miles from any family. Plus, both of my parents are still alive, both of Bruce’s parents are alive, all of our siblings are still with their spouses, and none of my close friends had lost a spouse either. There was no one I could turn to for help who had been where I suddenly found myself, because I was the first.

2. Please don’t use the phrase “at least ____,” as in “At least he didn’t suffer,” or “At least you can remarry,” or “At least he is in a better place,” or “At least you had eight years together.” I realize that these words are meant to bring comfort. People are trying to point out a so-called positive, so I won’t be sad. However, when someone uses the term “at least,” I don’t feel better. Instead, I feel as if my love for Bruce, my pain and this whole experience are being minimized. Instead, just let me be sad sometimes… Validate my feelings by simply sitting beside me… You don’t need to say anything… I know you can’t fix it… Just hug me and listen. It really is that simple.

3. Please define “Move On” and “Get Over It,” because I don’t believe there is any such thing. Besides, these are really vague terms. I get the impression they mean for me to live my life the way they believe I should. (No, thank you.) Besides, I couldn’t do that even if I wanted to… (see #1). I will never “recover” in the way you recover from a sore throat, but I am learning to reorganize and refocus. It just happens to be in my own direction and at my own pace.

4. When you say these things, I hear you, but you never make it a discussion. It’s always just a comment made here and there, but I hear you… I, also, lose trust with you. Over these past five years, when people make their “helpful” comments, I find myself isolating more and more… limiting those whom I feel safe to share with and only crying when I am alone. In other words, my world has slowly gotten smaller and smaller, as my trust is slowly whittled away.

Here’s the thing… When someone we love dies, the idea of them being forgotten is terrifying. For whatever reason, it becomes our mission to tell their story – to be sure they are never forgotten. Why? Because, then they are never really gone.

So, you see, those of us in grief will never be able to do what you ask… The people we love died, but they will always be a part of us. However, whenever we take action and move our grief in a positive direction, we are making a difference in our journey… No matter how small the step. For example, this blog is my way of reaching out… a neighbor of mine started a widows’ social group (which is amazing!), a co-worker started a day of kindness project, and another friend holds an annual golf event.

So, please remember, love grows love. That is why we do what we do… because we loved. So please, instead of trying to fix me or direct me, just sit with me… be willing to move with me… That will help more than you could ever know.

For each of us dealing with loss, the comments made by those around us can be hurtful. I don’t know if it ever stops or gets any easier to ignore. I know I just wish they could realize what they are saying… Does any of this sound familiar? Have you ever felt this 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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… The Worst Day of the Year

I hate today.
With all my soul, it is a day I wish had never happened.
But it did happen.
And now I remember every moment.
Like a movie on a loop,
It plays over and over in my mind
Until each horrible detail is imprinted there.
Most days I force myself to think of other days.
Days spent at the beach or on the boat.
Moments spent dancing barefoot in the kitchen
Or snuggling in each other’s arms sharing intimate conversations.
Those are the days I love…
Those are the days I want to always remember…
Not this one…
~ Linda, January 2018

This week held the worst day of the year for me… the anniversary of Bruce’s death. In keeping with my 2018 mantra of Self-love and Self-care, I made the decision to do something different this year.

In the past, I started the day watching the sunrise at “our” beach with flowers, prayers and a toast to the life of a great man… the man I love! I have lunch and dinner at his favorite spots. In the afternoon, I hung new prayer flags on the back porch… a tradition I still love. (Each flag is painted by hand and represents something about Bruce. Throughout the year as the wind blows, the good will in each flag is spread throughout the world until each flag either disintegrates from the elements or is carried off on the wind.) Then each year, I ended the day with a Jimmy Buffet dance party… and in my mind Bruce was always there, too.

I still love these ways of honoring Bruce… They are meaningful and beautiful! However, as this year’s anniversary approached, I realized last year’s flags are still in good shape, so I didn’t want to replace them. Plus, my mantra for the year is about Self-love and Self-care. So, I decided to do something different… something to honor not only Bruce, but our relationship and our shared passion…

Bruce and I loved to travel… It was how we met, traveling in the Virgin Islands over the Christmas holidays in 2004. However, since he died, the only traveling I have done has either been for work or with/to family. While I never lost that urge to see the world, somewhere along the line, I convinced myself I couldn’t do it alone. This year, though, I decided to pick those dreams back up and go… And I can’t think of a better way to honor Bruce… and us.

Since his ashes were spread in the ocean five years ago, I figure I can find him on any beach anywhere in the world. Admittedly, I haven’t gone far this year (just a few hours south). But this is a new place I’ve never seen before this weekend… So, it is still a new adventure (for us)!

As I drove into town, the expected rain for the day was actually beautiful sunshine. I made a quick stop for flowers and beer before heading to the waterfront tiki-bar/restaurant for lunch. (Thankfully, eating out alone is something I forced myself to do almost immediately after Bruce passed. So, now it doesn’t feel awkward at all.) The water was beautiful, and the meal was great! I toasted Bruce with a Mojito (one of his favorites). Then as I sat there, I wrote him a letter to go with the flowers and beer.

Hi Babe!

I can’t believe it has been 5 years! Good grief! I will always remember that night like it was yesterday… I miss you so much. I keep trying to move forward, but it is hard. I still want to share every little thing with you – every accomplishment, every “awe” moment, every smile and every tear… but that isn’t meant to be. I don’t think I’ll ever understand why.

This year I decided to change gears, be brave and do something new… In some way to honor not just you, but us! We always loved to travel. It is how we met and what we loved to do – new adventures!

Up until now, all my travels (since you died) have been for others (work or family). But I decided to start traveling for us. I still want to see the world… and I know you are by my side. : ) I can’t hide from the world forever, and knowing you are with me makes me braver. Thanks!

I have been so sad this week as today got closer… I hate January 12… It’s a truly sh**ty (sorry) day… I do still wish you were here… to see your smile and hold your hand one more time would be the best gift ever! I know one day we will be together again… Our hearts are too connected for anything else. Until then, I will miss you…

Thank you for loving me when were here, and thank you for still loving me now. I pray you know I will always love you! You will always have my heart! Always and forever!
Me
xxxooo

After lunch, I headed straight to the beach, where I “gave” Bruce the beer, flowers and letter. Then, I just sat there talking to him, writing… and crying. It was my time to let go and grieve out loud for a bit. (Life just seems too busy these days for much of that.) More than an hour passed before that promised rain finally came, sending me to the shelter of the hotel. But that wasn’t all… I ended the day the way I always have… A little wine, a little Buffet, a little dance party, a few smiles… and a few tears.

Overall, it was a beautiful day. I don’t regret my choice to do something different, at all. In fact, it felt so right, I know I will be doing this more often. After all, grief shouldn’t just be about the tears…

For me, it must also include continuing to do those things Bruce and I loved doing together… Then, I can remember the smiles…

            

“Love yourself and love your life; it’s the only one you have.” ~ Joyce Meyer, Good Health, Good Life

For each of us dealing with loss, the anniversary of that loss is something we must deal with year after year. While nothing will ever make the loss of Bruce easier to handle, this year’s anniversary was cathartic and peace-filled… And I guess I can’t ask for more than that. My hope in sharing my day is to share an alternative to the normal grieving process we so easily find ourselves in. I know I am not the only one… We are all dealing with some extremely intense, emotional stuff, and none of us needs to handle this alone. Learning to navigate this journey is different for each of us. It brings its individual challenges and lessons. Through it we come to realize we are stronger than we thought we were. If any of this feels familiar, 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. *

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… A New Year… A Fresh Start

I know most people start the New Year with resolutions… habits to change and ways to improve. While great in theory, the reality is 80% of resolutions have been abandoned by the end of January and throughout the year another 12% will go by the wayside, as well. The reasons people abandon their resolutions are varied, but generally it boils down to the reason behind the proposed change. If you aren’t passionate about the change – if you are only doing something because you think “you should” – then you are less likely to stick with it… which makes sense.

Many years ago, I gave up on resolutions. I always seemed to be in that 80% that gave up after a few weeks. A couple of years after Bruce died, though, I decided to try something different… Something that still recognized the new year and the fresh start it promises, yet at the same time spoke to my passions rather than my shortcomings. At the suggestion of a friend, rather than a resolution, I decided to have a theme (or mantra) for the year… A statement to reflect the attitude I wanted to carry out.

The first year was a year of “Celebration, Creation and Contribution.” This was the year I started letting myself celebrate holidays (guilt free) and writing this blog. I didn’t make a commitment to do anything – not really. It was simply a commitment of the attitude I wanted to show in each action I undertook. I made a few notes for myself as reminders and placed them where I would see them at least once each day. If I somehow got off course, it wasn’t a big deal. I simply got back on course – no guilt… no feelings of failure.

Each year has held a different theme… Each year, the theme chosen has been directed by where I find myself on my journey. For example, last year my theme was the year of “‘Thy will’ through letting go and forgiveness.” It was such a necessary step for me. Up to that point, I had found myself holding onto so much hurt… Hurt I allowed, even though it was simply a product of people who honestly didn’t know any better.

If you are reading this, I’m sure you know what I mean… The hurt created by things people say or don’t do in response to our grief. I am referring to those things most people in our culture believe are comforting or motivating, but in reality, are just the opposite. But 2017 was the year I learned to accept and understand they really don’t know any better… It was the year to let it go. Admittedly, I wasn’t perfect at this… But I was definitely better… And that was the goal.

So what about this year? Well, I have decided I need a year of self-love and care. (I know – it sounds totally selfish, but it really isn’t.) Here’s what I mean…

First, I am referring to my physical self. Despite carrying health insurance, I haven’t been to a doctor since Bruce died. I had convinced myself that if the doctors didn’t catch Bruce’s heart issues (and he went annually), then why bother? As long as I was working out and eating healthy, other than an actual injury, what more would they do anyway? However, the real truth was I just didn’t care anymore. What did it matter if my health was good or bad? If something DID happen, I was okay with that… After all, that just meant I would be with Bruce… and I was definitely okay with that. (I know, that sounds horribly morbid, but it is the truth, and I have always promised to be truthful here… and the truth is I didn’t care.)

Secondly, I am also referring to my own attitude about myself. I have written before about my previous marriage and the emotional baggage left from that… about Bruce’s unconditional love and fabulous encouragement in whatever I chose to pursue. No matter what, Bruce only saw the good, and that meant everything to me. However, when he died, I felt I had been plunged back in time… My confidence was shaken, my self-esteem was at a new low and my self-worth was almost non-existent.

I know it sounds crazy, but without Bruce’s confidence in me, I was losing my confidence in myself. This isn’t good. Did you know the way we love ourselves is passed on to our children? Yes, my children are adults, but I am still an example. Plus, I now have a grandson in my home, who repeats my words back to me with eye-opening clarity.

Recently, I learned that women (on average) criticize themselves eight or more times a day. I know I am guilty of that, but it needs to change. I need to be kind to myself… If I wouldn’t say it to someone else, then why on earth would I say it to myself?

So, yes, this is my year of self-love and self-care. It is quite a change for me. Daily, I have been reminding myself of my theme and the why’s behind it. So far, I believe I am off to a good start. I have been drinking more water (and less wine), made a doctor’s appointment (ugh), and start each day with a prayer for help and a positive affirmation…

Nothing huge… Nothing grand… Just small actions to remind myself that I do have value and I am worthy. Sometimes it’s hard to remember, but just because we are now on our own, doesn’t mean we no longer matter. I do and you do… Besides, if we aren’t kind to ourselves, why should anyone else treat us any different? We are the ones to set that standard.

If any of this feels familiar, please take eleven minutes and listen to the link below.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bZkSNblaRA4&feature=youtu.be

Happy New Year to our virtual group. Please know my thoughts and prayers are for all of us as we begin another year without our loved ones by our side. Our support for each other always touches my heart, and I feel close to you through the experiences we share. We are all dealing with some extremely intense, emotional stuff, and none of us needs to handle this alone. Learning to navigate this journey is different for each of us. It brings its individual challenges and lessons. Through it we come to realize we are stronger than we thought we were.

If any of this feels familiar, 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. *

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

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

Thank you.

Peace, Love and Grief… Grief Attacks

As I wrote last week, the holidays create so many mixed emotions. There are so many things about this time of year which I wish I could help those around me understand. Yet, I believe for them to understand, they would have to experience a loss like mine… (And that is something I would never wish on anyone.)

I know I am incredibly blessed to have so many loving family and friends. At the same time, there will always be a piece of my heart that is missing – an emptiness created when Bruce died. At this point, I believe I do a pretty good job putting a smile on my face and moving forward…

Except when I can’t…

Do you know what I’m talking about? I’m talking about those moments when the sadness and grief are completely overwhelming… The tears insist on coming no matter how hard I try to keep them in… These are the moments I now call Grief Attacks. *

Grief Attacks can be triggered by all kinds of things. Sometimes they are triggered by obvious things such sweet memories or songs which arouse those feelings of longing and loss. Other times, it may be the glimpse of someone who looks similar (and causes a double take)… or has similar mannerisms… or a truck like his… or the smell of his cologne.

One of the biggest triggers for me, however, seems to be when I am feeling completely overwhelmed… when life throws me a curve ball which I now have to now handle alone. When Bruce was here, I never had to handle these moments alone. Even if it was only the sanctuary of his arms, I always knew he was there for me. No matter how hurt I felt, I never felt alone… I always knew he was there. So, when those moments hit, all I want is the comfort of Bruce’s arms… The very thing I cannot have.

Now, let’s be honest… Sometimes during the holidays – during this season of joy and family – life gets overwhelming. It’s no one’s fault. There is just a lot going on, and our emotions are charged. This has always been… It is not anything new because Bruce is gone. The difference is not having him to lean on.

Yes, I know, we are supposed to be strong on our own… I get that and for the most part, I am. But, we all need someone else every now and then. For me, Bruce was that person, and I was his. Now, though, I am on this road alone. And when things feel overwhelming, I feel like a child… Bruce is who I want… Bruce is who I need… But Bruce is the one person who cannot help me, and so the grief attacks come…

This is awkward enough during the normal parts of the year. Family and friends try to understand and give me the space I need, even if they don’t quite understand where this sudden burst of grief came from. During the holidays, though, I think it is harder for others to understand. After all, it is a time of celebration… a time of love and family.

This weekend while celebrating a family wedding, one of those moments hit me (again). I was fine during the wedding. You would think that would have been a trigger. However, I smiled with joy watching these two young people declare their love for each other. The reception was also a blast. I laughed and danced with friends, my daughters and my grandson.

The grief attack came when the lights dimmed further, the music slowed, and the older couples braved the dance floor. As I stood there watching so many couples dancing as they gazed into each others’ eyes and whispered things which brought smiles and light kisses, the tears started flowing of their own accord. In that moment, my longing for Bruce and the love we shared left me feeling completely overwhelmed. Luckily, it didn’t last any longer than the song… As the couples left the floor, I was able to reign it back in before anyone else seemed to notice… Thank goodness!

From what I understand, these attacks have nothing to do with time… They are likely to continue indefinitely… And now that I know they are “normal,” I’m not as concerned about trying to explain myself to anyone else.

Besides, I am still at a total loss on how to explain these to anyone else. How do I help them understand that this is just a part of the whole journey? Yes, I may have been “fine” a few moments ago. Yes, I love the people around me. Yes, I know it has been a long time and in a lot of people’s minds I should be over it. But in these moments, I need the one person who will never be by my side again… I need Bruce, and no one else can fill that void.

* Grief Attacks is a term I learned while listening to Dr. Bill Webster’s series on Understanding Grief.

Happy New Year to our virtual group. Please know my thoughts and prayers are for all of us as we begin another year without our loved ones by our side. Our support for each other always touches my heart, and I feel close to you through the experiences we share. We are all dealing with some extremely intense, emotional stuff, and none of us needs to handle this alone. Learning to navigate this journey is different for each of us. It brings its individual challenges and lessons. Through it we come to realize we are stronger than we thought we were. If any of this feels familiar, 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. *

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

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