grieve – Page 36 – Peace, Love & Grief

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

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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… A Tribute: Saying goodbye to my friends

At one point in The Wizard of Oz, Dorothy says, “My! People come and go so quickly here!” I agree! I couldn’t have said it better myself!

I know that people come and go in our lives. I know that is just a part of life and the price of relationships. But I also know… it sucks! Saying goodbye to friends as life moves us forward is just another type of loss… one that almost everyone has gone through at some point in time.

I have spent a lifetime moving – 15 times (so far) to be exact. Believe me when I tell you that saying goodbye is one of my least favorite things. And this past week, that is exactly what I have had to do…

Bruce and I lived in this home for less than 2 years when he passed away. In that time, we knew a few of our immediate neighbors on a first name basis. We would wave and maybe even talk if we were all outside at the same time. In the last month of Bruce’s life, we even went to a few parties with our neighbors. However, we were just beginning to get aquainted… I could never have imagined what these people would come to mean to me in such a short time.

I remember when Bruce passed away, I didn’t even have their phone numbers. I had to send my son to their homes to tell them the news. I didn’t expect anything; I just thought they should know. It felt as if they were at my door immediately, bringing gifts, phone numbers and asking what they could do. I was so surprised.
Since that time, one of these neighbors in particular has become my second family. They have been so wonderful and supportive as I moved through this grief journey. Never once did they tell me what to do or how to feel, but they were always available.

These two people have spent the last 3 years watching out for me as if I were their own. If there was a strange car in the driveway or someone in my yard, they were here in the blink of an eye to find out who and why. They know my kids and welcome them in to their home, as well. (In fact, my grandson calls them his “buddies.”)

When something here was broken or needed to be fixed, they took care of it for me without a word. They watched my pets when I was gone, and (definitely) spoiled them more than I ever would. They taught me how to take care of the plants in my yard, which ignited a love for gardening.

When it was time to go through Bruce’s things, she was the one by my side the whole time. I knew when I was having a hard day and couldn’t even open my door to acknowledge the world, they would notice. They were always quick to see if I needed a hug, or a visit, or a meal.

If a holiday was coming up, they always made sure I had a plan… or assured me that I was welcome to join them. At Halloween, that meant a Chili dinner at their house before the Trick-or-Treaters started coming. This past Easter, they even gave me my very own Easter basket, complete with a chocolate bunny.

These wonderful friends have fed me, listened to me, hugged me, loved me and included me in family celebrations. You name it, they have done it… and everytime they have done it with simple love.

For three years, they have been my solid anchor here at home… my up-close-and-personal support network. When I have felt all alone, I have known without a doubt, I wasn’t – they were only a few steps away. Every Sunday afternoon, I was there… just to chat or spend time with them doing absolutely nothing.

I know this hasn’t been a one-sided friendship. I have “been there” for them, as well. Yet, I can’t help feeling as if the little bit I have done for them is so minimal when compared to all they have added to my life.

A few months ago, while there for my “Sunday visit,” they told me they were moving back “home” to Missouri where they still have siblings, cousins and other extended family. At this point in their life, they know they want to be closer to their family. I get it… I totally understand. This is a good thing for them, and I am happy for them… But for me, I cried.

Last weekend as we said our final goodbyes, I cried again… Actually, I cried a lot. It was the moment I have been dreading since they told they were leaving. I felt like I was five years old again… I told her that if I didn’t hug her, she couldn’t go… Then, I hugged her anyway. In fact, I hugged her so long and so hard, I’m sure she thought I would never let go… and we both cried. Her poor husband had to take her by the hand and physically separate us in order to get out the door.

Saying goodbye to friends is hard. I am sure you understand because it is a loss that most people have experienced at one time or another. For me, this is the first really big (definition: personal) loss since Bruce passed away. While I know we will keep in touch, I also know I will no longer be able to trot across the street on Sunday afternoons to just hang out with people who love me… just as I am.

I know this is a really good move for them… and to that end, I am happy for them. But, for me, this adjustment is going to be hard. Now when I turn the corner onto my street and look in their driveway, it is empty, and my heart breaks.

I love these two people… I will miss their friendship, companionship and all the love they have added to my life.

While I pray that God will bless both our paths as we move forward in this world, I still hate goodbyes.

If you have experienced loss, you have probably been through this, 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 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… 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… What do you do with the stocking?

From what I see in my neighborhood and on Face Book, most of us have already decked our halls… I did mine after I returned from my Thanksgiving trip. Inititally, I wasn’t going to decorate this year. Not to avoid the holiday, it just seems like a huge amount of work, and I’m the only one to see it.

“I’ll just put up the Christmas Village,” I thought. Then, it was the nutcrackers… As I opened each container, I found myself smiling as I remembered Christmases past with Bruce and my kids. It was such a beautiful, bittersweet trip, I ended up decorating after all… But this experience was quite different from last year’s.

That first year, I ignored Christmas, so there was nothing to think about. Last year, though, I thought I was ready until I opened that first container… and there right on top, was Bruce’s stocking… Right where I had packed it after our last Christmas together… A Christmas when I thought we still had the rest of our lives to celebrate this holiday over and over.

Journal Entry – Dec 2, 2014

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

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

Journal Entry – Dec 3, 2014

Hey Babe! Wow! Yesterday was tough. I didn’t leave the house all day… Shoot – I couldn’t stop crying all day. I’m still kind of emotionally tender today, but definitely doing better today. The stocking thing really threw me for a loop. I ended up going on-line and searching. Turns out, my reaction is common… What to do with the stocking throws a lot of us for a loop. There were all kinds of ideas and suggestions. I’m going with the only one that made me smile when I read it. I’m hanging your stocking and placing paper next to it. Then, I am going to write Christmas memories on the paper (as I remember or people send them) and place them in the stocking. I’ve already had three people send memories. : ) It makes me smile. I still cried some, but I managed to finish the decorating. I still wish you were here… you loved all of this… I don’t know about next year, but this will work for this year.

So… What am I doing this year? The same… Bruce’s stocking is right next to mine – where it belongs. The paper is there and I am writing and adding memories as I remember them. This year I wasn’t caught off-guard, and the memories make me smile. I still wish he were here. I probably always will because I still love and miss him.

Over the past few months, gratitude has become a part of my new mantra, so instead of crying over what is lost, I am thankful for what was… for all the wonderful memories of those Christmases past.

And, believe it or not, I find myself looking forward to whatever new memories are waiting to be made.

Have you ever found yourself caught off-guard like this? What did you do? 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… What’s supposed to be and what is…

It still hurts
It’s so quiet here,
And I’m so alone.
I relive so many memories in my mind.
And for a moment, I can smile again.
Then, I breathe and open my eyes…
And once again, I am alone.
This sadness is never ending.
The pain can be unbearable.
Do you hear me when I call out to you?
I feel so horribly alone.
How long will this pain live inside me?
How long will I have to smile, when all I want to do is cry?
I find my self pulling ever further inward…
There is no one to understand.
They are not cruel…
They try… they care.
But they do not know how to comfort me…
They love me…
I love them…
But there is a chasm between them and me…
And another between me and you…
And it all hurts so bad.
~ Linda, November 4, 2015

Fall 2005 – Bruce and I had spent the entire summer together in Michigan. We already knew that we loved each other, but the summer showed us exactly how compatible and connected we were. As the summer ended, I went back to SC to teach. It didn’t take long, though, for us to realize that being apart was not going to work. However, we both had daughters in high school, and wanted to let them graduate before we did anything permanent.

Within a month of being home, I learned that I had lost everything. All the money I had invested with a family “friend” had been embezzled. I had 4 kids to take care of, an ex-husband who refused to pay child support, and a job that I loved but did not pay a livable wage… so without my investments there was not enough income. Bruce never hesitated. He wanted to move ahead with the marriage. I hesitated… I wanted us to get married because it was what WE wanted and WHEN we wanted it. He was quite convincing that it WAS what he wanted. I remember my mother telling me that it was a good thing… my kids would get the experience of witnessing a healthy marriage and having a loving male figure in their lives. For me, there was a knowing that the right thing was to stay on the path of love and happiness we were on… So, 2 weeks later, I agreed… I wanted it too…

There was Bruce… my hero… And he remained my hero from that day forward…

October came. I gave notice at my school, and we started planning for the move to Michigan. It all happened quite quickly. My oldest daughter had already graduated college and my second was away at college. My son was a senior in High School and already eighteen, so he moved in with his best friend’s family for the remainder of the school year. It was just my youngest daughter and I (and our cat) leaving. After two days, we arrived in Michigan late on Halloween night.

On November 9, 2005, (a Wednesday) at 3:30 PM at the county courthouse, Bruce and I were married. Because it all happened so quickly, the only people there were his parents, his daughter and my youngest daughter. I remember that it was a beautiful fall day. Afterward, we went back to the house for champagne and hors d’oeuvres. Then, dinner at a local restaurant. He had taken care of everything… I just had to show up. It was all so simple and so beautiful, and we were ecstatic…

(us immediately after the ceremony)

But…

It was not what we had originally planned. During the summer we had planned a beach wedding with both of our families beside us. Circumstances had changed that. But Bruce, always the hero, told me not to worry. For our ten year anniversary, we would have our beach wedding with everyone from both our families. It would be beautiful, and it would be special…

But that wasn’t meant to be.

This year would have been that tenth anniversary. Sadly, my hero didn’t make it that long.

This is my third anniversary without him, and (I think because it is the current one) it feels like the hardest. All week I have been thinking that I should be laughing… and happy… and planning a ten-year anniversary ceremony. Instead, I have been working hard not to twist reality into something it isn’t… It isn’t a punishment from God… It is just the cycle of life. I have wanted to reach out for help but I feel like I’m asking for more than anyone can handle. After all, it’s been almost 3 years now… How long does this go on?

The reality is losing a spouse is harder than one might think. This is the person you committed to love and share every intimate detail of your life with. So many people equate it with divorce, but it’s not even close. I’ve been divorced. It was hard too, but this is different. There are no choices with death. Also, with death, the relationship isn’t what died – it is only the physical connection that is cut off… the love is still there.

This week I have felt like I am back at square one… back in limbo – going through the motions of life as if I am in a dream – no purpose, no point… Like wondering through a dark house with no one to answer when you call out.

Last year I did a pretty good job celebrating the love we knew and not focusing on the sadness of loss. This year I plan to do the same. I will take a beer and some roses to the beach where Bruce’s ashes were scattered and spend some time with him. Then, I have reservations at the restaurant where we celebrated our last anniversary together.

Bruce was so excited to have found this tiny eclectic restaurant. He wouldn’t tell me where we were going, just that he knew I would love it… and I did. I remember on the way home I asked him if we could celebrate the rest of our anniversaries there. “Of course,” he smiled back… “Every one… from now on.” Two months later he was gone, but I do… I have returned every year to celebrate the love we shared. And every year, the restaurant staff is more than gracious to accommodate me… And I will celebrate “us” every year… from now on.

I am a little sad tonight (a few tears), and I think I will be sad tomorrow but that’s okay. It’s okay to feel what I feel… it is normal to be sad, and I will be okay… Mainly because of a conversation I had a couple of days ago. Someone I know was sharing a loss they had just experienced and stated that the worse part was the confusion and frustration that comes from having no choices in what happened. I would agree… (When Bruce died, I felt so angry and frustrated. I remember I told my friends “don’t let me become a bitter, angry, old woman… that’s not who I am or who I want to be.”)

Long after our conversation had ended, it dawned on me that one of the biggest lessons I’ve learned since Bruce died was born out of the love that we shared. It was Bruce’s legacy, and it is this:

None of us gets to choose what life tosses our way.
Our choice is:
“Can I love more today than yesterday, not despite what has happened,
but because what has happened.”
~ Linda, November 2015

How do you manage your big days? 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… 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… Halloween…

For most of my life (until Bruce died), Christmas was always my favorite holiday. However, the season always started way before December… For me, Halloween has always marked the beginning of a season filled with several holidays, big events and continual fun and excitement with Christmas being the climax. To this day, I am so very thankful for the last holiday season Bruce and I shared.

This weekend was Halloween… As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, it is the start of what has been an emotional roller coaster since Bruce passed. But this year as I prepare for the holiday, I find I can look back and find things that make me smile….

I remember in Michigan, there were no Trick or Treaters. We lived in a second floor condo which required a code to enter the building. There were no children in the building except my (then) teenage daughter and no way for anyone to enter.

When we moved to another state, we lived in an apartment for the first year and with the exception of my grandson and a group of teenagers (who knocked on our door at 10 PM) no one came. Then, we moved to the house where I am now.

I knew there were a lot of children in the neighborhood, so I bought three huge bags of candy and tried to prep Bruce for what was probably coming. All he heard was “candy.” As soon as he realized it was hidden in the house somewhere, it was “game on”… He went hunting, and found it in the third place he looked. (He laughed as he told me that the fact that I am so short narrowed the hiding places down by more than half. Then, he just had to think of where there might be enough space for three huge bags.) Needless to say, by Halloween, I had to replace one of those bags.

That Halloween, he grouched every time the doorbell rang. I laughed and fussed at him for being a crabby, old man. The next year – our last Halloween – was so different, though. He was so excited. He LOVED answering the door and talking to all the kids (even the teenagers). He even jumped out and tried to scare a few. It was such a fun night.

Now looking back, I don’t know if he was just trying to enjoy Halloween or if he knew something was wrong and wanted to leave me with some fun memories. Either way – all I know is it was a such a wonderful night!

The first year without Bruce was a change… a huge change. Actually, it was a challenge that I wasn’t expecting. After all, Halloween is a kid’s holiday. It really isn’t about adults, and in all honestly, we had only had one really fun Halloween together.

But even that first year, according to my journal I recognized that this would be the start of a rough few months…

(Written the morning of 10/31/2013)

“The first of the holidays – this one always feels like the “kick-off” for the holiday season. I don’t really feel like celebrating but I did buy candy.

People don’t get it… they can’t. They can’t because they haven’t been here yet. I feel like everyone has this expectation that I should be a ‘good little widow’ and just be okay… whatever that is! Guess what… I’m not! I’m not okay! My brain doesn’t analyze or function the same way anymore. I don’t feel like “me” anymore.

The weird part is yesterday was actually okay. It was the first day this week I didn’t cry all day. Then I wake up this morning and I just feel pissed. I don’t think this will be a good day… not really looking forward to it – don’t really feel like festivities or anything like it.”

(Written the night of 10/31/2013)

“Halloween without you, Babe! Too hard!! I miss you!! I keep thinking about you answering the door last year and all the fun. This year is hard, though. I am listening to Jimmy Buffet and wishing you were here… Six kids so far and I am crying. Maybe I should just turn out the light and call it a night.
So sad… just so very sad…

What is – is… nothing I do will ever change it. I feel like I shouldn’t be here but I am… maybe one day I will understand why I am still here.

Just so you know, Babe… I went to the neighbor’s for chili and wine earlier tonight. They are so sweet and kind to me. I am blessed to have them here. In case you’re wondering, they are taking good care of me, Babe.”

And now this year…

This year I spent Halloween with my grandson, one of my daughters and my son-in-law.

(Written on Sunday 11/1/2015)

“Hi Babe… This weekend was really good for me. I couldn’t be with you but I was with people I love. I’m sure you would guess that we stayed very busy. Trick or Treating was pushed forward a day early since it was supposed to rain on Saturday. You would have loved watching our grandson… he was more excited about his costume and handing out the candy than actually going door to door to get any (which just cracks me up.) Afterward, there was an impromptu party back at D’s house. It sounds crazy but it was wonderful chaos – the house was filled with very tired but laughing adults and kids too excited to settle down.

Saturday included an Octoberfest at their school/church. You would have loved it – German food and beer. Their German potato salad was good (but not as good as yours!) You would be proud… I only teared up once… when the kids performed their Fall music program. I know you were there… I know you were watching… but I still wish I could have held your hand and seen your face. You and your “Boudreaux” had such a close connection, I know you would have been beaming with pride.

The night ended with a dinner party at a friend’s house. It was fun, and they made me feel so welcome. Usually I feel like a fifth wheel at those things, but I didn’t this time. I can’t say I like it but I am getting (more) used to going to parties without you by my side…

It wasn’t until the wee, dark hours of the night when I was actually alone with my thoughts that the tears fell. My emotions were a mix of melancholy, sadness, loneliness and (believe it or not)… guilt. I miss you so much, Babe, and the idea that I still managed to have fun, leaves me feeling guilty. Crazy, I know but that is what I felt. I wonder if that is normal? I wonder if that will be the emotion I struggle with this year?”

I don’t know the answer to that question, although I would guess it is normal. If there is anyone out there who knows or has been there, I would love to hear from you… I’m sure there are a lot of us that would to hear from you.

In the meantime, I need to breathe… I have 8 days to get myself emotionally prepared for the next big day.

How do YOU manage your big days? 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… 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… 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