Tag: loss

Peace, Love and Grief… Time Moves on But My Heart Doesn’t

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 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 was my perception.) 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; laugh more and live “normally” again. But what I found was after that first year, I still grieved… I still cried, and I still hurt. Life was marching forward, but I still seemed to be out of step with the rest of the world. I tried to laugh more… I tried to live a “normal” life.

But… what was “normal?” How could I live a “normal” life when I still hurt so bad?

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 into 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!”

And three years after he died, I found myself still 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 through 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.”

Even now, as the six-year anniversary of Bruce’s death is on the horizon, I find that I still miss him… and it still hurts… I’ve just gotten better at shoving it down deep when I am with others… Only feeling free to feel what I feel when I am alone (and writing).

In fact, I’ve written about it several times over the past few weeks. I still miss Bruce so much and going through this current challenge without him has been beyond hard. When I am scared or frustrated, I think about how wonderful it would be to feel his arms around me and to hear him whisper in my ear, “It’s going to all be okay.” To feel that I was a priority to someone who loved me unconditionally… To feel that I could cry when I needed to without worrying about being “strong” or being a bother… To be totally and completely honest about my fears…

But, Bruce is gone… Time has moved on. Life has brought (and will continue to bring) more challenges… And I must learn to take each one in stride without Bruce by my side.

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 few 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 am I being punished… In fact, I truly believe, God loves me and has my back.

I know I was blessed… I know I still am. The fact that we had a life together at all was a miracle. But the sad reality is Bruce’s purpose on this earth was completed before mine. (Oh, how I hate it that!) But I have come to understand that my life now is determined by my perspective… And my perspective is my choice…

I know there are still lessons for me to learn (like this current path) and a purpose for me to explore. (Otherwise, I wouldn’t still be here.) But, I also know I don’t have to let go of my love for Bruce in order to do any of those things.

In other words, time does move on… Life moves on… but my heart… well, my heart doesn’t have to…

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Why

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

This has been one of those weeks where I am feeling a little raw. All week, I have been constantly coming back to the original question… Why?

I don’t get it… I am trying to go with the flow… Accept what life throws my way… I smile, I laugh, I cry. I do all the normal things that make up life. But, I still find myself wondering, “why?”

No one around me has lost a spouse. He was so young. Our time together was so short… And we were SO happy… So, why?

I don’t get it. Is my destiny to be alone? Were we never supposed to be? I don’t understand. Our love was so strong, why take it away? I had 23 years with the worst – why only 8 with the best? I don’t understand.

It’s not like I haven’t already dealt with enough hurt. Did this really have to be? We were so happy… so at peace with each other and life as it was.

I see so many others around me who get to enjoy that… why not us?

We met so late in life, but we always thought we had time… more time… Who decided that was all we got?

Life in its cruelty
Gives us the gift of love
But along with it
Comes an hourglass
Counting down the moments
Until it is gone.
~ Linda, Sept 2013

Sometimes it still pisses me off! It still makes me angry… It still hurts…
Why can’t I let go?

That one I can answer… Because I still love him. Because he was everything to me… and I don’t want to let go.

Shoot! I’m so scared of forgetting… forgetting the moments we shared, forgetting his face when he smiled, forgetting the tenderness in his eyes, the touch of his hands, his kiss… What if I forget? … That terrifies me.

Those are the happiest times of my life. Those moments have carried me through so much hell.

I read an article this week about life after cancer. The author talked about how she was still on medication and will be for years. She talked about the frustration with the ongoing side effects which can last for years after the treatments are long over. She talked about the fact that, yes, she is grateful to be alive, but she still grieves for the life she had and will never get back. When people ask how she is, she struggles between being honest versus smiling and saying what they want to hear – that she is fine… grateful to be alive.

I get it… I think anyone who has experienced a major loss, understands all of that. Grief is grief… And being forced into a life you didn’t plan or imagine can be hard.

Most weeks, I can smile and say, “I’m fabulous!” Most weeks, I can appreciate where I have been, where I am, and where I am going.

Last week, I said I was willing to wait. And I am… And I will… But weeks like this, I still don’t understand why… and I still cry for what is gone.

How do I find joy in this,
When you were my joy?
I am sinking on my own.
I know I need to find some
Peace in this;
But all I want to find is you.
How do I reconcile
What I know
With what I feel?
I can’t…
Instead, I smile,
Like a good girl,
Finding neither joy
Nor peace…
Nor you.
~ Linda, October 2013

What about you? Have you or do you still ask – why? Do those original feelings of pain still haunt you at times? I don’t believe I’m alone and you aren’t either… None of us are! Are you willing to share how you handle those days? Or do you still need support in that area? Would you be willing 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.*

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Waiting

“When God sends you the man you are called to be with… you will know. This man will speak to not your flesh, but your spirit. You will experience something with him that you have never experienced before. He will love you in ways that other men didn’t. Wait. It will be so worth it when you meet him.” ~ #NeverSettle @knowyourworthrubies

This week I am preparing for the last leg of this cancer journey – the radiation. I am so ready to be finished… to feel healthy again… to live life again. Yet all week my mind hasn’t been on what is ahead. For whatever reason, my mind is on Bruce.

It seems as if he is always there… right in front of my mind’s eye. While there have been days when I felt I was in this cancer thing alone, there have been more days when I would swear I feel Bruce by my side. And this week has found me remembering every precious moment we shared. But our love goes back further than that, because before there was a Bruce, there was the belief that he was out there.

After my divorce was final, I was pretty sure I was through with men… at least when it came to serious relationships. I dated, but I wasn’t really interested in anything more. After 23 years of abuse and dysfunction, I was not going to risk putting myself back in that situation again.

I can remember my mother telling me, I was wrong. She told me she believed I not only deserved love, but she believed without a doubt that God would send someone to love me. I laughed… She would have to believe enough for both of us, because I wasn’t the least bit interested.

Fast forward a few months to a cruise on a small sailing schooner in the Virgin Islands… and Bruce. It was a whirlwind week… I remember the two of us smiling and laughing constantly. Just a couple of months later, I flew to Michigan. That was when Bruce and I realized what we had was different… It was real… And it was forever.

I can remember Bruce telling me that he had always believed I was out there somewhere, and he had never given up on finding me… Nothing like being made to feel you are the answer to someone’s prayers and dreams.

The next few years passed so fast. I love the memories… the relationships he built with my kids, the healing and love he brought to our family, and the smiles… so many smiles. Even now, I still see those smiles. I can picture his face and that beautiful, beautiful smile whenever our eyes met.

I remember our first kiss… And I remember our last. I remember how it felt to hold his hand… so much bigger than my own that most of the time we couldn’t even interlace our fingers. I remember the surprising gentleness of his touch, always calling him “my gentle giant.” Memories of dancing in the kitchen, sailing on our boat, holding hands on the beach, kayaking in the canal, and so many more… Each moment captured as a precious snapshot in time… Each one bringing both smiles… and tears… Each one triggering a special place in my heart.

Which brings me to the present…

It has been almost six years since Bruce died, and I still miss him… I won’t say I “live” in those memories. No – I live my life… I work, I play, I have my adventures and my ups and downs, just like anyone else. But, I still feel Bruce next to me… Our souls will always be connected… And I live, knowing that one day we will be together again…

“I live for the day when I will see you again, in all God’s glory. We will be together again. We will have healthy, whole bodies and can explore the wonders of heaven together.” ~ Holiday Candle Lighting Ceremony

Thank you, Babe, for showing me love… a love that will endure forever – beyond this life and into the next.

“At night, before I fall asleep, I can see your face, and I can (almost) feel you hold me… I know it’s not real – or is it? Is it possible to miss someone so much, you can still feel them when they’re gone? Sometimes, I can see your smile… and your eyes filled with mischief… or the way you looked at me so tenderly – filled with love… I miss that… I miss you!” ~ Linda, 2018

What about you? Have you or do you hold onto those precious moments in time? Are those memories ever the thing that gets you through that moment? You’re not alone… None of us are! Are you will to share how you came to terms with it? Or do you still need support in that area? Would you be willing 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.*

NOTE: I apologize for posting a day late, and I thank you for your patience. Sometimes on this cancer journey, life doesn’t flow on my schedule. : )

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Choosing Laughter

The sun sets at the end of the day.
The sky is pink.
I am reminded of you…
And I smile.
The full moon rises over the trees.
It lights up the world.
I am reminded of you…
And I smile.
The storm rolls in with its dark clouds.
It puts on a show for the world.
I am reminded of you…
And I smile.
The waves crash onto the beach.
There for a moment and then gone again.
I am reminded of you…
And I smile.
All around me life goes on.
I see you in every flower,
And feel you in the stir of the wind.
Your soul reaches out to me to remember…
I do…
And I smile.
~ Linda, October 2013

I remember when I went through my divorce years ago – things remained extremely tense for such a long time. At one point, my mom sent me a CD of a comedian along with a note telling me I “needed to laugh.” As I put the CD into the player of my car, I shook my head thinking, “She doesn’t get it. My life is falling apart… I don’t think I can laugh anymore.” But as is usually the case, I was wrong, and my mom was right. Within a few short minutes, I was laughing so hard, I could barely breathe! What a great release!

When Bruce passed away, I found myself thinking I would never laugh again… every bit of joy was gone from my life. Once again, someone wiser than me counseled me on the importance of finding some joy each day… Not just something to be grateful for (as I’ve discussed in the past), but something to make me smile… and, yes, maybe even laugh.

I will always remember the first time I laughed after Bruce passed away. We were telling “Bruce Stories,” and before I knew it, I found myself laughing at some of the best memories ever! However, as soon as I realized what I was doing, I stopped short. How could I laugh? My world had fallen apart! What in the world did I have to laugh about?

As time passed, I would find myself laughing at little things such as the sayings of my (then) toddler grandson or a joke on the radio. But each time, I would catch myself… and stop. Those same feelings of “what did I have to laugh about?” kept returning… And so many times, I let it steal my joy.

I’m not sure at what point or even who said it, but somewhere on this path, someone suggested that perhaps I needed to give myself permission to laugh. At about the same time, I started reading one of Bruce’s favorite, “go-to” books, The Importance of Living by Lin Yutang. Within the first few pages, he presents the idea that a sense of humor has the function of not letting us “bump our heads against the stone wall of reality.” In other words, to be wise we need to learn to combine our reality with our dreams and a sense of humor.

This opened a door for me… If this book was Bruce’s “go-to” and these were the ideas of the author… perhaps… just perhaps, Bruce, himself, was trying to tell me that I needed to laugh again. Perhaps by giving myself permission to laugh, I was also giving myself permission to heal.

And so I did…

It started slowly. I started retelling stories and sharing memories of Bruce and I that made me laugh. By starting here, I found that I could honor Bruce’s memory and find my healing through laughter all at the same time. I quickly found that other people who knew him, were more than willing to dive in and share their funny stories as well. In fact, not too long ago, one of Bruce’s high school buddies shared a story of their teenage shenanigans that still makes me laugh every time I read it.

What a blessing! I must say that in the past few years, I have learned to be so thankful for the healing gift of laughter and the balance that a sense of humor can bring to our lives each and every day… no matter what our current reality holds.

“If we don’t pause,
the hardships of the world will slowly de-sensitize us from the simple joys that life has to offer.
Stop and take a breath.
Enjoy the moment without needing the moment to be perfect.
Life is what happens between the cracks of perfection.”
~ Erik Wahl

What about you? Did you or have you ever struggled with the idea of laughing in the face of loss? How did you come to terms with it? Or do you still need support in that area? Would you be willing 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.*

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Thoughts for Today

There have been so many lessons learned on this crazy journey. There have been so many things I was sure of in the beginning, only to realize later how very wrong I was. (Then, again, isn’t that life?)

Five years ago, I was hurting so badly I processed everything through the lense of hurt. I couldn’t understand or make sense of most of the world around me… But I believe that is the way of grief… The pain is so intense, and the ability to process anything outside that pain is close to impossible.

As the years have passed, I have learned to look at things again… Only now, I try to remind myself to pull outside of the hurt, and to process the world around me with love and compassion… The same love and compassion the world has shown me, (even when I didn’t recognize it).

One of the biggest things I have realized is how all loss produces a lot of the same feelings, whether it is the loss of a loved one, a friendship, a job, or my health… Each loss involves grief in a way, and once we recognize that, I believe we are better able to deal with it.

This week has been one of those weeks. It has been my first week after my first chemo treatment…

First of all, my first treatment was on Friday the 13th, and my last treatment will be on 9/11. Now, that is either the start of a suspense novel or some really, creepy foreshadowing! (I’ve had to talk myself out of being a little freaked out about this one a few times.) Seriously, though, this whole cancer thing has brought back a lot of the same emotions (albeit on a smaller scale), which I dealt with years ago when Bruce died.

One of the biggest emotions I dealt with this week was my inclination to push people away. Why do I do that?? I need the support… and I know the people around me love me.

However, here is my honest confession…

When Bruce died, people didn’t always respond the way I expected, and in my pain, I took it personally. One of the biggest mistakes I made was thinking people knew what I needed. They didn’t, of course! How could they?? But there was enough information out there saying, “Don’t ask the person grieving to ask for help – just do it.” Never mind that the people around me weren’t reading this – I was. Yet somehow, I held them accountable… It all sounds so ridiculous now, and thankfully, the people around me loved me through this in spite of myself.

So, this week, when I found myself at the mercy of the toxins floating around in my body, I have also found myself in need of help. That is a hard one for me… I don’t mind helping others but asking for help is another story.

I can’t even begin to tell you the number of people who have said, “Let me know if you need anything… Anything at all. I am here for you.” And even though they mean, do you think I have asked? Rarely… So then, I had to ask myself why…

At first, I found myself back in the same old mindset of “I can’t ask you; just do it.” Then, I came to my senses and fussed at myself for being so unfair… They do care… They mean it… I can’t put my issues at their feet; I have to own those myself.

So, what is the issue?? I don’t know. I haven’t figured that part out. Even when the people around me are helping, I feel so overwhelmed with guilt. I hate the idea that my health issues have placed an extra burden on someone else. Yet, they keep telling me it is okay… They don’t mind… That is love… That is something I haven’t minded giving to others, but to accept it from someone involves trust…

Maybe that is my issue. Maybe I am scared to love and trust… and possibly be hurt again…

Since I am crying as I write this, I am guessing that is my answer… My own fears of feeling all that pain again is what has created this. And maybe that is why I find myself in a place where I have to ask for help… They say there are some life lessons you are destined to encounter over and over until you actually learn it…

Maybe this is mine… Learning to trust life enough to accept the love around me… So, to all those who are by my side through this – Thank you… And I love you!

Everyone deals with loss, grief and life in their own way. How we handle the pain and deal with he challenges in our journey is different for each of us. As for me, I am still learning, and all I can do is pray for the peace and strength to make through each day.

Does any of this sound familiar to you? If so, would you be willing to share your story with us? There may be someone out there who needs to hear exactly what you have to say…

If you are struggling with grief, loss, loneliness, please know you are not alone – We are here. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. * Who knows… your story may the answer for someone else.

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Looking for Signs

“Well, that’s it. You see what you want to see, and you hear what you want to hear.” ~ Harry Nilsson, The Point

When Bruce died, I read and heard about so many people who received signs from the people they had lost. Since it didn’t seem to be everyone, I figured, who knows… Maybe Harry Nilsson got it right… Maybe we see what we choose to see or ignore what we choose to ignore. As for me… I was hoping for signs… Even to this day, I continually look for signs from Bruce… And he has sent them. Signs that he is here. Signs things will be okay. Signs that let me know I am not alone.

One of the first signs I recognized was pelicans…

I have always loved pelicans. They are a symbol of sacrificial love and are often seen depicted in churches. After Bruce’s memorial, I was awestruck as a flock of 21 pelicans flew overhead. In that moment, it seemed so right… A great reminder of Bruce’s love – unconditional and sacrificial – never one to put himself first. Even today, whenever I see a pelican, I find myself whispering, “I love you too, Babe.”

Other signs have included objects (with some significance to Bruce and I) being moved. (I’m a bit picky about where things belong, so I definitely notice when something is moved.) For example, a friend gave me a worry doll after Bruce passed away. It lays on my bedside table in front of my lamp. One morning when I awoke, it was missing. I looked on the floor, but it wasn’t there. A few hours later, as I sat down to write in my journal, I found it. It had moved across the room, onto my desk. It was sitting in the center of a palm-frond Cherokee rose given to me by Bruce when we were on a vacation in SC.

Another sign involved our foosball table. Bruce and I loved playing foosball. Whenever we played, he always flipped his men nearest his goal, so he wouldn’t block himself, if he took a shot. When Bruce died, I was alone… I wasn’t playing foosball. As I mentioned, I am a bit particular, so I would always make sure the men were lined up precisely. I can’t even begin to count the number of times I would walk by the table to find his men flipped upside down in “true Bruce fashion.” (Granted, now I have an 8-year-old little boy in the house, so I no longer pay attention to the foosball men.)

Then of course, there was the butterfly dream when this whole cancer thing first started. Because of that dream, butterflies have come to symbolize Bruce’s presence and guidance throughout this ordeal…

I live in a small town. While we have a cancer center, my care there was not instilling confidence or trust. My questions were not being answered. Instead, I was consistently told, “This is how we treat all cancer here. Just do it.” But that didn’t work for me… I’ve done my homework, and I know there are different treatment options out there. Breast cancer is not a cookie cutter disease with one cookie cutter treatment.

So, the more I was dismissed, the more I dug in my heels. Finally, a saint within the system recognized my frustration, and I was given a referral to a (very large) breast cancer clinic just a few hours away.

As we walked into the first building 2 weeks ago, my sister nudged me and pointed… There on the wall was a mural of butterflies larger than me. I smiled. Maybe this was a sign… It sure felt like it. We took the elevator upstairs to the breast clinic. There on the wall was a metal sculpture of hundreds of butterflies. At that point, I knew this was where I needed to be… This is where I could relax in the hands of doctors who would treat me with the latest knowledge, treatments… and respect.

Sure enough… my questions have all been answered. I have been given options… And my choices have not been second guessed. But that’s not all…

This past week, we were there for my pre-surgery work-up. I walked into the hotel room feeling apprehensive and a bit sad – still wishing more than anything, that Bruce were here beside me. I put down my bags and looked around. There on the wall was a beautiful painting of a pelican… A whispered, “Thank you, Babe… I love you too,” instantly escaped my lips.

And while I know I won’t be able to feel Bruce physically beside me tomorrow, I still know, without a doubt, he is here… And in my heart, I know I am where I am supposed to be, because he sent me here.

While everyone deals with loss, grief and life in their own way, sometimes new trauma is that much harder to handle simply because those we loved are no longer beside us… It can feel lonely and overwhelming. However, being open to the signs that our loved ones are still with us, can have a miraculous affect on our outlook. These were my thoughts and reactions this week as I prepare to undergo surgery and the follow-up treatments. Maybe something in this feels familiar… Perhaps you too have experienced something similar. If so, we are here, you are not alone.

If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. * Who knows… your story may the answer for someone else.

Quick Note: I am not sure how this next week will play out, and if I will be able to post next week. Please know that I will do my best to be here. Thank you for your good thoughts, prayers and positive vibes as I prepare to “fight the good fight!”

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Happy Birthday to You!

Before Bruce died, we always spent his birthday week with his folks on the Gulf Coast. He didn’t like parties or being the center of attention, so it was a great way to celebrate his birthday – just some chill time by the ocean surrounded by people he loved.

Once we moved to Florida, we started driving (versus flying) and would split the trip into two days. Bruce found this quaint, little hotel on the Apalachicola River where we loved to stay. The hotel was built on pilings and literally sat on the river. It was absolutely magical, and we loved it there!

This year as I was planning where to go for his birthday, I knew that was the spot… That was where I wanted to go. But, to save my life, I couldn’t remember the name of the hotel, so I went on a hunt. It didn’t take too long – just a couple of evenings on the internet… And I made my reservations.

As this week approached (with everything else going on), I began to worry… What if it wasn’t how I remembered? What if I got there and the memories were too much? I almost talked myself out of going… Almost… but not entirely.

I couldn’t remember the exact route Bruce would take to drive there. (I’m ashamed to say) I was never the one driving so I never paid attention to road names or the towns we passed through. But, I knew he didn’t take the direct route… He always took the back roads… So, Google could not be my navigator. I remembered the ocean was only feet from the road… For me, this part of the ride was as much a part of the experience as anything else. So, I went on line and just started looking at maps… (WOW! Who uses those anymore… LOL!) And I found it!

Then on Thursday, with my hand-written directions, some snacks and my luggage, I set off for my “Bruce’s Birthday Adventure”…

And it was fabulous!!

This river-front hotel and this small fishing town have not changed a lick! I was able to enjoy the most peaceful, quiet few days celebrating and remembering the man I love… The man who changed my life…

Hi, Babe! Happy Birthday! Just watching the magic of the sunrise on this precious day. I can’t believe the beauty surrounding me this morning. It’s as if the world took all that is you – all the love, strength, acceptance, joy and compassion – and made them physical within this sunrise… This daily miracle, which is mostly ignored. It started dark and quiet. Now, we are at first light, and life is waking up on the river. I can feel you here beside me – a smile on your face and coffee in your hand. : ) Quiet and strong, like the river at my feet. Life is so hectic lately, but it is in these quiet moments where I find my bearings. I’m not sure how this whole cancer thing is going to go – so far it is a chaotic mess. But, if I can manage to find these beautiful still moments with you along the way. I know I’ll be okay… I’ll manage through “whatever” as long as I can still feel you. I still love you so much. Today is yours and yet it feels like a gift to me… The day my angel landed in this world – soon to walk by my side and hold me in his arms… Even if it was only a brief moment in time, it was our moment… And it is where my heart remains.
~ Linda, April 2018

As I checked out to head home, the woman said, “Hope to you again next year!” Hmmm… Will I come back next year? Honestly, I don’t know… but I know it is where I was meant to be this year… And I have found a peace here that I desperately needed as I face the storm ahead.

Celebrating the lives of our loved ones seems to be an important part of this journey. I have to deal with Bruce’s death (I can’t avoid that part) but I want to focus on his life, because that holds everything good about him… That is where he loved us and where he made a difference. I know each of us remembers our loved ones differently – in our own way and in our own time. Today’s blog is simply my way of celebrating Bruce this year. Maybe this feels familiar… If so, we are here, you are not alone. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. *

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

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… When I Miss You the Most

Why are you gone?
Why aren’t you here?
The lions are here…
Where are you?
I can’t do this!
I don’t have what it takes!
I don’t!
I’m scared!
The lions are circling,
And I don’t have the strength to fight them…
Not again… It’s too much…
Help me, Babe…
Show me I’m not alone.
~ Linda, February 2015

If I am honest, I have to say I always miss Bruce. There isn’t a day when he doesn’t cross my mind in some fashion. Even in casual conversations, I find myself either thinking of a related “Bruce story” or what he would think of the topic at hand. I can’t help it… It is as natural to me as breathing… Although, I believe I am better about not saying these things as often as I think of them. (Mainly, because there are a lot more people in my world now who never knew Bruce.)

However, I also must admit, there are definitely times when I miss Bruce more than other times. Usually those times involve facing something that feels scary and/or overwhelming… It’s then that I miss the safety of his arms… I miss falling into those arms, having him hold me close and tell me it’s all going to be okay. I miss his confidence in life, and his ability to maintain a steady calm no matter what we were facing.

This week has been one of those weeks…

I have “lions” to face, and to be honest, I am scared. I know I have to be strong and maintain that “steady calm,” but I don’t feel it…

They say there are lessons we each must learn in this life. And, if we don’t learn them the first time, we are bound to face similar situations over and over until we do learn. For me, I have felt that lesson has been the one of trusting life… In fact, I have written about it several times here. I am constantly being reminded that the river doesn’t try to move the rocks; it simply flows around them.

Yet, each time I see those rocks in the path ahead, I find myself starting to panic just a bit. Each time, I find myself missing Bruce and the strength that just seemed radiate from him. I find myself thinking I just can’t do this without him – not this time.

As I said, this week has been one of those weeks… I can see the rocks in the path ahead. I don’t feel strong… I don’t feel calm… I know I can’t move the rocks, and I know I must move forward.

Fear is fighting a reality I can’t change.
~ Linda, October 2013

But, in the middle of my fear, Bruce sent me a sign… Thursday night I had a dream. In my dream, Bruce had built a metal sculpture of a butterfly. It was beautiful and covered with crystals and gems. Then, he put on some music, and the butterfly came to life and flew all around me. When the music ended, he picked up the now still sculpture, placed it in my hands, and kissed me. Then, I woke up.

Am I still scared? Yes… And I would give anything to have Bruce here beside me through this. However, it seems that whenever I find myself facing the “lions” (or the “rocks”), Bruce finds a way to remind me, I am not alone and no matter what happens…

It is still going to be alright…

Everyone deals with loss and grief in their own way. For each of us, learning to live with our grief and deal with the ever-changing circumstances life throws our way can be an overwhelming lesson. I know each of us will do it in our own way and in our own time. Today’s blog is simply my thoughts and how I keep trying to move forward on this path. Maybe this feels familiar… Perhaps you too have struggled with learning to live with your grief. If so, we are here, you are not alone. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. *

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

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Time to Cry

People ask me if I still cry…
I wake up in the morning with only your picture next to me…
And I cry.
As I get dressed, I think of how you would come in each morning and kiss me good-by…
And I cry.
At work, people make comments about my grief and pain. I smile at them and try to remember that they have no idea what they are saying…
And I cry.
I come home to an empty house and spend the evening alone…
And I cry.
I crawl into our big empty bed alone – no one to hold me; no one to kiss me…
And I cry.
So, when people ask if I still cry, I say – Not all the time, but sometimes…
I still cry.
~ Linda, January 2014

It’s been over 4 years since I wrote that… And, yes, I still cry… Not as often and not publicly but yes, I do.

I remember when this journey first started. I read so many things which said the pain would subside, or the grief was compared to an open wound that would later feel more like a scar. I disagree… I haven’t found that to be true at all.

It still hurts… I still cry… I still miss Bruce as much today as I did years ago. The difference isn’t in the pain – the pain is still here. The difference is in how I have learned to live with the pain. In the beginning, I couldn’t control it… It controlled me. It has taken me years to learn to turn that around.

At first, I didn’t understand this new aspect of my life or how to live with it. It was so foreign and surreal. It was made up of everything from my worst nightmares. I just kept thinking it would go away… If I could just find a list of all the things I needed to do to make it better, I could “get over this.” I just knew that was the answer.

But there is no such list, … and so I struggled. I struggled because I couldn’t predict when a wave of grief would hit. I struggled because when a wave did hit me, I couldn’t control the tears. I struggled because I felt judged by people around me (which was really only one or two people, but in my head, it felt like a lot more).

At one point, I remember reading about a woman who would “give” herself a specific time each day to cry. At the time, I thought, “That’s silly. I never know when I’m going to cry… How can I say I’m going to cry at a certain time each day?” However, as time has passed, I have found myself doing exactly that… And I don’t think I’m the only one.

This week as I was looking at some journaling ideas for grief, one was “When do you cry?” I know that can go in a couple of directions… For example, when do you cry (what triggers it)? OR when do you cry (what time of the day)? I have had to look at this question both ways.
When I was first on this journey, I had to figure out the first question…

Figuring out the things that could trigger my grief was my first step to learning how to control it. For a while, I would avoid those things (or try), but as I have gotten stronger, I have learned to handle those triggers as they come.

This is where I have learned to appreciate the timing piece… the “when do I let it go” part… As time has passed, I have learned to allow myself some time and space each day to let it go… Journaling has probably been the biggest God-send for me. I have stacks and stacks of journals filled with my feelings – the anger, sadness, and loneliness. All of the overwhelming feelings associated with grief are there as raw, wounded and honest as I felt them in the moment.

Because I only write in my journal at a certain time each day, I started to learn how to hang onto those feelings until I was ready to write. And as I write, the tears flow, and I let them… I don’t try to stop them… That is my time to let it go… It is my time each day to grieve and feel no guilt or shame.

I believe when you lose someone you love… someone who was your whole world, your grief will always be a part of your life. I don’t believe it changes from an open wound to a scar… I believe it is more about learning to live with your grief – learning to control it versus letting it control you. It isn’t easy, but it is doable…

So, yes, I still cry… Do you?

Everyone deals with loss and grief in their own way. For each of us, learning to live with our grief can be an overwhelming lesson. I know each of will do it in our own way and in our own time. Today’s blog is simply my thoughts and how I have moved forward on this path. Maybe this feels familiar… Perhaps you too have struggled with learning to live with your grief. If so, we are here, you are not alone. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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