grief – Page 35 – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love and Grief… After the Storm

When I wrote last week’s blog, we were hours away from my first hurricane experience – not something I was looking forward to at all. God has blessed us, though, and here we are on the other side of that storm… Cleaning up and putting our lives back together… A lot like grief…

It’s funny, but as that storm was closing in, I found I wasn’t really scared. I thought I would be, but I wasn’t. Instead, it was one of those situations where I knew we had done all we could to prepare… It was just a matter of listening to the news so we could take refuge in our “safe space” when needed. The rest was out of our hands – It was up to God… I just needed to find that space where I trusted him to take care of us.

Even that night, it reminded me of the night Bruce died. Even back then, I didn’t break down or fall apart. I cried, yes, but my mind pushed back the reality of the situation and instead focused on what needed to be done. So, I came home and started making phone calls and preparing for the family which would soon arrive. Just like this past Sunday, I seemed to just go into “auto-pilot,” doing those things I knew I needed to do. However, on the inside, I simply felt numb, trying not to think about what was happening around me – not allowing myself to dwell on those things I couldn’t control… If I am honest, I can’t say I was in a “trust God” space back then… It was more like a “don’t-panic-this-is-only-a-dream” space.

Hurricane Irma was huge and took hours to pass. Of course, as luck would have it, we found ourselves on the northeast side of the storm – the side which usually incurs the most damage… the part of the hurricane which also has no calm eye in the middle… no small space in which to catch our breath. Instead, the night was filled with wind, rain, tornadoes and darkness… lots and lots of darkness.

Similarly, losing Bruce felt just like a hurricane in my life… This was something I never dreamed I would have to endure. Also, there was no calming eye in the middle of that storm, either… And, there seemed to be no safe place for me to catch my breath… just a lot of chaos, not knowing what would happen next and darkness… lots and lots of darkness…

Waking up on this last Monday morning felt surreal, as we slowly ventured out of our home to see what kind of damage Irma had left in her wake. Within a few hours (and with a little help), I was removing downed trees and debris and salvaging others. It has taken all week, but I have removed and stored the storm shutters, put all the potted plants and outdoor furniture back in place, and put away all the Hurricane kit items. In an effort to return to “normal,” most of us (myself included) even returned to work on Tuesday, despite no power, minimal water, road closures, no gas, empty grocery stores and no school for the kids. In other words, it has been a week of acting like everything is fine, even when it wasn’t.

We were lucky, our damage was minimal… Everything we lost can easily be replaced… This is where the two storms differ.

During those first few months after Bruce died, I slowly understood this was my new “normal.” It felt surreal at first, but it didn’t take too long for me to start to understand and experience the “damage” left in the wake of his death. Unlike Irma, the damage left in the wake of Bruce’s death was not minimal and can not be easily fixed… I am still working on that…

I have spent years “trying to return to normal” … only I don’t seem to know what “normal” is any more… There are so many days when I feel like I am “acting like everything is fine, even when it isn’t.”

So, what now?

Hurricane Irma is gone… We have picked up, cleaned up and moved on with life. But losing Bruce? That is a different type of storm… It is one which has left some damage which will never be repaired. As for the rest, I know it is a process… A process where each day holds its own challenges (and accomplishments)… I know I can’t rush it or fix it or make it all go away. Instead, I must wake up each day, look at the challenges ahead, and move forward – fixing what I can and being patient when I can’t…

This is my hurricane… And, I guess, this is my life after “the storm.”

Everyone deals with grief’s emotions in their own way… These are only my thoughts and observations as this hurricane reminds me of life’s many lessons on this journey. Maybe grief has been that way for you, as well. Learning to navigate this storm tends to show us we are stronger than we thought we were able. 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

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Peace, Love and Grief… Facing the Storm

The Storm

The storm rolls in;
At first, I do not notice.
I can still see the sun;
The part of the sky I am focused on
is beautiful… blue…
I smile.

Then, I see them;
The clouds rolling in,
Getting darker and darker
As they crowd out the sun
and cover my beautiful sky.
I can barely see the light from the sun
As it struggles to find its way around the clouds.

The blue sky is gone;
The sun is gone;
Heavy drops begin to fall from the sky…
Down my cheeks.
I try but I cannot stop them…
Not for now.
But I know one day soon,
The blue sky will greet me again.
And the warmth of the sun will bring back my smile.

~ Linda, October, 2013

As I write this today, we are just beginning to see the first effects of Hurricane Irma, as she works her way up the Florida coast. When we first moved here, Bruce used to say he wanted to experience a hurricane… I always responded that I did not. I had grown up on the Carolina coast. I knew I didn’t want to face that kind of storm. I also knew he was from the mid-west and had no idea what he was wishing for.

Earlier in the week, we started with plans to evacuate before the storm. Then, through different circumstances, such as our office not closing until the last minute, knowing that we would only be running “ahead of” and not “away from” Irma, and a western shift in her path, we made the decision to stay put.

So, here I am riding out this storm… Bruce’s wish – not mine. O_o

As we listen to the news to monitor the storm, and consequently, find ourselves moving in and out of our “safe space,” I am reminded of how right I was when I compared the emotions of grief with a storm. If you have ever felt deep grief, then you are completely aware of the multitude of emotions that can hit you in a short span of time. There have been days when I have felt as if I must be crazy as my emotions go from happy to sad to angry and then, to round it all out, (if I am blessed) to a still, calm peace.

In the beginning there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to what I felt. Like this hurricane, I knew those emotions were always out there somewhere… waiting. Now, though, I have learned that this is normal… I have also found that usually I have a sense of that emotional storm when it is on the horizon. Yet, like this hurricane, I can’t always get away… Nor can I avoid it. Sometimes, I can manage to stay a day or two ahead of it. Yet, other times, I know I need to just hunker down and wait it out.

Through the years, I have come to expect it… roll with it, if you will. Yet, I have also learned it will subside, as well… Sometimes as quickly as it came on, while other times it may take a few days to leave… and the destruction left to my heart, depends on how prepared I was beforehand.

So how do you prepare yourself to cope when the grief seems to be the only thing you can see? For everyone, it is different. In fact, for me, it can be different every time. Usually, though, it goes something like this…

First, I let myself feel what I feel. The storm is here… I need to accept that, so I remind myself that it is okay to cry when I need to… no guilt.

Next, I remind myself I don’t need to apologize for feeling what I feel – whatever it is. My feelings are mine, and they are valid.

Finally, I remind myself that while this storm feels overwhelming and scary, there is still something positive for me… whether it is remembering Bruce’s legacy, our love or the preciousness of life in this very moment…

Everyone deals with grief’s storm of emotions in their own way… These are only my thoughts and observations as this hurricane reminds me of life’s many lessons on this journey. Maybe grief has been that way for you, as well. Learning to navigate this storm tends to show us we are stronger than we thought we were able. 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

Peace, Love and Grief… Fear

What scares you? I guess what I’m really asking is – what is your greatest fear?

When I was a little girl, I was terrified of bears. (Okay, I still am to be honest.) I grew up with woods on two sides of our yard, and a path through those woods which led to my grandparents’ home. The fairy tales we read as children came alive in my mind each time we entered those woods… sometimes that was fun and other times it was terrifying. By the time I was four, the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears brought on nightmares for days! I just knew one day I would be eaten by a bear in those woods, and no one could convince me otherwise.

As I got older, different fears came and went… There were the “fun” fears brought on by horror movies and haunted houses, as well as the fears which accompanied insecurities, such as adolescence or being a first-time mother. I remember as a teenager, hearing an acronym for fear – false evidence appearing real. At the time, it seemed like a nice idea – a good way to talk yourself out of being afraid…

But, what if your fear turns out to be real?

I remember when Bruce and I were married, my biggest fear was the idea that we wouldn’t have a “forever” together. I didn’t whine about it… I simply believed it. I didn’t believe I would be “allowed” to be that happy for very long. What I knew was throughout my adult life, I had found if I felt happy, it never lasted for long. I couldn’t explain it… It just was.

For example, I had known the thrill of being pregnant for the first time, only to lose that child in childbirth. I had known beautiful, deep friendships, which ended abruptly because we never stayed in one place for very long. I knew the relief of leaving a violent relationship, only to be stalked and threatened for years. I knew the security of “enough money” only to have it all embezzled by a “friend.”

I’m not ridiculous… I know a lot of this is just life… I realize I made choices which impacted each of these situations. However, I couldn’t shake the feeling that that God himself didn’t feel I deserved happiness… Which brought on my biggest fear… My fear of losing Bruce.

I knew without a doubt, I was too happy… I had never known happiness like I knew with Bruce. I couldn’t imagine a life without him. As time passed, I just knew something was going to happen…

I would tell Bruce I was scared. I told him I knew God would never allow me to be this happy for very long. In response, he would just chuckle or shake his head, pull me close and kiss me or simply hold me tight… But, even he could not take away my fear.

I remember one evening about a month before he passed away, I asked Bruce a question I had asked many times. I asked if he thought we would ever really sail the Caribbean like we always dreamed of doing. When I had asked before, he had always laughed and said, “Of course! Nothing’s changed. That’s still the plan.” But on this particular night, he responded, “I don’t know if I’ll live that long.” Immediately, I told him that wasn’t funny… Losing him was my biggest fear, and I couldn’t stand to even joke about it… Then, he winked at me and laughed.

A month later, my biggest fear became my reality… Bruce lay beside me dying and despite doing everything I knew to do… I lost him… Just like that, he was gone, and I hadn’t been able to stop it. My worst nightmare had come true… We would never have a “forever.”

I was very angry for a long time… Angry at God… Angry at myself… Just angry… And I didn’t know what to do with it. This wasn’t “false evidence appearing real” … This was real…

While I still have my days, the anger hasn’t lasted… In fact, as time has passed, I am reminded daily that at least for a little while, we were happy…

Bruce meant more to me than I could ever explain… He taught me how to love and how to live… He made me laugh and held me when I cried… He was my whole world, and at the same time, respected who I am as an individual.

Because of all of this, I know I don’t need to fear anything… For as long as I remember who we were, he will always be a part of who I am…

Everyone fears something. Sometimes we don’t even know what it is until we experience it. Maybe grief has been that way for others, as well. Learning to navigate through the fear of grief is different for everyone… But remembering and honoring those we lost can sometimes help us overcome that fear… Learning we are stronger than we thought takes time. Yet, time is the very thing we need to navigate this journey. 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

Peace, Love and Grief… Actions Speak Louder Than Words

I remember years ago talking to my (then) brother-in-law about my separation from his brother (my first husband). I felt torn. We had been married over 20+ years… 20+ violent, chaotic years. My estranged husband at the time was calling many times a day to say he would change… If I would give him just one more chance, he would change. I wanted to believe him… After all, who willingly wants to tear a family apart? Twenty plus years is a lot of history. But, those twenty plus years had been a nightmare, and I had heard those words before.

The day we left, my kids and I ran away with only the clothes on our backs… Our situation was so bad, I was willing to give up everything for the hope of protecting my kids and finding some semblance of peace. Like many women in the same situation, I struggled to separate the words I was hearing from the reality I knew. Then his brother gave me the simplest, yet wisest, advice, “Look at his actions… Actions speak louder than words.” He was right… I went forward with the divorce and never questioned my decision again. Well over a decade later, his behavior remains the same – still threatening… still aggressive.

Now move forward several years to my relationship with Bruce… Bruce was a man of very few words, but his actions said it all… His words simply backed up those actions. In one of our first conversations I told him I was having trouble reading him… I didn’t understand what kind of game he was playing. He simply looked me in the eye and said, “I don’t play games.” And he didn’t! It was so refreshing to be with someone who said what he meant and his actions matched his words.

He made it so easy to fall in love with him because I never had to guess… Our relationship wasn’t built on games. I could trust him implicitly, and that made all the difference in the world. When I have written about the healing Bruce brought to my family, I believe this was the foundation of that healing – His words and his actions matched, and that is how trust is built and relationships thrive.

This week was a rough week for exactly this… In situations both professional and personal, there were things said that didn’t match the actions taken. Like so many years before Bruce, I was convinced I was the problem… I was convinced that in some way I wasn’t enough – I wasn’t good enough, smart enough, understanding enough… the list goes on and on. All week, I longed for the safe feeling of Bruce’s arms holding me tight, but that can’t be… not anymore. Instead, as the week progressed, I found myself pulling more and more inward, and pushing the world further and further away.

On Friday, one of my co-workers made the comment, “Like everything else in life, you just have to spin it so the other person will accept it.” Wait, what? Why would you “spin” anything? What happened to being honest? This is my frustration… This is my point – You can “spin it” and say whatever you choose, but in the end…

… your actions will tell your truth.

Since Bruce passed away, the loss of that honest relationship has been devastating. I miss the way he lived his truth day in and day out. At the same time, I have come to realize just how few people really mean what they say. Sadly, over the last four years, I have heard so many people say one thing and do another. They have reached out in what initially appeared to be friendship and compassion, only to become something completely different quite quickly.

Sadly, I don’t believe this is unusual, since many people believe widows to be vulnerable and weak… “easy prey,” if you will. However, once the dust clears and you realize what has happened, it is completely disheartening.

After four years, I must admit, all of this has taken a toll on my trust in others. I now know Bruce was right when he said trust is earned – be careful who you give yours to. At the same time, I am very blessed to have family and close friends whom I trust implicitly.

However, I have learned through the years if I can’t trust what someone says, I’m not real interested in anything more. I believe that is called discernment, and it is a good thing. At the same time however, I must own my part, as well…

I can’t control what others say or do. However, I can control what I say and do… Even when it is hard or uncomfortable. I pray that what I offer to others is honest… That my actions and words not only line up, but that my actions speak loud enough so there is little need for words…

And that those actions are based in honesty, peace and love.

Learning to navigate through this journey really is different for everyone… For many of us, the way others treat us after our loss can be confusing and overwhelming. At a time when life is hard, this has the potential to make it harder… Learning that we still have some control makes it a little bit easier to navigate these situations and appreciate the love and peace we are offered. 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

Please note: Next week’s blog will be a day late as I enjoy the long weekend with family.

Peace, Love and Grief… Some Relationships Change; Some Don’t…

Yesterday on Facebook, I read a question on La Vita è Bella… What is the percentage of friends and family members who are lost after the death of a spouse? The answers ranged from 25% – 90%… Reading the stories shared along with the numbers saddened me…

When Bruce passed away, I did a lot of reading about death and grief… I wanted to know what to expect. I wanted to know how to survive this path my life had taken. But mostly, I wanted someone to tell me how to make it stop hurting! I’m afraid, though, I really only found answers to the first question – what to expect.

I found a lot of information… What I learned was everything I read was not accurate for everyone. Each person writes from their own experience… And while some experiences are shared… others are not. I found myself reading everything… Not knowing what lay ahead, I wanted to be prepared.

Almost every book, article, website, etc. stated that relationships would change – some for the better and some not. Looking back, I don’t know why this was such a surprise… Even in my divorce years ago, I had found this to be true. Each of these authors also gave a warning – to expect your in-laws to fade out of your life…

This left me in a panic… I love my in-laws!

Bruce’s sisters were like my own sisters… We were constantly in contact with each other; we travel together; we share secrets… and we loved each other. And his parents… Oh my gosh! His parents have made me feel loved from the moment we met… I have called them “Mom” and “Dad” for as long as I can remember. We talked constantly and visited each other all the time… I loved them, too.

I had already lost Bruce… The idea of losing Bruce’s family too was more than I could handle. I remember when they were leaving after Bruce’s memorial… I shared what I had read and begged them not to lose touch… not to walk out of my life…

They chuckled at me (the same way Bruce did when he thought I was worried about nothing), hugged me and assured me they would never leave me behind… And they haven’t.

I have been blessed! Through the years, our relationships have not only remained intact – They have gotten stronger…

In fact, last weekend I went to Bruce’s parent’s home to attend their family reunion. In the days preceding the visit, I started getting nervous… Bruce and I always went to the reunions while he was alive, but this was my first time going alone… The more I thought about it, the more nervous I became.

What if I had misinterpreted the invitation? What if they had only invited me to be kind? Did they really want me there? Once I was there, what if they felt I was just a reminder that Bruce is gone? Surely, they must wonder why he is gone, and I am here… I know, I do.

But none of that played out. Instead, I found myself surrounded by people who love and miss Bruce as much as I do. It was so cathartic to be able to talk about him freely, cry when needed, and never once feel judged or like I was a nuisance. It was such a refreshing weekend, both emotionally and physically!

I miss Bruce… I miss him every day… That being said, I am so thankful I don’t have to miss his family, too… And for me, having these wonderful people in my life keeps a piece of Bruce in my life, as well. I am so thankful the experience I read about so long ago has not been my experience… And yes, I know I am blessed.

Learning to navigate through this journey really is different for everyone… For many of us, the changes in our relationships after our loss can be confusing and overwhelming. At a time when life is hard, these changes have the potential to make it harder. Learning to navigate these changes and appreciate the love we are offered is as individual as each relationship, and we move through it at our own pace and in our own way. 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

Peace, Love and Grief… What Does It Mean to Heal?

Grief… It may be a small word, but it is not a simple word… In fact, for such a small word, there are a lot of emotions and thoughts wrapped up into it… For example, there are different types of grief, depending on the relationship… And there are different stages of grief, which is a farce I’ve discussed before. Then, there is a grief journey, which is really just your life’s journey that took a sharp turn down a long, dark road. And the list could go on and on…

Today, though, I was thinking about an idea you hear a lot about… The idea of healing from grief. To start, let’s define “heal.” In the dictionary, it is defined as follows: “to become sound, healthy or whole again.” Hmmm… interesting idea, but it doesn’t seem to fit with grief… not really…

When Bruce passed away, many of those who had never been on this path, (We’ll call them “the others.”), kept telling me it would “get better with time,” and eventually, I would “feel whole again.” On the other hand, other widows and those who had also experienced deep loss, told me up front, “This will always hurt. You just learn to live with it.”

As time has moved on, “the others” continue to ask or advise me about moving on. But those who are on this journey too, continue to say, “This will always hurt. You just learn to live with it.” … And now, after four-plus years, I know who I believe.

But, I also think there is a little more to it…

Whether the loss which precedes grief is sudden or whether it comes after an extended period of time, it leaves you in a state of shock… The initial reality is hard to accept or comprehend in those first few days or weeks. Once you realize this is real, that is when the grief sets in… (After all, you can’t grief what you can’t comprehend.)

The thing about loss and grief… They leave you in a place where nothing makes sense… a place where nothing is the way it was… a place of complete and utter weakness. So, here you are, trying to figure everything out, make decisions, take care of the “legalities of death,” all while you are emotionally (and maybe even physically) weak… possibly the weakest you have ever been… And as you keep pushing forward, you learn to live in that place of weakness… And that is grief…

As time moves on, some of the numbness and shock begins to wear off, but the feeling of having the breath knocked out of you remains… And then, things get even stranger…

There are days (and maybe even weeks) where you feel okay… where you start to learn to function outside of that weak space… And you think, “I’m doing better. I’m going to be okay.” Then suddenly, you find yourself struggling to breathe again, and you are right back in that space of weakness… That same space where you started.

The grief journey (at least for me) seems to be a path where I will always hurt… There are good days where I feel strong, and there are bad days when I feel so incredibly weak again… So the healing is not really about moving on, letting go or even the hurt going away…

No, I think, maybe… just maybe, the healing happens as we allow ourselves those weak moments when they happen (and they will happen) – being gentle rather than hard on ourselves when they happen… But also not staying in that space for any longer than we need to…

In other words, any healing is actually about accepting our weakness while learning to live in our strength.

And no matter where we find ourselves on any given day, always remember – come from a place of love and be gentle with yourself… because that is where our strength is found.

Learning to navigate through this journey is different for everyone… For many of us, the changes in us created by our grief can be confusing and overwhelming to ourselves and others. Learning to be open to new possibilities can feel impossible at times and at other times, this is what gives us hope. We all move through it at our own pace and in our own way… and we each have our own experiences that help us make it through. If this feels familiar, we are here… you are not alone. If you are someone who needs a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. *

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Where It All Started

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

When I started this blog years ago, I had a dual purpose. One was to create a virtual community of support for anyone suffering loss. The other was to help those around us understand how best to offer support. Those first few weeks (and months) there were only a few of us here… Now, there are many of us here… Members of a club we would rather not belong to.

Many of you have shared your stories with me privately and a few publicly… It has been over two years since I shared my own story… My own start on this journey which has changed my life… This is where it all started…

Today’s story is about Bruce’s death and cremation, and the questions that followed it – mine and others. I don’t belittle the hurt others felt or the idea that someone else may have made different choices. (Of course, they would.) But this is my story…

My hope is that by being honest, we can move away from the idea that grief is something we need to “do right” and replace it with the realization that it is a process. A process that requires the griever to live and bargain with each moment as it comes… none of it is easy or rational. It is a moment by moment journey and we do the best we can in each moment…

It was Friday night, January 11, 2013. I worked late but still managed to beat Bruce home. I arrived at 6:30 PM with Chinese food to share for dinner. (It took several years before I could eat Chinese food, again. Even now, it is not on my list of go-to dinner choices.) Bruce got home around 8… He had worked another long, 15-hour day and was exhausted.

I remember being so excited to see him… I ran to the door to greet him and take his cooler. He said he was too tired to eat much so he just had a little soup. I sat with him while he ate, and we talked about our plans for the weekend – kayaking or the beach? We laughed because we both knew it didn’t really matter – just being together and near the water would be wonderful.

When we went to bed, I was fretting about something… I was the worrier, and Bruce was always so chill. We used to joke that he was Pooh Bear (with a beer not a honey pot), and I was Piglet (the tiny worrier). I remember hearing him chuckle as he kissed my forehead, pulled me close and we snuggled into bed.

A few short hours later, I woke up. I was still in his arms, but he sounded like he was having a nightmare. I tried to wake him. I called his name and shook him over and over. Suddenly, he seized up, and collapsed. I was terrified. I called 911 and started CPR. Although the 911 operator was talking to me the whole time, my mind seemed frozen… It all felt like a dream… This couldn’t be really happening… It couldn’t!

Within moments, EMS was here and took over. They tried everything – a breathing bag, an Epi-pen and the “paddles”… but the line on the monitor stayed flat. I watched silently from the bedroom door, but inside my head I was screaming for him to come back… but I knew. No one said a word… but we all knew. The responders kept doing CPR, but there were no more “tricks” in their bag, and there was no longer any sense of urgency. Instead, they waited (actually waited) until a police officer came to drive me to the hospital. Then, with no sirens and no one beside me, we made our way to the ER. It was so surreal…

It was my worst nightmare, and I couldn’t wake up…

Once at the hospital, they put me in a “consultation room” where I sat… alone. The next few minutes were the longest of my life, as I sat there… waiting… Finally, the door opened and a doctor came in to tell me what I already knew. I remember just sitting there… I’m pretty sure I was crying (because I remember having a tissue in my hand), but there was not anyone to hold me and tell me it would be okay… not anymore…

My hero was gone…

I was led to a room where Bruce lay on a gurney… so still… Too still. All the machines and equipment had been turned off, but the remnants of their efforts were still all around us. I was allowed to stay with him until the Medical Examiner came. I remember stroking his face, his hair and his whiskers. I remember kissing his cheek and begging him to open his eyes. I remember thinking this whole thing was impossible! This could not be real… Surely, he was going to open his eyes at any moment and say, “Gotcha!”

But he didn’t… This was all too real…

I remember telling him how much I love him… and I remember crying. There was no one… I was completely alone, and I knew deep inside that was how it would be from now on. When the Medical Examiner’s office came and took him away, the police officer drove me back home.

I was so numb and confused. It just didn’t seem real… How could this be? How could This wonderful man be gone? This man who loved me with no conditions… just complete and total love. How could a loving God take that away? How could Bruce really be gone? It seemed so wrong… so impossible.

I remember I started calling people. It was 3 AM, but I didn’t know what else to do. I remember calling his parents, my parents, our siblings and our children. I even remember calling his boss and a couple of close friends. Then, I spent the next few hours cleaning the house and preparing for everyone to arrive.

The next few days are a blur. I can remember some things but not a lot. I was in such complete shock. The main thing I remember was how I had to concentrate just to breathe… Life just seemed to stop for me, and I wanted to the world to stop too… I wanted to get off… This was too much!

Within a couple of weeks, everyone had gone back home. As for me, I hadn’t come to terms with any of it yet. It felt like I wasn’t even breathing again… but they had lives and homes and families to get back to… they couldn’t stay forever… I would have to figure this out on my own.

I remember thinking I had to be strong and brave so Bruce would be proud. I wanted to do this widow thing “right.” I had to do what I remembered he had wanted. During those last few months, there had been a few conversations about death and what we wanted. There wasn’t a lot he was picky about, but I remember he always said that he did not want a viewing or a big funeral. (He hated being the center of attention.) He wanted to be cremated and to have his ashes scattered in the ocean. He was quite adamant that he did not want to end up on a shelf somewhere. So that was my plan. I had no idea what I was doing and there was no one to guide me… but I was going to give it my all.

Two weeks later the funeral home called, and I went to pick up his ashes. I’m not sure what I expected, but here is what happened… First, they tried to give me the wrong ashes. Then, they put them in a plastic bag – like the kind you get at the grocery store. I was so appalled. Were they kidding me?! This was a man… He was my husband… He was my soul. I remember crying all the way home. Once here, I lit a candle in front of the container and simply sat vigil for the next 24 hours. How could such a wonderful man be inside such a small container? It was too much to comprehend.

The next day, I started making plans… I couldn’t sit here forever. I wanted to follow his wishes, but I also wanted to honor him. The memorial was held a few months later – on his birthday at sunrise. As much as I wanted to, I did not keep any ashes, nor did I give any away. I wasn’t trying to be cruel or unkind to anyone. I was merely trying to do what Bruce had wanted. He was my world; my allegiance was to him, and I needed to do this right. Thankfully, his family was understanding and supported me completely in following Bruce’s wishes.

On the day of the memorial, it was supposed to rain… but it didn’t. It was beautiful. At sunrise, my son took Bruce’s ashes out in the kayak past the breakers and scattered them. The memorial and brunch were perfectly “Bruce,” and I know he was smiling. Saying goodbye was one of the hardest things I have ever done. It hurt so bad… In fact, it still hurts…

However, I am so proud of this man and what he added to this world and my life… The legacy he left behind is one of unconditional love and acceptance. He was truly amazing…

And he was my hero… Always and forever…

Learning to navigate through this journey is different for everyone… The beginning of this journey is the hardest. There are no instructions and most of us have no idea what to do. We all move through this journey at our own pace and in our own way… and we each have our own experiences that help us make it through. If this feels familiar, we are here… you are not alone. If you are someone who needs a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. *

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Grieving Differently

(To my own family – This is not a rant or accusation. It was driven by observing my own behaviors. Please know I am so sorry for any pain or hurt I have caused… I am so thankful for each of you and love you more than I can possibly express here!)

Everyone grieves differently… We have all heard that. Yet, knowing it and living it can be two different things… As with most experiences in life, we all approach grief from a different angle, because we are different. Even people in the same family will approach grief differently, and sometimes that is the hardest – to allow those we love to experience grief in a different manner from our own.

When you lose someone you love, everything you read and hear tells you to find support. For many of us, there is the assumption that our family will be the best space to find that support. And in some ways, that is true… But in other ways, the fact that we are family can actually make supporting each other harder.

Keep in mind, if it is a situation where everyone is grieving the same loss… the same person, then everyone is hurting… Everyone is looking for support and trying to make sense of something that quite frankly, may not ever make sense. Maybe we are so caught up in our own pain, that we forget to leave space for understanding and compromise towards those we love most. Instead, there can be an underlying feeling that we should all be grieving in the same way and healing at the same pace…

But we don’t. Even in the same family, we have different personalities and life experiences… And despite being in the same family, we are each grieving the loss of a different relationship.

This is not a rant… I am referring to all of us… myself especially. For if I am honest, I must admit I have felt this way, too. As with everything else in grief, this part of the journey is a roller coaster, too… Not always one way, yet not always the other way either. There are days when I can easily be the one offering support and able to listen. While I may not completely understand what someone else is thinking and feeling, I can empathize and recognize their grief as being just as legitimate as my own.

Yet, there are just as many days when I want to scream and yell that I am hurting, too – and in that moment, my pain feels worse than anyone else’s possibly could. Sometimes, I want to roll my eyes and stomp my feet and walk away. I don’t want to listen… I want to be heard. I don’t want to be understanding… I want to be understood.

I am embarrassed… All of this is hard to admit, but I promised when I started this to be honest here… To share my experiences as they happen.

From what I have read, heard and experienced, while we will usually allow other people the space they need to grieve, families tend to expect each other to grieve in a similar fashion… For whatever reason, we tend to be less patient with each other, and that can create a truly volatile atmosphere which has the potential to be damaging to everyone.

“Lastly, family members will need to understand that while their closeness may be supportive in their grief, it also can make them likely to displace blame, anger, and other hostile feelings onto one another, to avoid communication for fear of upsetting the other, or to place irrational demands on each other.”

~ connect.legacy.com

Another part of the problem may be something called the “multiplier effect.” This occurs when the grief of one family member triggers the grief of another (or all). In the beginning, this is normal as everyone’s grief is so acute. However, as time passes and each individual moves through grief in their own way and time, this effect can create impatience with one another. While the paths of our grief journey split off in different directions, there seems to be a part of us that wants to “stick together as a family”… to grieve in a similar fashion – following identical paths.

However, that isn’t possible… Logically we know, we are all individuals with varying needs, but it can be hard to remember we are each grieving the loss of a different relationship. We know we don’t like others to tell us how to feel in our grief, but we also need to remember not to do the same to those we love either. Instead, we need to allow each other the space to feel what we feel and to express it in the way that will work best for each of us…

Put simply – we need to remember to offer what we would like to receive… love, patience and someone willing to simply be there in our hardest moments…

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… Does Grief Change You?

“Of course we change. Maybe not the entire personality traits but the way we react to certain things, events, and people. The way we observe life changes.”
~ daughter2010, Grief Healing Discussion Group

All my life, I have been happy… Like anyone, I had my sad moments, but overall, I was always able to see the positive side of anything… I could always find something to like about anyone. That positive attitude has guided my life and my attitude for as long as I can remember…

But now… Well, I don’t know…

When I lost Bruce, I was devastated. I couldn’t comprehend the idea of a life without him… a life without “us.” I felt a lot of emotions (and not one of them was positive). I was angry… very angry. And I trusted no one… After all, if I couldn’t trust God, who could I trust?

I was told all these negative thoughts and emotions are a normal part of grief, but they were new to me. I had never felt such intense negativity before, and to be honest, I didn’t know what to do with it. Like I said, I had been sad and angry before – but never to this degree or for this long. I felt like I was being sucked into a dark hole, and I couldn’t find my way back out… And that was just the beginning of the journey… There was still a long road ahead.

Thankfully, I have a few friends and family members who have stayed by my side… who didn’t let my emotional roller coaster scare them away. While they hadn’t lost a spouse, they seemed to understand the range and depth of the emotions I felt. They never gave up on me… They never told me how to feel or not feel. They never made me feel wrong or crazy. They just stayed by my side, listened and held me when I cried.

I remember talking to them in the beginning and sharing my fear of becoming an angry, bitter old woman… It seemed like a very real possibility. Their answers were simple and kind… They told me they didn’t think that would happen, and they would tell me if it did. And through the years, they have never lost faith in me.

The truth is, though, I have changed… While I haven’t become the bitter, angry woman I feared, I am no longer the positive, “trust-the-world-no-matter-what” person I used to be. Instead, I seem to find myself somewhere in the middle.

While I’m not always sure I like who I am, I know I can’t go back to who I was. As with any trauma, grief has created a “new normal.” I’m still me… I still have the same characteristics, but it’s all different. It seems as if the balance of those characteristics has changed. And because of this change, I see and experience the world differently now.

For example, I have always been an introvert. (Don’t confuse this with being shy – I’m not.) I love and care about people – I enjoy being with people. However, my energy for life comes from those quiet moments alone – from the peace I find in solitude. (Bruce was the same way, so with him, this felt normal.) Since Bruce died, this characteristic has not changed, but it has become greater.

Whereas in the past, I would take these moments where I could and make do, now I purposely seek out this time for myself. Those around me seem to accept it even if they don’t understand it. Thankfully, it is rarely seen as selfish… In fact, it is common to hear “I know all is normal, when you are off by yourself writing in your journal or just sitting alone.”

There are other changes, though that seem to be more noticeable… and perhaps harder for the people around me to accept…

For example, in the past I was much more chatty, (which evidently seemed friendlier). Now, however, I listen more and talk less. Like before, I still talk to anyone, but now I’m not real inclined to initiate the conversation. I guess, I’m no longer interested in small talk… That is not my comfort zone, and is a bit of a struggle for me. However, I really do enjoy listening to people and their stories – I love a real conversation – something genuine… And is that really a bad thing?

As I said, the characteristics seem to stay remain the same just the balance changes…

Another example, is my need to express myself creatively. In the past, I did this in more organized ways, such as choirs and theater, but that all stopped when Bruce died. My need for genuine expression, however, is still here. Only now it shows up in new ways, and has become my avenue for grief and healing.

For example, I’m not a “lay-in-bed-and-pull-the-covers-over-my-head” widow; nor am I a “forget-it-and-move-on” widow. (Don’t get me wrong… There is nothing wrong with those. You should do whatever is right for you. They just aren’t me.) I have found I need to express my grief in a more tangible way… That is where I have found healing.

So far (and I say, “so far,” because I am sure there will be more), I have taken up gardening and landscaped my yard (before I avoided yard work at all costs). I have painted pictures filled with rage and hurt, as well as pictures of our favorite places (whereas before I only painted theater sets and wall murals). I, also, started writing (first in a journal and now this blog).

For whatever reason, this has become my way of remembering Bruce and honoring his memory. Will I do it forever? I don’t know… All I know is I have to heal in my own way… And this feels right for me in this moment…

One the biggest changes for me, though, has been my own emotional strength… My belief in myself and learning to live the life I want, rather than living my life to please others. This has been the biggest change for me. I grew up to be a “pleaser.” I would avoid conflict at all costs… I just wanted everyone to be happy and “get along.” However, while that feels “safe ” to me, it is not healthy, and the cost was high. By trying to please everyone else, I lost myself.

However, when Bruce and I were married, he encouraged me to simply be me. He showed me how to be strong. He showed me it was possible to be kind and loving, while still being true to myself. Even then, there were a few people in my life that balked at this. But I had Bruce’s support, and I was learning to find that balance.

Then suddenly, he was gone… I felt so lost. Now I had to find that strength on my own, and it was hard. I know there are those who struggle with my strength/confidence and push back… It’s not the way I was. At times like this, I doubt myself… I think it would just be easier to go back to my old habits. But then, I think of Bruce and the strength he saw inside me, and I keep going.

So the question was “Does grief change you?” I have to say, “yes.” I know it has changed me… Then, the next question is “Do I accept that or do I go back to who I was before?”… Honestly, I can’t go back – not anymore… The loss of Bruce has changed my entire world. It has changed my whole outlook on life and those things I value and hold dear…

I guess this is me now… And I think I’m okay with that.

“I must think for myself and come always from a place of love.”
~ Wayne Dyer

Learning to navigate through this journey is different for everyone… For many of us, the changes created by our grief can be confusing and overwhelming to ourselves and others. Learning to be open to new possibilities can feel impossible at times. Yet at other times, this is what gives us hope. We all move through this journey at our own pace and in our own way… and we each have our own experiences. If this feels familiar, we are here… you are not alone. If you are someone who needs a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. *

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Attached

This week in my martial arts class, our instructor asked a question… “Have you ever been so attached to how you thought something was going to happen that when it didn’t happen that way, you were disappointed?”

The lesson, of course went on to discuss how important it is to not be attached to what you believe will happen, but instead, being open to all possibilities and learning to “roll with the punches.” Of course, he was relating this lesson back to the strategies of sparring, and it was a great analogy…. Everyone can relate to that experience. However, immediately my mind was elsewhere…

My mind was on Bruce… and the future we thought lay before us…

The miracle of two people living in opposite parts of the country, meeting in the Caribbean and falling in love was never lost on us. It was something we constantly marveled. (In fact, Bruce used to tell me I should write a book about it… Little did either of us know this is how our story would be told.)

There seemed to be no end to the depth of our connection and love for each other. While I will always believe he knew his time was limited, I had no idea. In my mind, we had forever. I was convinced we would grow old together… I was definitely attached to the idea of a long future together for us… Death was no where on my radar.

How could “forever” not be our future? We were each other’s world… each other’s best friend. We could sit for hours without saying a word – just holding hands or snuggling. We always fell asleep in each other’s arms and woke up the same way. We laughed together, cried together, and entrusted those things closest to our hearts with each other. After 8 years together, we were still learning about each other, and a simple touch could still leave me with butterflies in my stomach and feeling weak in the knees.

Of course, I was attached to the idea of more… How can you love someone and not be attached to the idea of a future together?

I remember about a year after Bruce died, someone told me, “I used to wish I could find someone to love the way you and Bruce loved each other. But after seeing how much you are hurting, I hope I never love anyone the way you two loved each other.”

That shocked me a little bit when it was first spoken, and since then I have given it a lot of thought…

What about me? Would I have let myself fall in love with Bruce if I knew what the future held? I believe I would… Don’t get me wrong. I hate this thing called grief – I think it is BS and it sucks! My whole life has changed… In fact, my whole outlook on life has changed!

But, to imagine a life that never included Bruce is far worse!

Maybe that is why grief is so hard… There is constant inner conflict – Conflict between what is and what you thought would be… Conflict between what the world says you should feel and what you really feel.

For example, the world tells you there are “seven stages” of grief. (Which, by the way, is completely false!) I am a “list” person, so when I first read this, I had some hope… I really believed this would be my ticket to healing. However, I soon learned these stages are actually for someone facing their own impending death. The world, however, has taken this list and tried to apply it to the grief process. The problem is grief doesn’t really work that way.

Yes, when you are grieving, you will experience these stages… Just not quite the way you might think. It is different. There is no checklist and no nice, neat stages to master… Instead, you cycle through each stage (and every emotion) over and over… And in no particular order… And without an end in sight.

Once you recognize that, you also understand what it means when they say, “You never really heal from grief. Instead, you just learn how to live with it.” (Something I couldn’t understand until I lived it.)

Bruce and I had a lot of dreams and plans for our future. We knew we wanted to retire and travel… We wanted to sell everything, buy a boat and just sail from island to island. We wanted to see our children and grandchildren grow up and discover whatever the world held for them. All we wanted was a simple life made up of things like time together at the beach or kayaking. In fact, those were our plans together the weekend he died… Plans for things we would never do…

Were we attached to those things? Yes, I guess so… Because the moment he was gone so were all those plans and dreams. And sometimes it has been just as hard to let go of those as to let go of him. Somehow, they all seem to be intertwined, and I can’t let go of one without letting go of all of it… And letting go of even one piece brings on a whole new round of emotions and grief.

So, the question… Have I ever been so attached to how I thought something was going to turnout and when it didn’t happen that way, was I disappointed? Obviously, yes. But have I learned to be open to all possibilities and “roll with the punches?” Hmmm… I would have to say I’m still working on it…

And I believe, my “working on it” is what grief really is…

I sit in the sun,
Enjoying its warmth.
On the horizon,
I can see the ever-present clouds –
The darkness of a storm
That can hit at any moment.
Some days it stays on the horizon,
Present but not a threat.
Other days, it blows in – shutting out the sun
And attacking my very soul.
I never know from what direction the wind will blow.
Will it blow and keep the storm away?
Or
Will it blow the storm directly in my path?
I never know moment to moment
Where it will be,
But I always know it is there…
Somewhere.
~Linda, April 2016

Learning to navigate through this journey is different for everyone… For many of us, the confusion and emotions of grief can be overwhelming even on the best of days. Learning to be open to new possibilities can feel impossible at times and at other times, give us hope. We all move through it at our own pace and in our own way… And we each have our own experiences that help us make it through. If this feels familiar, we are here… you are NOT alone. If you are someone who needs a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. *

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

Please note – I will be spending next weekend with family (and without a computer). Therefore, there will not be a blog next week, but I will be back the following week (July 23).