grieve – Page 39 – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love and Grief… Celebrating Bruce

They say angels live among us… I believe that, because I was blessed to hold one in my arms…

Thursday, January 12… This was the 4th anniversary of Bruce’s death. I spent weeks dreading this day, while knowing there was no way to avoid it. For me, this day can never again be “just another day.” Plus, I am determined that he will not be forgotten, so I have built traditions around this day… which helps… These traditions leave me feeling that I have done something to honor this wonderful man who changed my whole world.

In past years, I have either spent this day completely in the company of others or entirely alone. This year, however, I found good a balance… some time with others and some time alone (with Bruce).

Three of us started the day in true “Bruce” style with a breakfast at Waffle House. From there, I went my own way to spend a few precious hours honoring Bruce my own way. Back at home, I lit candles and recited a few traditional prayers, as well as some prayers from Bruce’s Ash Ceremony years ago,…

“We cannot see, but we know, although the road ascends and passes from our sight, that there will be no night. We know that You have taken Bruce gently by the hand and now lead him along the road of life that never ends, and he will find it is not death but dawn. We do not doubt that You will hold him dear. We thank You for the faith that frees us, the love that knows it cannot lose its own and looking through the shadows, sees that You, Bruce and all who love him are always one.” ~ Prayer from Ash Ceremony

Then, I spent some quiet time, writing in my journal. With the business of the holidays, I found myself pushing my journaling time to the side. So, these few quiet moments were precious… To be able to sit in silence and get inside my own head for a while felt wonderful…

“Hi Babe! … How I wish you were still here! … How am I supposed to do this? How am I supposed to do another year without you? I miss you so much! I need you… Today is four years… Four years ago today, I was facing my first day as a widow… my first day alone. I was in so much shock. I didn’t quite know what to do with myself. The reality of what your death would really mean… what life would be like alone had not sunk in… It couldn’t until I experienced it. Now I sit here, looking back and looking ahead, and I feel lonely still. I love the memories – the fun we had, the twinkle in your eyes when you were teasing, the touches as we passed, laying in your arms as we slept or made love – each moment a sweet expression of our love and passion for each other… I miss it all!” ~ Linda, January 12, 2017

Afterward, I headed to the beach where Bruce’s ashes were scattered. With me, I took a Bali flower basket to place into the surf for Bruce… (And a little rum to share.) The baskets represent “giving back what has been given to you,”… And Bruce gave me so much. To make it personal, Bruce’s basket held flowers from both the store and the garden I planted in his honor, charms to represent Bruce – what he loved and his life’s attitude, a letter from me to him, incense to carry my prayers for Bruce to heaven and a few of his favorite quotes. I spent the next few hours (with Bruce) at the beach… remembering, laughing, crying… and sharing a little rum. It probably sounds so simple, but it was such precious time.

The next part of my remembrance brought me back home to work on the prayer flags. These flags are a Tibetan tradition made of brightly colored cloth and decorated with positive symbols and/or quotes. The flags are hung outside, where tradition holds that as the wind blows through them, the prayers and positive energy are carried throughout the world… Blessing all of us.

To start, I took down what remained of last year’s flags and burned them. This way their prayers and positive energy would still be carried on the wind throughout the world. Next, I hung this year’s flags which were painted and designed by several family members and me. The end result is absolutely beautiful and (as a blessing for me) hangs just outside my bedroom window. Now, each morning when I open my blinds, I am reminded of all the good Bruce brought into this world, and how his legacy goes on and on.

The next part of my day was new this year. However, because nature was in charge, I’m not sure it can become a yearly tradition. Let me back up and explain… My daughter, grandson and I have been working the past few months to help the Monarch butterfly population which is struggling. We planted milkweed for them, and had caterpillars almost right away. However, those first few caterpillars were quickly eaten by local wasps. With the second group of caterpillars, we decided to bring all six inside to see if we could raise their odds of survival. This meant replacing the milkweed leaves inside their butterfly cage every few hours to accommodate their voracious appetites, but it proved worthwhile.

On this special day, my grandson and I were blessed to release the first three butterflies in Bruce’s honor… It felt so right, as we watched them hesitate on our fingers before flying away… A beautiful reminder of the English proverb, “Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly.” Such a simple creature… Yet such a beautiful symbol of courage and new life…

As night fell, we ended the day with one of Bruce’s specialties – something he loved to cook, and I (still) love to eat – cornbread and a bowl of Gumbo.

What a day! It was beautiful and memorable from start to finish… It all felt so right – filled with love and memories of the man who forever changed my world…

I love you, Babe… Always and forever!

“Now the work is left to us, his family, to carry forth the beauty and joy of that life which has been taken from us. Where we weep, Bruce would have us laugh. Where we mourn, Bruce would have us rejoice. But we know he will forgive us our grief, for to grieve is to love, to love is to cherish, and to cherish is to give praise and thanksgiving for the life which has blessed us all.” ~ Prayer from Ash Ceremony

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 the loss of Bruce easier to handle, 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 be 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… Facing the anniversary of “that” day

Some days the pain is so great.
Some days it is too much.
But still I must put a smile on my face
And walk out to face the world.
I must pretend all is well.
But inside…
The pain is too much…
Too much…
~ Linda, Sept 2013

This week I am struggling. I can feel myself spiraling downward. In just a few short days, it will be “that day.” The anniversary of the day Bruce died… The day my world imploded in one quick moment. Already, I find myself feeling like I have been thrown back four years. All the pain and loneliness closing in, and I have no place “safe” to go…

I can still remember that night like it was yesterday… Waking up to find Bruce struggling to breathe… calling 911… doing CPR on the man I love terrified by what was happening. I remember the doctor coming in to tell me Bruce was gone… spending time with Bruce as we waiting for the medical examiner – touching him and begging him to open his eyes. I remember that last kiss good-bye that he never felt. I remember going home to an empty house and making phone calls to family and friends… But most of all, I remember being alone… totally and completely alone.

Here I am four years later, and despite having family here, when it comes to my grief and this week’s journey, I still feel completely alone. It’s no one’s fault, except maybe my own… the closer I get to “that” date, the more I find myself pulling inward and away from everyone around me.

I don’t want to face this anniversary again. I don’t want to “do” another year without Bruce!

Last night I had a dream… I dreamed Bruce and I were on the beach. It was beautiful, and we were so happy. Then, suddenly he was just gone! I kept looking everywhere for him. I was crying and felt so desperate, but he was nowhere to be found. I kept thinking I saw him. But each time when I touched the person and they turned to face me,… it wasn’t him. Then, my daughter appeared and started helping me look. She kept saying it would be okay… We would find him… But we didn’t – He was gone… I was completely devastated and woke up in tears.

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

I know I am spiraling down this week. Nowadays I don’t usually give myself this much space to grieve, but this week I need it. However, I am walking a fine line because I also need to keep my head above water… and that is hard.

Earlier this week, my grandson and I were having a conversation. He was telling me that he was praying for something specific for his Mommy. I struggled here, not wanting him to think of God as a magic genie or to be disappointed if the answer to that prayer is “no.” I tried to explain that God’s answer may be “no,” but we need to have faith that he has something better in store. We need to ask, but then we need to let go and be willing to accept something different… something better in the long run.

But, here was my struggle with the whole conversation… It has been four long years since I lost Bruce. I have worked through a lot of emotions. I have been angry with God and made my peace… Yet, in spite of all I “know,” in spite of all my “good” days, I still grieve for Bruce at some point every day. He brought so much good and happiness into my world, and I miss him. I still want him back… So, do I trust that there is something “better” in store? Do I believe the very thing I am telling my grandson to believe?

I want to… but if I am honest, I don’t know…

I believe God (the universe or whatever name you choose to use) loves me. I believe there is some good to be found even in this loss… I have learned to be stronger that I ever thought possible. I have learned a lot about who I am as a person and my desire to serve others. I have struggled with my faith and came out on the other side with a much stronger faith that is completely mine. I have learned to be more accepting of others, their beliefs and their struggles. I have learned that people are what are truly important in this world… not just some of us, but all of us. I know that until we learn to love and respect each other and all our differences, this world will never find peace.

I guess I am saying, in the quiet of the last four years, I have been reflecting… and growing and changing… which is good. But, I learned all this at what cost? Did I really have to lose Bruce to learn these lessons? That is the part I struggle with… The idea that I don’t know… In fact, I’ll never know…

I just know I am sad this week… more so than usual. It will be four years on Thursday, and no matter what I have learned or what good I can find, I do know I would give it all back to have Bruce back again.

Another year alone;
A year of tears;
A year where no one cares.

Another year of smiling when I feel like crying.
A year of telling everyone it’s all okay.
A year when I feel abandoned.

Another year of going to bed alone.
A year of coming home to nothing.
A year without hugs or smiles.

Another year without love.
A year without laughter.
A year without you, Babe…
It feels like a lifetime.
~ Linda, Jan 2014

What about you? What have been your struggles when “that” anniversary approaches? Have you been able to find the good? Would you say the price of that “good” was too high? 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

Peace, Love and Grief… Decorating and grief

Note: Just moments before posting my blog last week, we had a “milk meets computer” incident. Thank you for your patience as we worked to get back up and running this week.

For anyone grieving, the holidays are tough… They just are. I wish I could share some great “tricks” to help you through this time, but honestly, there are none.

The first year, (as I’ve told you before), I completely ignored the holiday. I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t do it. There were some who tried to push the holiday on me by inviting me over to surprise me with their decorations and music… That didn’t work. In fact, it only upset me more. There were others who tried the guilt approach by reminding me that the holiday is based on faith, and is not about me or Bruce at all. While true, it is still a holiday with traditions built around those we love, so this didn’t work either. In fact, it actually just made me question my faith.

The bottom line was – I wasn’t ready. Grief is one of those things that is different for everyone. We each need to go at it in our own way… and in our own time. While I knew this in my gut, it was difficult to express it in such a way that others could understand.

The next year was slightly different… I felt braver… I wanted to participate in Christmas. I remember…

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 had picked; how much you loved all the treats 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.”

It was hard that year, but I figured it out – I did hang both stockings. Beside Bruce’s, I placed a small box of paper and a pen. I used these to write down special memories of our Christmases together, and placed these in his stocking.

For me, this really helped. In fact, this has become my tradition. It means a lot to me to see his stocking still hanging there beside mine. In fact, I think it is the most active stocking hanging there.

Each year since Bruce passed has brought challenges of their own. It is always a moment by moment holiday – half survival… half celebration.

This year, however, has brought a new grief to the picture…

This year I have been blessed with a house full, as one of my daughters and my grandson now live with me. Last weekend we managed to set up the stockings, the Christmas china, several nativity sets, the Christmas village, and the tree with lights (but no decorations). It has been a festive week filled with laughter and music.

I’ve loved it. However, I’ve still had my private moments of tears… Of overwhelming memories and those moments when I know he would have loved spending this holiday with his little Boudreaux. For me this seems to always result in tears and missing Bruce down to my very core.

This weekend as we started to decorate the tree, grief reared its head again, but this time it was my grandson’s grief. As we pulled out ornaments, he wanted to hear the stories behind each one. He smiled and laughed and hung them on the tree… so excited. Until…

About halfway through the box, he pulled out an ornament with three snowmen – a Mommy, a Daddy and a baby – and under each one were their names… Just last Christmas, they had still been a family. As he held the ornament in his hands, his eyes filled with tears. Then, still clutching the ornament, he threw himself into his mother’s arms and wept.

He has only recently come to realize that divorce is forever… This has been a hard fact for him to accept. In fact, I believe he has only just started the real grief for the loss of his family as he knew it… And just like anyone grieving, he has a mix of emotions, which can be overwhelming for a little boy, especially at a moment like this.

On this particular night we held him and listened… simply listened as he cried and told us how he felt.

Then he asked if he could still hang that ornament because he loved the way it reminded him of his “old” family. I thought of Bruce’s stocking hanging just a few feet away for the very same reason… Then, my daughter and I looked at each other and without hesitation agreed.

In the days since that night, he has taken that ornament down, held it, cried and rehung it several times. It is his way of grieving this holiday… and just as I learned with my own grief…

We all have to go at it in our own way and in our own time… I still need to hang Bruce’s stocking and my grandson needs to hold an ornament… and that’s okay.

If you are struggling this holiday season, please be kind to yourself. Do what you feel is right for you… and simply let the rest go.

If you are struggling with celebrating the holidays after your loss, please let us all be there for you. If you have any ideas that have helped you through the holidays, please share them here for others. This is our community… Let’s reach out and be the compassion we each seek.

To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

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

Peace, Love and Grief… How I deal with a “family” holiday

“Trauma creates change you don’t choose.

Healing is about creating change you do choose.“

~ Michelle Rosenthall

Thanksgiving is one of those holidays that in my mind is a “family” holiday. It has always been a holiday where family comes together and the day is centered on playing, the sharing of stories, laughter and love. As a child, my family always spent the day at one of my grandparents’ homes. I loved playing with my cousins and listening to the grown-ups talk.

In my first marriage, we lived too far away from either of our families, so the day was spent with friends and strangers who would have otherwise spent the day alone. Everyone pitched in and the day was spent sharing what we had… food, stories and friendships.

When Bruce and I were married, I loved Thanksgiving! Because we were in Michigan, we usually spent the day with his family… until we moved to Florida. However even then, we always managed to have someone in the family with us for Thanksgiving… even if only for a few hours.

However, when Bruce died everything changed…

The first year I couldn’t bring myself to celebrate anything. I didn’t feel thankful. I was still hurting too much. The idea of celebrating a “family” holiday, when the person I love was gone was more than I could handle. I wasn’t interested… Just the mere idea of the day hurt.

So instead, I ignored the holiday completely. I spent the day at a theme park with my youngest daughter and her friend. Most of the day is a blur… But it created the distraction I needed, while still allowing me to spend time with someone I love.

The next year, I was still hurting but there were things I was thankful for… especially my family. It felt right to celebrate the day again. This was the year I spent most holidays with my second daughter and grandson’s family. The effect of that little Bubba on my healing was (and is) amazing.

Last year, the third year, I traveled to merry old England to spend the holiday with my oldest daughter and her husband. A first it seemed so odd to celebrate Thanksgiving in a country that does not share this holiday. Yet, it soon became fun as everyone else seemed eager to pitch in… They were so curious and more than happy to help us find all the “traditional foods” we needed for our feast.

This year was different… It was my fourth Thanksgiving without Bruce, yet it was most like the first. That probably seems a little strange since now I have a home once again filled with love and people. However, this was my daughter’s first year without her son (my grandson). He had left the weekend before to spend the holiday with his father. This was a first for all of us. It felt strange and wrong… There was definite grieving for a family (and a tradition) gone.

While we knew we could have still had a “traditional” meal, we both felt the day would have been too empty without our little Bubba. So, we left as well, and spent the holiday at the beach… Instead of turkey and stuffing, we feasted on meat, cheese, bread and wine. Instead of a room filled with family, there were two of us…

There were tears and a bit of sadness… I missed Bruce… and I missed having that little guy to make me smile… to give us hugs and tell us that he loves our little family. However, all was not lost… There was also relaxation, great conversation, laughter… and the knowledge that we would be a family again in just a few short days.

That day was yesterday. How happy we were (and are) to be together again… Things feel right today with this little Bubba filling the house with his endless love. In fact, the only thing still missing is Bruce…

This year was my fourth Thanksgiving without him… my love, my Bruce. I would love to be able to say that it has gotten easier through the years, but that would be a lie. It is still just as hard. I still miss him… I still cry and grieve for him… The only difference seems to be the tools I have learned to help me through this grief…

And many of those tools I learned from my littlest Bubba – His innocent love of life reminds me that life goes on… And it is up to me to find those things worth celebrating.

What about you? Did you or have you struggled with celebrating the holidays after your 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

Peace, Love and Grief… More than words

My theme for 2016 has been “Growing in love, spirit and purpose,” and this week has been a reminder of that… A week of deciding if I mean what I say or if those are just words.

All week I have had several things going on… (Who hasn’t?) The biggest one was watching my grandson struggle with a challenge while I felt helpless as one of the adults in his life to help. So many things in his life have changed this year and all of it is completely out of his control… It is all happening to him and he has had no choice in any of it. As a consequence, he has gone through all the same emotions I have experienced as he grieves for what was. (Sound familiar?)

This week, he was facing a two hour plane ride to spend the holiday week away from his Mom… All of this for the first time. As the trip approached, the tears and anger increased. We spent many evenings with him in my lap as I rocked him and simply listened. As the week continued and the emotions increased, we realized that getting him onto that plane was going to be a challenge… So his mother and I made a small (albeit significant change)… We changed our focus with the hope that he might follow our lead.

Every time the tears or anger started, we still held him tight. We still listened. However, at other times, when emotions were calmer, we would talk about the good things… We changed our focus to the positives – the people he would see and the fun things he would do during his week away or the excitement of a plane trip without a grownup to monitor the Cola intake.

Before heading out to the airport, we held hands and prayed over this brave little Bubba… And by the time, he needed to walk onto that plane alone, while he was still scared, he wasn’t crying. We gave each other big hugs and watched as he bravely walked down the gangway… alone.

I wish we had recorded the call that came just a few short hours later… He had done it! He was so excited and so proud of himself. At that point, it dawned on me that we had done for him, exactly what I talk about here all the time…

We didn’t stop my grandson from being sad or scared… Those are valid emotions that need to be recognized and acknowledged. However, when we let that be the focus, he seemed to spiral further and further down. (The exact same thing that happens to me when I let myself get too focused on my grief.) Instead, we offered him another choice… the choice to also look at the positive things… and it worked.

“They” say that God gives us lessons to learn in life, and if we fail to learn them the first time, they will continue to pop up in our life. For me, this idea of controlling my focus… of choosing my attitude has been a perpetual lesson over the last few years. Finding the balance between acknowledging my emotions without letting them take over my whole attitude has been a constant challenge. I’m not sure, but maybe watching someone else struggle with the same thing and being able to help him, was another way of learning the same lesson again.

But that wasn’t the end…

My other challenge this week was the actions of others versus my own expectations of them. Several times this week, I reached out to the people around me thinking I could count on them only to find I was wrong. Each time I reached out and made myself vulnerable to someone else the other person tossed it back in my face… Each time I was hurt… Each time I cried… not sure why they responded the way they had.

That was my second lesson this week… The one that makes me come to terms with why I do the things I do. My first response this week was “never again.” However, it didn’t take long for me to realize that when I do whatever I do, it needs to be because I believe it is right… not because of any preconceived response. Whether I get the response I want or not, I need to do what I believe is right… Perhaps that is my other lesson.

I’m not sure why these have been my lessons or why. What I do know is that I need to do what I believe is right… This is my mantra – to “Grow in spirit, love and purpose”… To serve others in whatever way I can…

To use the divine energy within myself to become a divine reality for someone else by simply being the love and acceptance I am seeking from the world around me…

To make my mantra more than mere words… to live what I say I believe… to make it my way of life.

What about you? Did you or have you struggled with reaching out to others in their pain? How did you manage that? 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

Peace, Love and Grief… Happy anniversary… Then and now…

Note: This week I celebrated my and Bruce’s wedding anniversary. Instead of my regular style blog, I thought I would simply share my thoughts and celebration from that day… Hopefully, you can relate to some part of it…

This morning I woke up half crying and half excited… It is a weird feeling. All week I have been listening to some of our favorite music, and the memories have been flooding back… each one bringing a smile that just as quickly turns to tears.

Some of the memories I have not thought about for years. Yet, they almost surprise me with the vividness of colors, smells and emotions… The distinct memories of looking into Bruce’s gentle eyes and always seeing nothing but love.

Remembering everything from the first moment until the last… The way he would tilt his head and smile when he was up to no good, or how he would always reach out to touch me whenever we were close. The way he would come up from behind, hug me and kiss that special spot on the side of my neck, and then peek over my shoulder to see what I was doing… Which by that point my legs had turned to jello, and I was usually melting into his hug.

I remember the day we were married… Going out to lunch together, but both of us were too nervous and excited to eat anything. Then, heading back home to get ready. I remember waiting our turn at the courthouse… Bruce was so anxious (and so was I to be honest). He kept going and checking to see “how much longer” while his Dad tried to lighten the mood by making us all laugh. Then at 3:45 PM, it was finally our turn… It all happened so fast! Afterward, we were both so happy we couldn’t let go of each other. Even at dinner, we both held on to each other… and simply smiled.

I remember sitting with Bruce and gazing into the fire… so excited about everything our future had to offer simply because we were together…

I remember each and every anniversary through the years. Bruce always had a way of making each one special…

Move ahead to this year… Despite what others may think, I still take the day off… I still celebrate our love… Only now, I do it alone…

Hi Babe! Happy anniversary… #11. Wow! My third without you…My third filled with tears. I thought our “happily ever after” would really be forever… but here I am… alone – without you. All week I’ve been listening to Kenny Chesney’s Blue Rocking Chair CD. Remember that one? We both bought it when we came back from the islands after we met. It reminded us both of that magical week. : ) … It still does. All week, I’ve been remembering so many precious, precious moments from our short time together… (I’d give anything to start over and do it all again)… I miss us!

I remember our first conversation on the boat at the bar, our first kiss at Duffy’s Love Shack (when you said I should have slapped you!), my first trip to Michigan and yours to SC, your proposal on the tower at our beach, the move to Michigan (when my youngest was so angry with us both) and our wedding day… You planned every detail, and it was perfect! Just a few of the people we love and us… champagne and nibbles at the condo. Then, dinner at Timbers. You even made sure we had a table by the fire (especially for me). I remember the two of us just sitting there gazing into the fire, unable to let go of each other – not quite able to believe we were really married… no more good-byes… or so we thought.

Our years together were so beautiful. I still can’t believe it ended so soon. I have to be careful how much I let myself dwell on it, because it can still bring me down. It still makes me so angry that you’re gone. Damn it! It’s not right! You’re supposed to be here… beside me… holding me… loving me. I still miss you so much. It’s almost been four years apart. How can that be? How can my heart still be so attached to yours? I love you… always and forever, Babe!
~ Linda’s journal, November 2016

I started the morning with Bruce watching the sunrise over the very beach where we spent so much time and where his ashes were scattered. The sunrise was the most beautiful I have ever seen. There was every shade of orange, yellow, pink, red and purple… It was impossible to tell where the sky ended and the ocean began… Such a magical way to start the day together. I brought Bruce some roses, rum : ) and a card. (Yes, I still do all the “normal” anniversary things.) It took me a quite a while to find just the right card, but I finally did… It read, “There’s nothing I’ll ever want more than another year of you… Unless it’s another year of us.” (So true!)

Inside the card, I wrote, “… I would give anything for another moment with you… You are always on my mind… Thank you for the gift of fun, laughter, great conversations, acceptance… and especially your love! That is a gift I will always treasure…”

I spent the rest of the day celebrating and remembering… I went to our favorite restaurant for lunch. In fact, this has become such a tradition that the staff always remembers me and makes it such a special meal. They always manage to find that perfect balance between leaving me to my memories and spending time with me so I don’t feel abandoned or completely alone.

For dinner, I had the special honor of celebrating with our grandson at one of Bruce’s favorite seafood spots in town. Then, to end the day… a bit of champagne and a Jimmy Buffet dance party. This seems to have become a tradition to every “Bruce” celebration, but I should probably explain this part a little…

Bruce and I have so many fun memories of parrothead tailgating and concerts… But my sweetest memories are of coming home in mid-winter to find the heat turned up, Bruce in his swim trunks, island concoctions made and Jimmy Buffet playing on the stereo. Then, the rest of the night would be spent dancing barefoot in the kitchen, laughing and simply loving life…

This is the man I love… this is the love we share… and… This is how I celebrated that love this year…

Happy anniversary, Babe! I can’t wait to feel your arms around me again one day… I love you… always and forever!

What about you? How do you celebrate those special days in your life now? Or do you 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

Peace, Love and Grief… Some things still hurt… That is just the way it is.

There are a few things in life, I wouldn’t wish on anyone… Some I used to say in humor to relieve the stress, such as a colicky baby. With other things, I am completely serious… One of the things that I really wouldn’t wish on anyone is the loss of your soulmate.

Dealing with that these last few years has taught me a lot about people, patience with others… and heartbreak. I have also come to realize this time of year for me, from October 31 through January 12, is the hardest. During this time, there are a lot of important dates filled with precious memories.

It is a season where time moves forward whether I am ready or not… I must go from one holiday or momentous occasion to another… It is like being knocked to the ground and before I can get back on my feet, I am knocked down again.
It starts with Halloween. From there, we move to my and Bruce’s wedding anniversary, Thanksgiving, my birthday, the anniversary of the day we met, Christmas, New Year’s eve/day and the anniversary of Bruce’s death.

I know to brace myself, because before I can catch my breath from one event, the next one is upon me. If I am honest, what I would really like to do is crawl in bed, pull the covers over my head and cry for 2.5 months… but I don’t have that option. I have responsibilities, and life moves on whether I am ready or not.

So over time, my method of survival has been to take a deep breath, draw on my strength, pull my emotions inward… and try to avoid talking about it because that will bring uncontrollable tears. Don’t get me wrong, I do allow myself the time to cry, but I try to hold that for when I am alone… The problem is I am not always successful.

The first year most people understood that these days would be emotional triggers for me and were very empathetic. Now, however, as I go through this for the fourth time, most people (although not everyone) have lost any sense of patience or compassion. The idea that I could still be grieving seems foreign to them. On the one hand, I know they really have no frame of reference, and I can’t change that. On my end though, it just makes the whole thing hurt worse.

For example, there are two days I know to make plans to take off from the world… Our anniversary and the anniversary of Bruce’s death. These are the hardest for me… My emotions are unpredictable from moment to moment… I know that so I choose to be alone and do whatever is needed to bring me comfort and get through the day.

This year is no different. I made my plans months ago… Anyone who knows me well is aware, whether they agree or not. This year, however, other people in my life have things they want me to do. Weeks ago when it was first mentioned (and while I was less emotional), I explained that I already had plans and why.

This week, however, it came up again. I must admit I was already feeling a bit emotional and now I was caught a bit off guard. I quietly restated that I wouldn’t be there. However, there were other people present who questioned why, so I had to explain myself again. My goal was to be succinct and not go into too much detail, but I could feel the tears starting to form in my eyes as I spoke.

This week it all seems a bit harder to talk about… This week I was more emotional… This week was the start of “the season.” I managed to get through Halloween on Monday – Bruce’s favorite time for innocent teasing with the children at the door (not to mention the candy he denied eating). Then this next week, I will face our anniversary – A day I thought we would celebrate together for many years to come.

So this second explanation was much more quiet… And in the frustration of trying to hold back the emotion, I became a flustered. I doubt my explanation made much sense, but I prayed that would be the end of it… We’ve discussed it twice, after all.

But, no. It came up again… Several times actually. I don’t believe any of it was meant to be cruel or to cause me more pain. However, each time it came up I was thrown off guard and found myself trying to defend something I know no one can truly understand if they have never experienced it.

I can’t even remember what I said each time… I only remember feeling the tears filling my eyes as I mumbled an apology, prayed this would be the last conversation about it and waited for the conversation to just move on…

Throughout the week, I found myself going back and forth between feeling understood versus defending my feelings and the need to be alone. It was like being on a roller coaster while trying to balance to staying in control of my emotions.

I heard everything from “We do understand… I can’t imagine how hard it is to find your soulmate and then to lose them without any warning.” to various versions of “why” questioning. I also heard phrases that felt like a cross between “I’m trying to understand” versus “Get over it already.” For example, “You will be fine… There will be no tears ‘that’ day,” and “We understand, but if you want to reconsider that would be okay too… But if you don’t, we won’t say anything.”

Seriously? It has been brought up several times… I don’t feel like anyone understands… While it hasn’t been said outright, I feel like the world keeps telling me, “It has been 4 years. Get over it already and move on”… but I can’t.

I wish I could help others understand it’s not as easy as they think… It’s not a switch that I can turn on and off… Maybe I should be over it, (I know it’s been almost 4 years), but I’m not… I still love him… I miss him… I still hurt…

And that is the bottom line…

While I am hurt by a lot of the conversations this week, I’m not angry. (That is a big sign of growth for me.) Of the two of us, I am the only one that knows both sides of this coin. For others, I know it must be hard when there is no reference point… when someone has never lost the person they loved beyond anything else… The person they thought they would spend the rest of their life with… I understand their need to give “objective” advice… They mean well… They want to help…

However, what I wish they could understand is…

If you really want to help, just walk beside me for while… Cry with me on my hard days and celebrate with me on my good days… That will go a lot farther toward healing than anything else…

What about you? Did you or have you struggled with feeling judged after your 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

Peace, Love and Grief… Who I am

I know I am not who I was;
But I’m not sure I am.
~ Linda, October 2016

For decades, scientists have argued the heredity vs environment theories. Today, most will acknowledge that it is a bit of both. If you had siblings or multiple children, you also most likely agree. Sharing the same DNA does not mean replica children. It is also our experiences that help shape and mold us. They seem to add the details in our life’s tapestry that significantly affect who we become.

In other words, who we are is fluid based on our experiences. Once we have experienced something, we cannot UN-see or UN-hear it… We cannot UN-experience it. So by nature, each experience creates constant change and growth in each of us.

I believe most of us would agree… There is not a lot to argue… or ponder… Until those big experiences knock us off our feet. Then there is a lot to think about…

After my first marriage ended, I realized that I had spent my whole adult life (up to that point) not being myself… Out of fear, I became whatever was needed in any given moment not to anger my first husband. As a consequence, I had lost any idea of myself and who I was. It took several years of being alone to rediscover who I was and have enough confidence to just be me around others.

By the time I met Bruce, I was pretty comfortable with myself. I was still healing, but at the same time, I was learning how to enjoy life and laugh again. Bruce’s unconditional love and acceptance, however, went a long way to helping me love life again… life with him.

With the love we shared, life changed again… It was filled with all the “normal” marriage and family things, but this time our love for each other was at the core of all of it. During this short time together, we both grew… but we grew together.

No matter how bad things appeared on the surface… issues with our kids, money, job loss, moves, or anything else that life threw our way… the central theme was “We love each other, and we can get through this together.”

I had never experienced that before… The idea that I wasn’t alone or on the defensive was new… and wonderful! I must tell you, I flourished. I stopped acting out of fear and learned to be totally comfortable with being me. It was such a freeing way to live. Maybe it sounds crazy, but the connection and acceptance of each other was so strong during this time together, I felt whole or the first time.

Then it all changed…

Bruce died. It felt like the ground beneath my feet crumbled away, as I fell into an abyss. It was lonely and dark… I was lost.

Losing your soulmate feels like your soul has been ripped out;
Leaving nothing but a shell.
A shell that breathes and moves,
But feels no hope…
not anymore.
~Linda, October 2013

Now it is three years later, and I am doing better. I am still sad, but no longer despondent. I am slowly learning how to me… without Bruce… one person – no longer “two as one.”

As time passes, I am noticing ways I am different now… some changes are small and others are pretty big. For example, I am much more quiet than I used to be. I used to talk to everyone, (which was how I met Bruce). Now, while I don’t avoid talking, and I will smile and nod – maybe even say a “hello” – but it takes a lot for me to actually start a conversation. I enjoy life, and I have learned to laugh again, but I am also quite content to be alone – lost in my own thoughts. As a former music and drama teacher, I used to be completely comfortable entertaining, singing or being in front of a crowd. Now, I content to sit back and observe… and I only sing when it is along with the radio, and I am alone.

But, I think the biggest change for me has been trust. I used to trust everyone… until they gave me multiple reasons not to. When Bruce died that all changed.
So many people made empty promises, others just disappeared and still others actually took advantage or tried to take advantage of my situation for their own gain. While none of these will be a surprise to any other widow(er), I was caught completely by surprise. It even reached a point where I didn’t even trust God anymore.

However, through journaling, meditation and studying the books Bruce read, I am learning to trust God/life again. I learning to trust that things will work out the way they should in their own time. Grief has changed me immensely, and I am still learning who I am now. I know I will never be that person I was; I am different now.

But I guess, through this experience I am learning to be who I am meant to be…

New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings…
~ Lao Tzu

What about you? Did you or have you struggled with figuring out who you are after your 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

Peace, Love and Grief… Never good at goodbye

“All I could think about was how you were taken away
and now our house…
our space was going to be taken too.”
~ Linda, Oct 2016

From our first goodbye to this past weekend, I have never been good at saying goodbye to Bruce… And I’m not sure I ever will…

Bruce and I met on a small sailing schooner in the Virgin Islands. We had a beautiful week in paradise and seemed to connect from the moment we met. On the last night of the cruise, reality sunk in, (aka – I got scared), and I told him it wasn’t going anywhere… I said my first goodbye. Then I cried the whole way home. I couldn’t do it. Inside I knew I was walking away from the best thing that had ever happened to me. I knew “goodbye” was not what I really wanted.

My first goodbye and already, I knew I couldn’t do it.

As soon as I arrived back home, I emailed Bruce and asked if he could forgive me enough to at least be friends. Six weeks later, we both knew it was a lot more than a friendship… This was going to be forever.

On my first trip to Michigan, I remember seeing his smiling face as I hurried down the passageway in the airport to the best hug (and kiss) ever! It was a wonderful weekend… like something out of a fairy tale. However, the idea of leaving and saying goodbye, started the flow of silent tears from the moment I awoke on the last day… and as I looked at Bruce, I caught him wiping his own eyes more than a few times. At the airport, we both sat silently holding on to each until the last possible moment… Yes, we were that couple. Then, once again, I found myself crying quietly on a dark plane all the way home.

Our second goodbye, and again, I knew this was the part of our relationship I hated.

The next few months found us taking turns flying back and forth between Michigan and South Carolina. Each trip started with the same total joy of being together again and ended with the same complete sadness at saying goodbye.

During the summer of that year, we planned for me to go to Michigan so we could spend those months together. Since I was driving (and in order to spend as much time together as possible), Bruce flew to SC and drove back up with me. At the end of the summer, the idea of goodbye was overwhelming for both of us. As we rode back to SC, we both got more and more quiet the further south we drove. The idea of another tear filled goodbye was even harder after so many months of being together.

It seemed like the stronger our relationship, the deeper our love and the harder it was to say goodbye.

I remember after several months, Bruce’s Dad asked us how long we thought we could keep this up… How long until we quit saying goodbye and got married? I will always remember Bruce’s answer… “Until it gets so hard to say goodbye, we just can’t do it anymore.” Prophetically, that ended up being our reality less then six weeks later.

Once that decision was made, things moved fast. Within less than a month plans were made for a move to Michigan and a small, quiet wedding. The weekend before the move, Bruce flew down to help with last minute move preparations. It was an exciting weekend for both of us, knowing that the endless cycle of “goodbyes” would soon be over. It’s funny, but even then… even knowing that we were about to be together for the rest of forever, it was still hard to say goodbye at the end of the weekend… Even knowing we would see each other in just a few short days, neither of us could say goodbye without tears.

For the next few years, Bruce and I rarely spent a night apart. In fact, even saying goodbye on workday mornings resulted in long hugs. How in the world were we to know how short this time together would be… and a final goodbye would come all to soon?

But it did come… in a breath… in the middle of the night… Bruce’s heart stopped and nothing I (or anyone else) could do would bring him back. I remember being allowed to stay with him until the Medical Examiner came to pick him up. I remember touching his face, holding his hand, kissing his forehead… knowing it would be the last time.

When the time finally came, with tears pouring down my face, I said goodbye… for the last time.

However, as most of you know from reading this blog, accepting the idea that that was really our final goodbye has been a struggle for me. I find myself, even now 3+ years later, still half-expecting him to walk back through our door… I still feel his presence next to me… And I still find myself “talking” to him. (I know it probably sounds crazy… unless you have been where I am.)

Up until this past week, I thought I had said all of my goodbyes to Bruce.

However, as one family out of thousands living on the Florida Atlantic coast, we were facing a category 4 Hurricane Matthew. In Florida, the only mandatory evacuations were on the barrier islands… However, even our area was expecting a 9 -11 foot storm surge, so we made the decision to evacuate as well.

So after hauling everything from the yard and porches into the garage and putting up the hurricane shutters, I found myself face to face with another goodbye… Goodbye to our home… The space Bruce and I had shared… It seemed so unreal. I had already lost the man I love… the man who still owns my heart… and now I had to face the fact that this space we had shared, might very well be taken too. It seemed so wrong. As we loaded the cars and headed west, I held onto Bruce’s jacket (one of the few things I chose to bring along) and cried.

Once again, even though I thought I had made so much progress, I found I was still no good at saying goodbye.

But, God is good… three days later, we returned to find not a thing wrong with our home. The landscaping needed some work and everything needed to be put back in its place, but we were spared… We were blessed…

And… I have learned that I may never be good at saying goodbye to Bruce… and maybe that’s okay.

Note: I would like to thank each of you for your prayers and good thoughts over the last week as my family and I dealt with Hurricane Matthew.

What about you? Did you (or do you) struggle with saying goodbye after your loss? How do you handle 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

Peace, Love and Grief… More questions than answers

Either you can see God in all things or
you can see God in no things.
~ Fr. Richard Rohr

When we can still see God (use whatever name you choose) in all things, we are better equipped to have hope, see choices and keep trying. It is when we can no longer see or feel God anywhere that we run out of options… and hope. It is a hard place to be. In my job, we sometimes deal with people whose family members have have been there… Unable to see any other option, they chose to end their own lives. It is absolutely heart wrenching to help the surviving family members work through this one piece of the “business” of death. I don’t think I have ever gotten through one of these encounters without crying a few tears myself.

In my own small “world,” I have been pretty sheltered. Whenever I hear of someone who has committed suicide, it has always been an acquaintance – never a close friend or family member. Still, it always makes me pause and cry… both for the family left to grieve and wonder how it ever came to this and for the person whose pain was so deep they felt this was the only choice left.

This week I received word that a classmate from high school died… Even more sad, he had committed suicide. I was shocked when I first heard. In fact, every time I think about it, it still makes me sad. I can’t imagine the depth of his despair…

I know after Bruce died, there were times when I was so sad and low… so completely lonely. I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of my life without him… alone… There were many times when I wondered why I was still here. What purpose did I serve now? My life seemed to be an endless cycle of waking, working, eating and sleeping… Only to do it all over again the next day… alone. It all seemed so pointless.

I can remember saying endless prayers asking God to just let me die, too. After all, I reasoned, no one needed me anyone. I remember begging Bruce to come back and “get me.” I was definitely at the lowest point I have ever been. I believe some of us (especially widows and widowers) have been there at one time or another in our grief. However, the difference is – we are still here… Somehow, we managed to find a way back out of that darkness.

The idea that not everyone is able to find their way out of that darkness is hard to accept.

I have heard some people say it is a “sin,” while others call it “selfish.” I can’t say I agree with either of those views. I don’t believe it is that simple. Besides, both of those ideas are completely unfair. They both blame the victim, and allow the rest of us to wash our hands and walk away with a clean conscience. That’s ridiculous! Why in the world do we feel the need to blame anyone?

Why can’t we admit there may not be an answer to such a tragedy… Why can’t we look at what has occurred, realize we may not have caused it; we may not have been aware of it; and we may not have been able to stop it?

At the same time, maybe we could also take a moment to realize the part we all play in each others’ lives… our responsibility to simply care… to simply be the love and acceptance we all seek from the world around us. Maybe then, through simple gestures of caring, we can make a difference…

What is suicide?
Is it the sudden taking of one’s own life?
Is it that simple?
Is it the slow denial that something is wrong?
Is it depression so deep that you feel your very soul is gone?
Is the real death emotional and the physical act is just the ending punctuation?
Is it a rejection of one’s circumstances?
Or is it because one has been rejected by circumstances?
Is it an ending or a fresh start in a better place?
Is it a choice or does one feel that there is no choice?
Is it a selfish act or a desperate attempt to escape one’s own demons?
Is it a rejection of society or is it a response to society’s rejection?
I do not know the answer… but I have known those feelings.
While we are not responsible for the actions of those around us,
We do have a responsibility to those around us.
We can reach out, hold a hand or give a hug.
We can listen. We can be a friend.
What is suicide?
It is a cry in the darkness…
Are you listening?
~ Linda, September 2013

What about you? Did you or have you struggled with fear after your 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