grief journey – Page 36 – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love and Grief… For our friends and family

Did you know… 800,000 people are widowed each year?

Did you know… 700,000 of those are women?

Did you know… most widows live in poverty? (Over 115 million world wide)

Did you know… for the past thirty or more years the rate of poverty among elderly widows is consistently three to four times higher than elderly married women.

Did you know… “death of a spouse” is listed as the #1 stressor on the stress index scale and is considered one of life’s most devastating events?

Did you know… 60% of those who lose a spouse or significant other will experience a serious illness within 12 months?

Did you know… insomnia is one of the most common symptoms for a grieving spouse?

Did you know… if a man survives his 50s, he will likely live to “old age?”

Did you know… The average age of widowhood is 55, and 75 percent of women will be widowed by age 56?

Did you know… most widow(er)s lose 75% of their support base when their spouse dies?

Did you know… after 3 – 4 months most of the remaining support fades for a widow(er)?

Did you know… most widow(er)s lose touch with their in-laws within a year of a loss?

Did you know… scamming and manipulation are common practice toward the widowed?

Did you know… it really is possible to die of a broken heart? Widow(er)s have a 30% elevated risk of death in the first 6 months after their spouses died.

Did you know… almost half the women over 65 years of age in the US are widows and about 7:10 of these women live alone?

Those are the statistics, but let’s talk about the real world… Oh wait, that is the real world.

These are not pretty numbers… They do not reflect what Hollywood tells us. Instead, they tell us the truth… They tell us the reality of many of your loved ones’ lives.

Do you know someone who is widowed? More than likely, they spend most of their time alone. More than likely, they fall into many of these statistics. It is also more than likely they will not tell you. I know because I fall into many of these numbers just as so many other widows I have met on this journey.

While every statistic is not true for every person, you might be surprised to know what is true. To give you an idea, I will share “my statistics.”

When I read these numbers, immediately I know I am blessed. I have a wonderful job with retirement plans for the not-to-distant future. While I do not live in poverty, many of the women in my initial support group were unable to support themselves and were losing their homes. Several were looking for room-mates… someone to share expenses, or a room to rent in someone else’s home. They couldn’t make it alone financially, but their families were not able (or willing, in some cases) to help either.

I have not been seriously ill since Bruce died. We were both into health and fitness, and I have continued that practice to this day. I learned a long time ago that exercise produces endorphins (a natural, self-produced, “feel good” chemical)… and goodness knows, I can definitely use that!

I have had sleep issues since Bruce passed. For the first year or so, I would wake up most nights at the exact same time I was awakened the night he died. (Trauma related, I suppose.) Now, that only happens a few times a month. Most nights, while I go to bed in time to get 8 – 9 hours of sleep, I usually wake up every couple of hours and remain awake for 30 minutes to an hour each time. If I can manage 4 – 5 hours total, it is a good night.

Bruce was only 52 when he passed away, and I was 51… I believe that covers those two statistics…

I did lose MOST of what I thought would be my support base. However, I gained many new friends who have been by my side day in and day out. They have become my “trusted few,” and I am forever in their debt.

As for my in-laws, they are wonderful. I was terrified of losing touch with them (and told them so) after Bruce’s memorial. However, after 3 years, they are still as close to me as ever, and I love them so very much.

Since Bruce died, I have definitely encountered my fair share of scammers and manipulation. It is amazing how many people are quick to take advantage of someone in a vulnerable state. Some of it has come from phone calls or sales pitches. (Those were easy to recognize.) Other situations have come from people I thought were my friends or acquaintances who I thought genuinely cared. These are harder to recognize. However, I have gotten better at it… or maybe I have just learned to be a lot more cautious. I used to trust anyone until they proved (several times) they shouldn’t be trusted. Now I hold back on the trust until I am sure of their intentions.

I have not died of a broken heart (obviously), although I certainly thought I would the first year. My blood pressure is slightly higher than before (although still very normal). Now, (years later), good health through natural healing is my goal.

I live alone and spend most holidays alone. However, I consider myself blessed. Even though we are a scattered family, my kids make sure I am “covered” for the “big ones,”… and I am learning new ways to celebrate the others. What never ceases to stun me into silence, though, are the people who say they are jealous of my solitude… Inside, I shake my head… They have no idea! I always want to tell them there is a difference is choosing solitude and being thrown into it unexpectedly.

As for me, I really am adjusting… slowly. In other words, each day I am learning to to be a little more okay by finding the blessings in my circumstances.

But what about your neighbor, friend or family member? Do you see them or their situation in those numbers? Is there anything you can do to make a difference? Are you willing to do that?

Please… don’t be afraid to reach out and make a difference…

Do you want to share your story or your thoughts? Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

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Peace, Love and Grief… The tiger in a cage

I am learning.
Healing is finding peace within myself…
Not trying to draw it in from others…
Linda, Septermber 15, 2013

Grief is one of those things that people try to understand while at the same time trying to avoid the experience. I remember being told to “give it time.” In time, my “heart would heal.” However, some people (and books) were actually daring enough to admit that the pain would never completely heal… I remember reading that it would be more like a scar that still caused a dull ache every now and then.

Perhaps both of those experiences are true for some people – however, not for me. After three years, I can say without a doubt, it still hurts… a lot! For me, grief is more like a caged tiger… You may think you have it under control, but you must check the strength of the bars daily just to be safe.

Soon after Bruce passed away, I started tracking my dreams in my journal. I have always believed that our dreams subconsciously tell us a lot about what we are really thinking and feeling. They are our mind’s way of processing our life and emotions. Writing and tracking my dreams has allowed me to acknowledge and deal with a lot of emotions throughout this journey. I wrote about one of those dreams on the morning of January 24, 2013, just two weeks after Bruce’s death.

I don’t think I can survive this. Everyone says I’m doing great, I’m gonna be okay, I’m strong… but I don’t think so. This is more than I can bear. My heart is in pieces. I can’t even breathe and to move feels like a huge chore… This pain is too intense. No wonder some people die of a broken heart. Survival is such a struggle right now… You were my whole world… and now my world is gone.

I woke up last night about 11:30, and the song, The Hurt and the Healer, was playing. (I’ve never heard it before.) Before I woke up, I was dreaming I was on a playground, curled up in one of those baby swings. My guardian angel was pushing the swing and gently coaxing me to climb out. Then, he started singing that song, and I woke up… I think that dream and that song were sent to me for comfort…

This dream was all about my “tiger”… But I don’t believe it was “in its cage” yet. I was only a few weeks into this journey – I was still numb and raw and struggling for air. This was the dream of a woman who wanted to quit… But my life has become a testament of that same woman who has refused to quit.

As I said, for me, grief is like a tiger in a cage. One must learn to live with that tiger because ignoring it is denial and that holds a different set of dangers. Instead, one must learn to be courageous, and acknowledge it. However, never think the tiger has become tame enough for you to simply leave the door open or to go into the cage and sit peacefully beside it. No, it will always be dangerous… It will still devour you if you allow the opportunity.

In the last year, I have learned to decide my attitude before the day begins. I have learned to keep my tiger in its cage by starting the day with gratitude before my feet ever hit the floor. I have learned to be very careful about the first things I “feed” my mind in the morning. I stay away from email, Facebook, the news, or anything that might move my thoughts in a negative direction before I have had time to remember the blessings still surrounding me.

Before I started this practice and on the days I forget, it is like opening that tiger’s cage. It is dangerous territory. There is a saying that the things we focus on, expand. So for me, when the negative stuff is the first thing in, my mind starts to focus on that. Soon that focus turns to my grief and pain… And before I know it, the pain has expanded and takes over my day (or several days).

The other thing I must remember is that I will impact every person I encounter in a day… So my first choice of the day will not only impact me, it will impact everyone I meet, as well. It is up to me to decide if that impact will be a positive or a negative one.

I know that my grief and my pain were never my choice… That is my “tiger.” However, how I deal with it, my attitude and my daily outlook IS my choice. So, whether I choose to let that tiger loose or place it safely in its cage, is up to me.

I am responsible daily for choosing my attitude… And that attitude will determine the impact I have on the world around me.

I don’t always make the right choice… Some days I open up that cage, walk right in and sit for a while. But as time goes on, I am spending less and less time in that cage…

And that is my choice.

Do you have a story to share? A story about coming to terms with your grief? A story of your own tiger and how you handle it?

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… This can’t be the man I love

Some days I am just lonely… I could be in a crowd of people or with a group of dear friends, but knowing that Bruce is gone – I feel lonely. Today is one of those days. I remember another one of those days. The day I picked up Bruce’s ashes from the funeral home… That day I felt the most alone I have ever felt – both physically and emotionally.

I need to start this story by going back… back to the hours, days and weeks after Bruce passed away. Some of these memories are sketchy, which is normal due to the shock the body experiences at times of such trauma. But because I almost immediately started keeping a journal, most of these early experiences were captured there. When I reread these entries, I find that I remember some of it, have absolutely no recollection of other parts of it, and still other vague, foggy memories are triggered as I read what I wrote and felt.

Our last time together was on a Friday night. Bruce passed away in the wee hours of Saturday morning. When the Medical Examiner’s office came to pick up his body from the hospital a few hours later, I was preparing to leave. Someone handed me a card with the Medical Examiner’s information and told me I could “call tomorrow to make arrangements” for Bruce’s body. In all honestly, I had no idea what they were talking about. Now, it is obvious, but at the time, I was so lost and confused… in complete denial and incredibly overwhelmed.

Most of my and Bruce’s family started arriving at our house later that morning and on into the evening. I don’t remember a lot about who showed up when, but I do remember bits and pieces of those first few days.

I remember my sister showing up with tons of tissue, which was brilliant on her part because I never used to keep this in my house. (Now I keep it in every room since I never know when I’m going to need it.) I remember my Mom and sister cooking and waiting on everyone there… meal after meal. (They worked so hard!) I remember the awful, quiet when nobody knew what to say, because there was nothing to be said that would make any of us feel better. I remember people saying they would stay for as long as I needed them. (Which, of course, was an impossible promise.)

I, also, remember being asked if I knew “what Bruce wanted”… which I did. Whenever he and I had these discussions, Bruce had always said he wanted to be cremated and have his ashes scattered in the ocean. As he put it, he “did not want to sit on a shelf somewhere.” He didn’t want a viewing or a church service… He hated being the center of attention, and even in death, he wanted everything to be simple. But that was pretty much all I knew. It’s not like we ever really thought this was going to happen any time soon… We had never sat down and wrote out a plan.

At some point on Sunday, Bruce’s Dad (who is one of the dearest people I have ever known) asked if I had called a funeral home yet. I was stunned! ME? I was the one who was supposed to do that?? I don’t remember exactly what I said or how that kind, dear man answered me, but a short time later, I found myself looking in the Yellow Pages for a funeral home in a town I barely knew.

I didn’t know one funeral home from another, but opted for the one that was less than a mile from our home. I remember the man who answered told me no one was there that day, but he would have someone call me first thing Monday morning. “… By 10 am, ” he assured me. I don’t know what I expected to hear when I called on a Sunday, but it seemed odd that I couldn’t even set up an appointment… and stranger still was the amount of time I would have to wait to even start making any type of arrangements.

Monday morning came and went with no call. By mid-afternoon, I finally called again and was told, “Oh yes. I got your message. But we got busy here and I forgot.” Since customer service is a huge part of my own job, I was a bit appallled. Even if he did forget, why would he say that to someone who is already dealing with a tragedy?? At this point in my journey, I know I should have just called another funeral home. However, at that point, it didn’t even register that I had options.

A short time later, my sister, Bruce’s sisters and I went to the funeral home to meet with the director and “make arrangements.” All I remember is he asked so many questions… and thankfully, Bruce’s sisters were there to answer – I couldn’t remember anything. (I don’t think I could even spell my own name.)

I remember giving the funeral director permission to write the obituary. (Never mind, he didn’t know Bruce at all). All I knew was I couldn’t do it. I also remember choosing the container for Bruce’s ashes. I knew I would be spreading his ashes in the ocean, so he wouldn’t need a permanent container. The one I chose had a picture of an ocean sunset (or sunrise, I suppose) on it. I had noticed it when we walked in, and it reminded me of our trips to Key West. That was the only thing I remembering feeling confident about… everything else is just a blur.

Within the next day or two, my Mom and Dad left. Over the next few days, when his ashes were still not back, his family and my kids needed to leave, as well. The only person who remained was my sister. God love her! She stayed for as long as she could, but she has a family and responsibilities too… And eventually, she needed to go home as well.

I don’t really remember saying goodbye to anyone. I do remember walking back into the house after my sister left, and for the first time since that night being completely alone… and scared. I didn’t think I could do this… I didn’t want to do this. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me… Anything but this!

In my journal, I wrote:

Can we just begin again? Can I have these 8 years back? I know they were great, and I don’t really have any regrets – we hardly ever fought. I just want the time back! I want to feel his arms around me, a kiss on my neck from behind. I want to wake up on a lazy Sunday morning and make love knowing neither of us needs to hurry and go anywhere. I want to fall asleep in his arms. I want to skip the dinner dishes to snuggle with him on the couch. I miss hearing him call me “Babe” and Micheal, “Boudreaux.” I miss his empty beer cans on the counter and his mess in the bathroom. I miss the sureness of him sitting in his easy chair every morning – drinking tea, doing sudoku, watching the news and letting his heating pad do its magic on his back. I miss his strong hugs, his friendship, and his cheesy smile when he was trying to “pull one over on me.” I miss him. Please, send him back. I need him… I need him soooo much. Please, God! Don’t make me do this!

On the afternoon of January 23, the funeral home called… Bruce’s ashes were finally back and I needed to go pick them up. I didn’t really know my neighbors well enough to ask anyone to go with me, so I went alone.

I… was… terrified! This was too real! Too final!!

When I got to the funeral home, the death certificates weren’t complete, so I refused them. The secretary who had called and was assisting me, grudgingly took them back and started complaining that she had been out, she wasn’t feeling well, no one had told her anything… blah, blah, blah…

Really?? All I could think was, “My husband is dead. Why are you complaining to me? I really don’t care.” Of course I didn’t say that… Instead, I apologized that no one had told her, that I had inconvenienced her, and that she didn’t feel well. (Ridiculous!)

Then, to make matters worse, she tried to give me the wrong ashes. (Holy cow!) She kept insisting that the 5 small metal urns she was holding were Bruce. However, I saw the container I had chosen on the back of the shelf. I refused the ones she was trying to hand me and pointed out the correct one, explaining that I had chosen a temporary urn, since we would be spreading his ashes in the ocean.

After a frustrated sigh, checking and rechecking the tags and paperwork and a (never-ending) monologue about what she wanted done with her own ashes, she finally took Bruce’s ashes off the shelf and put them into a shopping bag – complete with the funeral home logo!… I was so horrified! A shopping bag??!! Do these people also put their logo on the sides of their caskets?? I was completely disgusted… It felt so commercial… so irreverent… To put it simply, it was just plain wrong!

Once I was back in my car, I remember looking at the container and thinking, “This can’t be Bruce! How can the man I knew and loved be in this small container.” I didn’t dare look inside… I knew I couldn’t handle that. Instead, I placed the container in my lap and literally wailed all the way home. It was the most UNreal experience I’ve ever known.

Once I got home, I place his ashes on his dresser and lit several candles around it. Then, I sat vigil for the next 24 hours (or so). I remember thinking I didn’t want to leave him… I couldn’t leave him… I needed to stay right there and protect him. I can’t explain why this seemed so important at the time, all I know is it did. For whatever reason, I needed to do this.

As I sat there, I wrote in my journal… Here is a small sample:

I toast to you, Bruce.
the best man who ever lived.
You taught me love and kindness.
You taught me to live life and not just work.
You taught me that even when family makes you crazy, it’s okay. They are wonderful and to still love them.
Be happy, Babe! Don’t sail too far away – wait for me, again…
I love you!

During those hours, I remember one thought kept going through my mind over and over, “How can this be Bruce?” Surely he was more than this dust sitting in front of me. I remember wondering, “What is it that makes us who we are? Is it our soul? What is a soul? What is our spirit? What is it that makes us who we are?”

I can’t say that I have all the answers, but over time, I have come to know this for sure…

The part of us that makes us who we are, whether you call that spirit or soul, is not physical. Like our thoughts and emotions, it cannot be seen or held or touched. Instead, it is an energy that we put out into the world. It is just as real and just as present as our physical bodies, maybe even more so… but it was not in that container of ashes. Those ashes were only the “physical Bruce.”

And I love Bruce’s spirit… his soul… his energy… and according to what I believe, that part is eternal…

Do you have a story to share? A story about coming to terms with your loved one’s death? If so, please share it with us… This is OUR community. Feel free to share your thoughts and experiences by going to the comments and leaving 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… Hearts, Presidents and Us

The day this is posted will be Valentine’s Day… and the next day will be President’s Day. However, in 2005, these holidays fell on consecutive weekends instead of the same weekend. For Bruce and I, these weekends were significant.

In 2005, our relationship was just beginnning. After returning from the cruise where we met, we had started emailing and calling each other. We knew how wonderful things had been on the cruise, and we knew our relationship seemed special. However, both of us felt like we needed to some face to face time (not on a cruise) to see what was real between us and what wasn’t.

In an email to Bruce, after one of these conversations, I wrote:

“Here’s a question… What’s the weather like in Michigan in February? Could a person get a horse drawn sleigh ride and then find a place to get warm? Or is it too miserable? (Just a question, mind you.) Actually, every weekend is filled up from now to February 12, but President’s Day weekend is a long weekend for us, so I was just thinking… I don’t know… Where do you think a person should go?”

To which Bruce responded:

“February in Michigan is usually cold and snowy. Perfect weather for a sleigh ride. I think we could find a place to warm up afterwards… We really think alike. Monday, I was checking the internet for airfares to SC for the weekend of February 12.”

At that time, I lived in a small town with a lot of caring and loving people… Which is exactly why I wanted this face to face get together to be in Michigan. I did not want my whole town watching while we tried to figure things out… We needed this to be between us. So, needless to say, I would be the one traveling… I booked a trip to Michigan for President’s Day weekend.

Valentine’s Day that year was exactly one week before President’s Day. I was teaching at a small parochial school with a mostly female (married or dating) staff. All day long, I watched the other teachers receive flowers and candy. I don’t know why I thought he might send me anything. I knew Bruce and I weren’t technically “in a relationship.” (We were trying to figure out if that was what we even wanted.) But I also knew neither of us were seeing anyone else and feelings between us were strong. However, as the day wound down and the kids headed home, I was resigned to the idea that at best there might be a card in the mail when I got home… And, honestly, who could really have expected anything more than that?

As I walked into the office to “clock out” for the day, the school secretary said, “Oh, thank goodness! I thought you were gone. This package came earlier this morning and somehow I missed getting it to you.” … And there on the counter was a medium sized box.

I opened it and inside was an Island Bear holding a dozen “roses” and a note.

He hadn’t forgotten me after all. The gift was perfect – it wasn’t overly romantic, but it was definitely something to remind me of our time together on the cruise.

The next weekend I flew to Michigan. I remember being so scared! What if I got there, and he wasn’t who he said he was or who I thought he was. What if things got weird? What if it was a bust?… But… Then again… What if it were wonderful?

I will always remember walking down the corridor at the airport, and there was Bruce, leaning against the wall watching the passengers walk toward him. As soon as he spotted me, his eyes lit up, and he smiled like a Cheshire cat.

The weekend was beautiful! We had our first “land” date. On Saturday, he tried to take me for a sleigh ride (he had made reservations) but there was not enough snow on the ground. Instead, he took me exploring all over the western side of Michigan… Which is beautiful, by the way!

We went out to Lake Michigan to see the icebergs and snowy beaches. (Ewwww!) We went to an Ice Carving competition (something you won’t find on the sidewalks in SC). We even found a cozy pub where we could keep warm while enjoying some spiced cider. One night we went out with his sisters. It was an instant connection between us girls. On our last night together, he cooked a wonderful dinner for me (including fish he had caught and peas he had grown in his garden).

On the night we had dinner with his sisters, right before we headed out, I remember Bruce taking me in his arms, looking into my eyes and saying, “I don’t want to scare you off,… But I really think I am falling in love you.”

“I’m not scared,” I answered. “I think I’m falling in love with you, too.”

Valentine’s and President’s Day weekend always found us reminiscing and smiling… so thankful that we took a chance (and won). These days marked a very special moment for us… That moment when we knew our lives would be forever intertwined… when we realized we our souls were inseparable…

Bruce always did something special during this time of year. He always thought it up and planned it. (All I had to do was show up.) Every other year, he planned a trip, just like that first year. Once we went further north to a ranch in Michigan – that was the year I finally got my sleigh ride. One year, it was a trip to St. Augustine. And our last Valentines together, we went to Key West. Each of these memories has a special place in my heart… each one is unique and precious.

That was then… But this is now…

Physically, Bruce is gone… This year, like the past few years, I will not be receiving any bears or flowers or candy or cards. I will, however, always know that I still love him…

And in my heart, I know he is still with me… and he always will be.

Are these holidays special for you too? Do they hold special memories that you would like to share? Sometimes sharing our memories is a way of making sure our loved ones are not forgotten. Please do so… This is our community. Feel free to share your thoughts and experiences by going to the comments and leaving 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… And time moves on

It Still Hurts

Sometimes I can’t breathe for the pain of it.
Other times I smile and laugh at the thought of our memories.
You were always that way…
making me smile or laugh when I wanted to cry…
when the pain was so bad.
Now my heart hurts…
truly, physically hurts with the missing of you.
I feel your soul;
I know you are here.
But I need to see your eyes and your smile;
Feel the comfort of your arms.
I want to breathe in your presence
and feel your love in all these things.
But that isn’t to be…
All I have are the memories;
The memories of our love…
And…
Sometimes I can’t breathe for the the pain of it.
~ Linda, Oct. 19, 2013

I remember when I wrote that poem. It had been 10 months since Bruce died. For the rest of the world, their lives were back in order. (At least that is the way I saw it.) But, not for me. My life was still upside down. I was still experiencing all the “dreaded firsts,” and I still had 2 more months to go before I would finish that “first year.”

I don’t know why, but there is a notion or a feeling that if you can get through (aka survive) that first year, it will all be okay… You will feel better… Life will start to feel normal again.

That, my friends, is a lie.

I remember starting that second year with so much hope that I would feel better, cry less and hurt less. But what I found was I still grieved; I still cried, and I still hurt. Life was still marching forward, but I still seemed to be out of step with the rest of the world.

On January 23, 2014, (after the one year anniversary of Bruce’s death) I wrote:

Good morning , Babe… Sad today… miss you so much. I know I’m doing better ’cause I have more and more good days, but today I am sad… went to bed sad, cried most of the night and woke up sad… Something about walking into the bedroom and knowing that I was crawling in to this bed without you… again, was too much. I just miss you! I try not to let myself dwell on it too much because it gets me too down, but other times, I need to let it out… It’s been forever since I felt the touch of your love, Babe.

A few days later on February 4, I wrote:

Hi Babe! Loving you this morning… I cried myself to sleep (again) last night. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever not cry myself to sleep… or miss you so bad my heart feels like it will rip in half. Still kinda teary this morning. The thing is – now (because it has been more than a year) I feel like I have to hide it… It is so frustrating!

Even this week, I found myself struggling and wrote:

Hi, Babe! I am really missing you tonight! How can this be real? Here I am – 3 years later – and still half expecting you to walk though the door – OR – to wake up and find this has been one horrible nightmare. I sit here at my desk looking at pictures of us and I remember all the smiles and all the love. I’ll never understand why it had to end or how to make the hurting stop. I think… No, I know, what we had was so special and I’ll never stop loving you! It took us so long to find each other that we never took “us” for granted. I have no regrets for how we spent our time together. But I never thought our time together would be so short. It went by so fast.

Why am I sharing this? What is the point?

My point is this – the pain never really goes away. It is as if you broke a leg but never had it set correctly… it just healed as it was. You learn to live with it… You learn to laugh and walk and maybe even run, but it is never the same.

Over the last 3 years, I have learned to crawl, then walk… and even run. I have learned to laugh again. I have learned to dance again. I have learned to live life again. I have learned to trust that God or the universe or whatever you want to call it has not abandoned me, is not against me nor is he punishing me… In fact, he loves me and has my back.

I know I was blessed… I know I still am. Bruce’s purpose on this earth was completed before mine, and that is a sad reality that I have to accept. ( But I hate it!) However, the fact that we had a life together at all is a miracle.

I have come to understand that my life now is determined by my perspective… Some days are easier than others. Some days are harder than others… and that is actually normal. But ultimately… it is my choice.

What do I know… even when days are hard?

I know there are still lessons for me to learn and a purpose for me to explore.

If you have experienced loss, you have probably learned lessons, too. This is our community, please share your story with us. Feel free to share your thoughts and experiences by going to the comments and leaving a note.*

Maybe you learned something different… There is no one right answer. Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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

Peace, Love and Grief… What do you do with “the stuff?”

From the very beginning, grief seems to be a constant battle concerning “what do I do about ____?” One could spend hours, maybe days filling in that blank. There are so many things that pop up, and immediately, you find yourself asking, “What do I do about that?” (Grief finds you so unprepared!)

I tend to be a research fanatic so even from the start I always went straight to my books or the internet looking for the “proper” answer… society’s answers. What would society tell me is the “right” response?… The “acceptable” behavior?

It’s funny, but nine times out of ten, my research would produce a “do-what’s-right-for-you” answer. That was reassuring, but the problem was this…

So many people in my life had not experienced loss like this yet and had not read the same research. They had their own ideas of what I should do. Up until a few months ago, that was devastating to me, because I wanted to be a “good widow” and do “what’s right.” But at the same time, I needed to be true to me… true to my heart.

Nowadays, I must admit, I don’t really care what society says is right or what someone else thinks I should do… I don’t really pay any attention or let it get to me. I appreciate that everyone has an opinion, but only because that means I do too… and mine is as valid as anyone else’s. In fact, I’ve come to realize that for me and my situation, mine is the only valid opinion.

For example, when Bruce passed away, he (obviously) left his “stuff” behind. He was a minimalist, so there wasn’t a lot, which only made those few items seem more precious to me.

In the first few weeks, I was too numb to even accept that he was gone. How could I even consider divvying up his belongings? I knew I wasn’t the only one grieving, and I knew others wanted something of his to remember him by, but I wasn’t ready… I couldn’t do it. People asked, and I said, “No.”

I wasn’t trying to be cruel or unfeeling. But, I had not come to terms with his death yet… There was a huge part of me that still expected him to walk through the door at any minute. How could I give away his stuff?

As I said, I did a lot of reading about what was the “right” thing to do. I found that some families actually went and cleared out the house without asking the widow(er) while they were out. Some people were okay with that; others were devastated. (I know myself… I would have been furious!) Thankfully, my family did not do this! (In fact, they never moved a single item without asking.)

Other widow(er)s came straight home from the funeral and packed up everything themselves. (But this was their choice, not someone else’s.) Still others left everything exactly as is for years, (even after remarrying). I knew none of those felt right for me. Then one day, I found a writer who said she had gone through things a little at a time, as she was ready.

Now, that was for me!

It took me months before I could actually start giving his things away with a loving heart and no regrets. The first few items went to his daughter, his parents and his sisters. Then, a few items to my kids and our grandson. After the one year mark, I knew I was ready to go through the rest of it and make some decisions.

I have a wonderful neighbor/friend who came and sat with me as I went through each item, one by one. She didn’t pick up things and take over, or tell me what to do… She was just there for support. If I asked about something, she would look at it objectively (with her expertise in antiques and collectibles) and give me an appraiser’s opinion. But she never told me what to do with it. She was just there to listen (as I shared memories), give me hugs and hand me tissues.

I spent a weekend going through everything of his. This may sound strange but there were a lot of boxes that I had never looked inside. Bruce was a very private man, and we had married later in life. So, I had always considered certain things private and respected that. I always felt that if and when he wanted to share the items in those boxes with me, he would.

But then he was gone… now, I had to do this myself. I must say that when I opened these boxes, I felt like I was invading his privacy on the one hand, and yet on the other hand, I was learning so much more about the man I love and what he thought was precious. In some ways, I was meeting a part of him for the first time… To say it was felt a bit strange would be an understatement.

“They” say, “Dead men don’t keep secrets.” (“They” aren’t kidding.) There were so many things about Bruce that made sense to me after going through these boxes… These boxes of things he found precious and important enought to keep. I had always loved him, but I came to understand him so much better.

By the end of the weekend, I had three piles… one to donate, one of specific items to give to specific people and one of items to keep. I placed several items on his dresser in our room as a memorial. It is still there today, and I look at these things each day… They remind me of everything that is Bruce. In the middle, there is a candle that I lit everyday for 2.5 years. (Currently, I only light it on special occasions… or when I just want to.)

T-shirts and jeans were his mode of dress. (He only owned one collared shirt… and no tie.) If we went somewhere that required more than a t-shirt, that was a formal occasion! So, I kept all of his t-shirts. Initially, I thought I would make a blanket from these. However, after three years, I find myself still sleeping in them… It is my way of feeling as if he is still holding me at night.

In addition, I kept his jacket and a couple of his favorite sweatshirts. (When I am having a “hard” day, I wear these to feel him close to me… It helps.) I also kept a few other items in a very small plastic bin. These are things such as his favorite hat, a uniform shirt, some personal items and the shoes he wore when we got married.

For the most part these items are just here… part of the backdrop of my life. But when I am having a rough day (or night), they bring me comfort. I can remember my grandmother doing the same at age 90+. I know some people may find these things strange, but I also know it’s all okay.

I know that I am doing the best I can each day… and that is good enough.

If you have experienced loss, you have probably been through this, too. This is our community, so please, share your story with us. Feel free also to share your thoughts and experiences by going to the comments and leaving a note.*

Maybe you did something different… There is no one right answer. Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Celebrating the dash between the dates

Tuesday, January 12… the 3 year anniversary of losing my Bruce… My hero, my gentle giant, my heart, my soul…

I spent days… no weeks… dreading this day. Knowing that this year I would be spending it on my own. I couldn’t say I was alone because there were a lot of people also grieving for Bruce. (He touched so many souls in his brief time here.) Also, there were a lot of people who offered their support if I needed them, and for that I am endlessly thankful.

The first year, I really didn’t know what to do. My sweet sister came, and we spent some time having a picnic at the beach… Then, a dinner of crab legs and champagne. It was nice, but in some way that I can’t explain, it just felt like it wasn’t enough. I just didn’t feel like it really celebrated Bruce.

Last year, two of my daughters were able to come and be with me for these days, which was a Godsend! As for the “celebration,” I knew I wanted to do something that I could carry on through the years whether I was alone or with others. I researched and came up with a few ideas. It worked… The day felt perfect; I had found a celebration tradition that felt right.

That brings me to this year…

I spent the day celebrating the dash between the dates… not mourning or focusing on that last date… the day my heart broke. I had already spent the previous days alone… meditating, writing in my journal, remembering, laughing, smiling, crying and preparing for this day.

I won’t lie. In some ways it was harder than I thought it would be and in other ways it was much better. (But, then again, isn’t that the way of grief?)

I woke up with the sun and set to work on a Bali flower basket for Bruce. These baskets of flowers are made to represent “giving back what has been given to you.” In Bruce’s basket, I included the following items:

⦁ Flowers – I’m not trying to be sassy here, but there were a lot of flowers to trim and arrange in the basket.
⦁ A flip flop charm as a token of Bruce, what he loved and his life’s attitude.
⦁ Rosemary because it is traditionally the herb of remembrance and love. (In fact, across cultures and time it has been used in funerals and burials.)
⦁ A letter from me to Bruce.
⦁ Two quotes: “Don’t die with your music still in you.” ~ Wayne Dyer and “If there’s a heaven for me, I’m sure it has a beach attached to it.” ~ Jimmy Buffet
⦁ Incense to carry my prayers for Bruce to heaven.

Once the basket was ready, I headed out to the beach – to an area that is in line with the area where Bruce’s ashes were scattered years ago. The weather was beautiful! With the breeze, it took a few minutes, but I lit the incense, and recited a reading and a prayer from his Memorial/ Ashes ceremony. Then, I placed the basket in the ocean and watched the waves take it…

Once it was gone, I toasted Bruce using one of his favorite drinks – a Jose Cuevo Margarita. (Following the “tradition” I have set on every special day for him, I “shared” most of it with him by pouring it into the waves.) I wasn’t in any hurry to leave, so I spent about an hour or so on the beach talking to my Babe – remembering so many fond times at that same beach… crying, laughing and meditating.

The next part of my celebration took me to one of Bruce’s favorite restaurants in our town. Yep – seafood! Now I will say that in the last few years, I have become quite accustomed to eating out alone… it is not a new or daunting experience for me anymore. However, when the hostess sat this lone widow at a huge table for 6+, I just laughed! (There were some awkward stares, but honestly, that doesn’t phase me!)

My bigger issue was what to order. Bruce’s very favorite was oysters but I developed an allergy to those years ago. So, I went for what was usually his second pick – Royal Reds (shrimp) with a sweet potato. : )

Once I was back home, I went to work on the prayer flags. This has been an on-going project throughout the holidays that included my kids, their partners, my grandson and myself. Prayer flags are a Tibetan tradition and are made of brightly colored cloth. These flags are decorated with positive symbols and/or quotes. The flags are, then, hung outside. Tradition holds that as the wind blows through the flags, the prayers and positive energy are carried throughout the world, blessing all of us.

As night fell, I dressed up for a special night of Jimmy Buffet tailgating. (Our favorite!) I lit all the candles and opened my present “from Bruce” – it was a bracelet with a charm that matches my memorial tattoo. Then, I spent the next few hours dancing and laughing the night away (with Bruce in my mind’s eye) while watching Jimmy Buffet – Live in Anguila.

Once the show was over, I wasn’t quite ready to call it a night. So, I listened to a few more CDs that were favorites of ours – Kenny Chesney and Rod Stewart, while I poured over photo albums and old letters and cards.

It was a beautiful day… a day filled with love and memories of the man who forever changed my life.

I love you, Babe… I am so blessed to celebrate your dash…

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For each of us dealing with loss, the anniversary of that loss is something we must deal with year after year. My hope in sharing my day is to offer an alternative to the normal grieving process we so easily find ourselves in. I can’t say that these traditions make losing Bruce easier to deal with, but it provides me with a choice to celebrate his life and who he was… and I think he would like that.

Would you be willing to share your story or thoughts? To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Facing another anniversary and I still remember…

I thought we had forever…
I never knew we were counting down
from the day we met.
~ Linda, Sept. 26, 2013

As I approach this weekend, I find myself in tears. I have fought it all week, but now it is time to let myself feel what I feel.

On Tuesday, January 12, it will be 3 years… Three years since my worse nightmare came true…

January 11, 2013 was a Friday. It will be forever ingrained in my mind. I got home late, and Bruce was even later. As a truck driver, he often worked 12 – 14 hour days. However, given his occupation, we were both thankful that he was a “local” driver and home every night.

That Friday he had left for work around 5 AM and returned home around 8 PM. I had already eaten, (Chicken Lo Mein, which I still do not eat to this day), but I sat with him as he ate the dinner he had picked up on his way home. We talked about the upcoming weekend and what we wanted to do… go to the beach, use the kayaks, or go out on the boat… It really didn’t matter as long as we were together and near the water.

I remember Bruce laughing and saying, “Whatever we do is fine with me… We could just see where the day takes us.”

That night we did our usual bedtime routine, kissed goodnight and snuggled up to sleep in each other’s arms. A few short hours later, it happened… I woke up around 1 AM to a strange noise. Bruce sounded like he was snoring but more than that… like he was having trouble breathing. I remember shaking him and shouting, “Wake up, Babe. You’re dreaming. Wake up.”

But he didn’t wake up. Instead, he seized up and then stopped breathing.

“No!” I thought. “This can’t be. This must be a dream. This can’t really be happening.” It was all so surreal.

I remember calling 911. I remember talking to the 911 operator, while trying to get dressed, unlock the door for the EMS crew, struggling to put something solid under Bruce so I could perform CPR, counting while doing compressions and the EMS team arriving. I remember watching as they continued the CPR, used the “paddles,” injected him with an epi-pen directly into his heart. I remember the line on the monitor staying flat no matter what they tried. I remember standing to the side watching all of that… and I remember thinking repeatedly, “This can’t be real. This isn’t happening. I need to wake up. I need to make this dream stop.”

But I wasn’t dreaming. Instead, it was all just the beginning of an absolute nightmare.

I remember a pastor coming in to “console” me and saying, “Just think of it as someone hit the ‘delete’ button on Bruce.” I remember that same pastor and the police officer, who had driven me to the hospital, talking about football over my head as I cried. There I was crying and lost because my husband had just died in my arms, and they were talking about a football game. I remember wanting them to leave but not knowing how to tell them.

I remember the nurse handing me Bruce’s wedding band “for safe keeping.” I remember being allowed some time to “say good-by.” I remember stroking his hair and his cheeks. I remember thinking he was going to open his eyes at any minute and say, “Gotcha.” But he didn’t. Instead, I remember squeezing his toes as I left the room, something I had always done when I walked past his lounger at home… and I remember kissing his cheek and saying, “I love you, babe. I will always love you… and until I see you again – Good-by.”

I remember the ride home in the same police car and thinking, “I’m alone… From now on, I will always be alone.” I wasn’t crying at that point… I was in such shock. I remember making phone calls (at 3:30 in the morning). I remember Bruce’s Mom crying out in pain and disbelief when I told her. Calls like that one are permanently fixed in my memory, while I do not even remember making others. However, I do remember the shock in each voice as I relayed the news that Bruce… My Bruce was dead. He was gone.

I couldn’t even begin to imagine at that point what that really meant.

I remember cleaning the house because everyone would be coming. I remember trying to clean the bed where he had died. I remember making lists, although I don’t remember what they were. Most of all, I remember thinking, “This can’t be real. This space… this house is ours. You can’t be gone! Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me here alone!”

But it was real… he was gone… I was alone.

I have spent 3 years (on Tuesday) coming to terms with that reality. Some days are better than others. I am working on my perspective and attitude. I know that what I choose to see in life is what I will see. However, I won’t lie. It is hard. I make myself get up each morning and say “thank you” for a new day. However, I also will be thankful when the time comes, and I am with Bruce again. (Not trying to upset anyone or insinuate anything – just an honest widow’s statement.)

So what will I do on Tuesday? Well, this will be my first year facing this anniversary by myself. I won’t say alone because there are a lot of people also grieving for Bruce. There are also a lot of people who have offered their support if I need them, and for that I am endlessly thankful.

My plan for Tuesday is similar to last year, and I am sure I will share it next week. But for today… tonight… and probably the next few days, I will be reliving our last few days together (especially that night) over and over…

and still wishing this was just a very bad dream…

and still praying I will wake up with Bruce next to me… holding me…

the way I remember.

Each morning I awaken
And I am reminded all over
That you are gone.
I call out to you…
Sometimes in only a whisper.
And I still feel your soul respond to mine…
~ Linda, March 22, 2015

For anyone dealing with loss, the anniversary of that loss is something we must endure year after year. I don’t know if it ever gets easier. So far, for me it is still just as painful… the tears and grief, just as strong.

Would you be willing to share your story or thoughts? To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Lessons learned at Thanksgiving (part 1)

Thursday was Thanksgiving. Not that I really need to remind you of that… Anyone who has known loss knows that when you are grieving the holidays can be glaring reminders of the fact that your loved on is no longer by your side. In my last blog, I went into that in more detail… This week, however, I want to tell you about another baby step in my journey. Although, maybe it is a lesson for anyone…

I spent the last nine days visiting my oldest daughter in another country across the Atlantic. Four years ago, she married a young, foreigner and moved to his home. Up until now, I had not been to visit. While Bruce and I loved to travel, we didn’t get there that first year. Then when he died, the idea of traveling that far by myself, seemed too daunting. For so long, just living my life felt like such a battle that I just didn’t have it in me to push myself past my own fears and go.

This year, though, I made the decision to go… I’ve reached a point where I don’t want to live my life only halfway. I was still scared to travel that far alone but I was determined… It was time.

The travel was fine… I asked for help all along the way and people were very kind. My daughter met me at the airport with flowers, a sign, champagne and lots of hugs. (I don’t think we let go of each other the whole time I was there.) Then, three of us spent most of our time together exploring the country by train and on foot. I loved it! It was a great way to learn about this country she calls home and to get to know my son-in-law. (I had only met him the day before they were married, and at that time, we were able to only spend a few very busy days together.)

But what was this “lesson” I mentioned? Well, I need to back up and explain.

Before Bruce died, I was a pretty open and trusting person… willing to trust, love and see the best in people. However, when he died, I lost that. I felt so angry and abandoned… trust was not something that came naturally anymore. (I have recognized that and written about it here quite a bit in an attempt to be honest about my experience.)

However, the last few months have brought about huge changes… positive shifts, if you will, in my attitude and outlook on life. My prayers and focus have been for less grief and an open heart.

On my second day there, the three of us went for an all day hike to one of the country’s castles. It was a beautiful walk through some amazing countryside. We laughed when we finally arrived at the castle gates only to discover it was closed. No worries… It was a beautiful day, and we were having so much fun together. In the spirit of the day, we enjoyed a picnic lunch washed down with some spiced mead in the shadow of the castle.

We decided to try a different route home only to find that while it was gorgeous, it was much more muddy than the first path… In fact, there were quite a few flooded spots. This was no problem for my daughter and her husband – they were wearing water-proof hiking boots. I, however, was only wearing high-top tennis shoes… not water-proof.

The first couple of spots were not a big deal. While we are close in size, my daughter willingly gave me a piggy-back ride across and we kept moving forward. Then, we came to a really big spot. She wasn’t sure she could carry me that far so her husband offered.

I know it’s weird and probably makes NO sense, but I started to get anxious. First of all, I’m not real keen on being picked up… It means giving up control and trusting the other person. That was fine when it was my daughter… I trust her. In fact at this point, I came to realize that other than my children, there aren’t many people I would trust enough to carry me at all… (There was that trust issue – the exact thing I have been trying to move past.)

I argued at first that maybe he was not strong enough. Silly, I know, but the idea of trusting this young man I barely knew was freaking me out. However, my daughter had complete confidence in him, and I had to admit he has always shown himself to be kind and gentle. I was almost in tears, but I had few other options.

This was the point where I had to give up control and trust someone else. I had been praying for an open heart, I just hadn’t realized that making that come true meant I would have to be the one to open it… but I did.

I climbed up on his back and held on for dear life. When we got to the other side and he gently set me back on my feet, I finally explained myself to both of them (through my tears). I can’t explain what happened in that moment between the three of us, but it was precious. He became family… not just my daughter’s husband.

And for me…

I know that my heart is a little more open to others now than it was before that day. I know that I can’t always be in control… there are times when other people are placed in my path so that I can learn to let go, stop trying to do it all alone, and trust them.

That is how we all learn to love again… that is how we all grow… that is how we move forward – not as individuals or even separate groups, but as one humanity – connected and bonded in our love and need for each other.

Have you ever experienced one those pivotal moments? A time when you knew you had a choice to move forward or stay where you were? I would love to hear from you… Please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… your story may the one someone else needs to hear.

NOTE: Due to family time, I have been off schedule for the past two weeks. Thank you for understanding my need to enjoy my precious time with those I love.

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Don’t look too far down the road

Alone
Alone… Is this a test?
I think I am failing.
I want to move past the sadness.
I want to find the blessings.
But every time I come back to
Being alone…
~ Linda, October 1, 2013

I have put off writing this week until the last minute (or what feels like the last minute). It’s not that I don’t know what to say… It’s that I have so much to say and I’m not sure how to say it in a way that makes sense.

This month starts a series of major days and holidays… all in a row – one on top of the next. It starts with Halloween, then moves to our anniversary, Thanksgiving, my birthday, Christmas, New Years and the anniversary of Bruce’s death.

Anyone who has grieved deeply knows how hard the holidays and big events can be when you find yourself alone… no longer able to share those days with the person you have shared your life with for so long. The next few months will be an emotional roller coaster as I go from one event to the next… all without Bruce… for the third time. (Yes, I am still counting.)

The first year I ignored as many of these as possible. It hurt too much to imagine celebrating anything without Bruce. So, I hid and let the world do its thing while I pretended not to notice. You might be surprised but it was actually pretty easy to do. The world starts getting very busy this time of year… Most people don’t really notice when you choose to disappear from the craziness. I’m not sure if that is a good or a bad thing, but it sure helped that first year.

Last year, (my second year alone) I wanted to try to join the world… at least with my kids and my grandson. So, I joined them for as many of these days as possible and spent the rest with friends. The problem for me was the timing of everything… As soon as I got past one event, I had to mentally prepare for the next… There wasn’t a chance to heal or even breathe in between.

It was a relief to be a part of everything and not be alone. However, when it was all done, I was emotionally drained. I later listened to a recording taken at the end of that time period, and I didn’t even sound coherent. I was a mess, but I had done it! I had survived!

Thankfully, time is a kind friend, and this year has brought more healing and a stronger me. At least I thought I was stronger… until this week…
This year as Halloween approaches and the holiday commercials start to air on TV, I am faced once again with an overwhelming relay of events. All week I have had that inner dialogue going… I’m sure you know what I mean…

In my self-development seminars or when coaching individuals, I discuss that inner dialogue… That angel and devil thing we laugh at in cartoons. Why do we laugh? Because we have all experienced it at one time or another. For most of us, though, it isn’t necessarily a temptation thing – a good or evil thing.

Usually it presents itself as one “voice” that sounds more like, “Why bother?” “What’s the point?” “You’ll never be able to do that.” In other words, it is self-defeating. It is based on our fears, negative emotions, and low energy. It is not based in reality. It does not build resilience nor does it move us forward. In fact, it is happiest if we stay where we are or even take a few steps back.

Then, there is the other, kinder “voice.” It is encouraging. It is not based on our fears but on our passions, goals and facts. It is healthy and nurturing. Its purpose is to build resilience and help us move forward… To encourage us to live life – even if it is just one small step at a time.

This week the dialogue battling within me has been one of dreading the upcoming months, while realizing that all I really need to do is take life one day at a time – no more. It is when I try looking too far down the road that I become intimidated and question my ability to make it through.

I remember right after Bruce died… The idea of spending the rest of my life without him – alone – seemed very intimidating. Most days I didn’t even want to try… that road ahead looked never ending. It took me a while to tune out that self-defeating voice and start listening to that kinder, gentler voice that encouraged me to take one small step and then another.

In my family, the women seem live quite a long time so I figure I have another 50+/- years to go… without him. That is a long time. It can be quite daunting when I dwell on it too long. I am learning not to look that far down the road. I am learning to just breathe and take it one day at a time.

I am learning…

That is what I have been telling myself this week. I am still learning. It’s okay if I have a hard day or stumble a little. But I can’t let myself dwell on the upcoming months and everything they entail… That will be too much. It will overwhelm me. It will feel too hard, and I will spiral down.

Other than only taking one small step at a time, I’m not sure yet how I am going to do it. However, I do know, for me, that will be the only way to do this.

Walk through your fears..
~ Linda, October 15, 2013

Because this is our community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… you may hold 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