widower – Page 39 – Peace, Love & Grief

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

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

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

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

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

That brings me to this year…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and still wishing this was just a very bad dream…

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

the way I remember.

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

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

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

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Old Year’s Night/New Year’s Eve

Where we’ve been and where we’re going… That is what the transition between December 31 and January 1 represents for so many of us. For those of us dealing with loss, it also means preparing for the reality of another year without our loved one(s).

In fact, even with my life moving in a more positive direction, I still miss and love Bruce. I still find myself wishing for “what was” instead of “what is.’ My journal entry for December 31 states it best:

Hi Babe! As I prepare to face another year without you next to me, I struggle. I miss you so much it still hurts – physically as much as emotionally. There is still a huge part of me that can’t believe you are gone (even after 3 years). There are so many sweet memories and I am so thankful for those. I, also, know your spirit will always be with me… will always be a part of me, but it’s not the same. I miss you! I would still give anything to have you here – physically beside me… I still love you so much!

So this week, while I find myself facing the beginning of 2016, I have looked back in order to decide how best to move forward.

Before Bruce, I was never really one for resolutions or parties. Even after we were married, the New Year wasn’t really anything significant for either of us. Honestly, with the exception our first two and the last New Year’s Eve, we didn’t really make a big deal of the Old Year/New Year thing. The first two, we spent in the Virgin Islands… The first was New Year’s Eve on board the ship where we met. (I wrote about that last week.) The second was Old Year’s Night at Foxy’s on Jost van Dyke. (Same cruise, only this time it was our honeymoon.)

Our last New Year’s Eve together was spent at a neighbor’s party. Bruce had worked late and had to work again the next day, so I thought he wouldn’t want to go. However, when he came home, he insisted he wanted to go. So, we agreed to go for about an hour. To my surprise (and delight), once we were there Bruce insisted we were having too much fun to leave. We laughed and danced together all night. Now, I have the most precious memories of that night – holding each other, laughing, dancing… not a care in the world – simply being present in the moment and loving it. To top it off the next morning, Bruce did something he never did… He called out to work and stayed home to “spend the first day of the new year with his ‘wifey'” (me). This simple gesture left me feeling so honored and loved.

The next year was my first year without Bruce. It was the year I did not celebrate anything. My son and I had rented a yacht in Key West to “escape” Christmas and returned home early that evening. My neighbor insisted that we come to his party again, but it wasn’t the same… not for me. My heart just wasn’t in it. The last thing I felt like doing was celebrating the start of a New Year without Bruce.

Jump ahead to last year… I met up with a childhood friend, I had not seen in over 30+ years. We spent the evening reminiscing about the past and talking about the present. Several things came up in conversation that night that changed 2015 into a positive year for me. Two of those things have stood out for me as the biggest game changers this year.

First, my friend suggested I write this blog about loss and grief… “Tell the real story,” he said. The real story – including the pain, the hurt, the awkwardness, the struggles, the things that are said (that shouldn’t be), the things left unsaid, the surprises… everything.

Why? Because as a society, we really don’t talk about death or grief. We have let Hollywood “romanticize” it, if you will, and that is way off base from the reality. My intention and hope was (and is) to be honest and build a space where anyone dealing with loss and grief can realize that their experience is “normal” even if it isn’t the “Hollywood” version… And most important – to feel safe sharing their experiences, as well.

Second, my friend suggested a “theme” for the year versus a resolution. Why not a resolution? According to research, 93% of resolutions are abandoned within the first month. Why is that? Because we tend to make our resolutions based on what we “perceive” we should do (lose weight, exercise more, etc) versus what we have an inner drive or passion to do. In other words, working toward our life’s purpose… And for me that meant sharing my experience with others with the hope of helping.

So 2015 became my year of “Celebration, Creation and Contribution.”

This mantra played out in so many ways for me… I Celebrated (really celebrated – not just observed) every holiday, including the anniversary of Bruce’s death. (You’ll hear about that later this month.)

I have always been a Creative person, but when Bruce died I put most of that aside. It seemed to take everything in me just to keep breathing. However, this year, I made the decision to change that… I started painting, playing piano and singing again. I even started writing (despite being told all my life I am “not a writer.”) In fact, thinking creatively has given me the confidence to look past the “good” opinions of other people. This, in turn, has opened so many opportunities for me.

And finally, Contribution… This was the year to be vulnerable – to pull outside of myself and do something for others. Refusing to stay focused on my own situation was hard at first. I had to “fake it till I made it” for a good portion of the year. But a few months ago, it actually clicked… it became heartfelt. I love the things that I can do to help others, especially life/development coaching and this blog. Contributing to the world around me has taught me to love and accept everyone around me… to send peace and love where before I might have responded with judgment or anger.

My thought from the beginning has been: if I could help even one other person, then it would be worthwhile. From the messages I receive, it appears that this year of Celebration, Creation and Contribution has made a difference in at least a few lives. In truth, though, even if it hadn’t, I know it made a huge difference in my own life. I have learned firsthand that focusing on myself causes me to be stagnant or spiral down… feeling alone and abandoned. But when I focus on someone else’s needs instead of my own, we can move forward together and connected.

What about you? What one small decision or change can you make to move forward? If you are on the healing side of grief, what did you do to move forward?

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

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… The Best Christmas Present

The year was 2004. The day was December 26. I will always remember this as the day I received the best Christmas gift ever. My son and I were off on what I thought was to be a week-long adventure to the Virgin Islands. This adventure, however, lasted much longer than a week… It changed my life.

We flew from SC to St. Thomas and boarded an old sailing schooner christened The Legacy. (If I had been writing a novel, I could not have added better foreshadowing, for the legacy Bruce left is what continues to shape my life.) We were all given a Rum Punch, ushered into the dining room and given forms to fill out for the different ports we would visit.

There were several people at our table. The crewman, in his haste, dropped off a pile of forms for all of us but no pens or pencils. As a teacher (at the time), I always carried a handful of pens and pencils. So, I quickly pulled them out of my backpack and started offering them to the people seated around me.

As fate would have it, Bruce was seated right next to me. He declined, however, and pulled out his own pen. In fact, as the rest of us joked and talked, he sat quietly and filled out his forms – listening but not really taking part in the banter. “Too bad,” I remember thinking. No matter, though… it was a very small ship and within just a few hours we ran into each other again.

It was a magical week for me… the beauty of the islands, time with my son and this new person who made me smile without even trying. The connection between us was so easy and natural. By the end of the week, even the other passengers were taking notice and making comments.

One of these comments was spoken directly to us the last night of the cruise, New Year’s Eve. Someone casually walked by and said, “You two seem to really have something… don’t let it go.” (That threw me a bit,… I hadn’t thought that far ahead.)

Bruce, however, not only took it in stride, he looked me in the eye and added, “They’re right. There is something pretty amazing between us. I don’t want to lose it.” I was shocked… terrified, actually. I had just spent 20 years in a violent marriage and another 3.5 fighting for a divorce. All I wanted was peace in my life… The last thing I was looking for was another relationship.

So, true to my (old) form, I ran away.

Not literally… In reality, I was not nearly so dramatic. I just excused myself and went back to my cabin. However, the next morning, as everyone was preparing to disembark, I told Bruce it wasn’t going to work. I remember many of the excuses I blurted out: “I had fought too long and too hard to be on my own to give it up again.” “We were too different.” “We lived too far apart.” And on and on…

He didn’t argue. True to his own nature, he gave me a gentle kiss and quietly walked away. (Later he was to tell me that he spent a few extra days in St. Thomas watching The Legacy at port. He said he just kept thinking if it was meant to be, it would work out… and he was hoping it was meant to be.) I, however, cried all the way home… somehow I knew I had just walked away from the best thing that had ever happened to me.

But the story (as you know) doesn’t end there.

I sent Bruce an email almost as soon as we were home, told him I had really enjoyed our time together and asked if we could be friends. I added that if I didn’t hear back from him, I understood and would always treasure our week together. Jump ahead 1 month and I was flying to Michigan to see if this thing between us was real or just a ship-board romance… By the end of the weekend, we both knew this was a forever thing. Jump ahead 10 more months and we were married.

Bruce opened up my life like a flower in spring. I experienced real, unconditional love. I learned how a healthy man functions and what a healthy marriage really is. Throughout our marriage, I grew in so many ways. Some of the biggest changes were my self-esteem, my self-confidence and (biggest of all) learning to trust. I loved Bruce with every part of my being and told him daily that he was my hero and the best Christmas present I had ever received.

When Bruce passed away on January 12, 2013, my world went dark. It was completely unexpected, and I found myself thrown backwards emotionally. It was as if all those things I learned with Bruce were gone… my self-esteem, my confidence and my ability to trust… all gone. Not only could I not move forward, I seemed to be spiraling down further and further as time passed.

But that is still not the end of the story…

Even after all those years together, there was still so much about Bruce I didn’t know or understand. I had always recognized that Bruce had an inner peaceful quality that I didn’t have. There wasn’t much that could shake him… he just seemed to take life in stride. Whenever I was stressed or worried, he would remind me that “the river never tries to move the rocks… it just flows around them.” At the time, I used to roll my eyes and tell him he didn’t get it. He would just smile and hug me.

As I found myself at my lowest point, I could hear him repeating this phrase in my mind… and I must say, the rocks in my river were feeling more like boulders. I decided I wanted to know more… I had to know more. So, I have spent the last couple of years, learning about my husband and what made him tick. I have listened to the lectures he listened to; I have read the books he read… And I have come to truly understand the man I married and love.

This past year, I have started traveling down the path Bruce made for me… his legacy for me. My life is once again moving forward in a positive direction because of Bruce. So here I am, as I write this blog on December 26, 2015 – the anniversary of the day we met – knowing without a doubt that I was right all along…

He really was the best Christmas present ever.

This link below is to a song that describes it best. It was the last song we danced to on Christmas Night 2012, just a few short weeks before he passed.

When we lose someone, our lives change drastically. The aspects they added to our life seem to be gone forever. But as time passes, we can learn to pull the best of those aspects into our own lives.

Have you ever felt that way? What did you do? Would you be willing to share your story or thoughts? To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Learning to sing again

Music has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. At four years old, I was started singing in our church’s children’s choir. At seven, I started piano lessons. In middle school, band was added to the agenda, and in High School I added singing competitively and musicals to a world I loved.

In truth, music was my outlet. It was how I worked through my emotions. As a teenager, I would play out my emotional highs and lows on the piano, and as an adult, I would utilize either the piano or singing. Whatever I was feeling, music was a safe place to express myself.

This love for music extended into my adult life. My kids and music were my life. I taught music in a small parochial school, directed show choirs, directed childrens’ choirs, sang in adult choirs, was a member of the Director’s Guild, sang as cantor at our church and taught voice and piano lessons.

When Bruce and I married, I moved to Michigan. This meant a change in my job, but singing was still a major part of my life. Music was so much a part of who I was that I could not imagine a day without it.

Then Bruce died and the light in my world went dark… I stopped playing piano. I stopped singing. It was as if my music was gone, too. My poor parents tried many times to convince me that I just needed to try. They tried to remind me how much music had helped me in the past, but I couldn’t…

I don’t mean I wouldn’t… I mean I couldn’t – really and truly, physically couldn’t. I would try to turn on the radio and just sing along but nothing would come out… except tears. I didn’t know how to explain it to anyone including myself. (Evidently, this is a common response to stress, but I didn’t know that at the time.)

Whenever someone would bring it up, I would respond, “I don’t sing anymore – not since Bruce died,” and leave it at that. I also tried playing piano but that usually just ended in a crying session. After a while, I just accepted that this was one of those changes I needed to accept… Bruce was gone. My music was gone. I just needed to move on with my life.

After a few months, I learned to use other creative outlets for my grief, such as painting or gardening. These were quiet endeavors that allowed me to get lost inside my own head… I’m not sure – perhaps I am over-analyzing it, but I think I was struggling so hard to keep from falling completely apart that I needed the outlet to be quiet… controlled, if you will. That way I could keep myself together and not “go off the deep end.”

I remember about a year after Bruce passed away, I opened a fortune cookie and it read, “You have music inside you. Let it out.” I remember smiling and thinking, “Not yet… I’m not ready.” A few months later I was listening to Wayne Dyer when he said, “Don’t die with your music still in you.” (Yes, I am aware that he was referring to one’s life purpose, but it really struck home with me.)

That lasted for almost two years… Two years of no songs… just silence. Until…

Until last Christmas, when I decided to participate in Christmas again. As I wrote recently, one of the first things that triggered the Christmas season for me in the past was playing the first Christmas music of the year on Thanksgiving Day. I spent last Thanksgiving with one of my daughters, her husband and my grandson, and true to tradition, they did the same.

At first I cringed a little bit… I wasn’t sure how to respond until I heard a sweet child’s voice. My little Bubba singing as loud as he could and filled with more joy than I could imagine.

I smiled, said a quick prayer, took a deep breath, opened my mouth and… (wait for it….) sang along. : ) In fact, we all sang all weekend. I even sang all the way home. I don’t know how to explain how victorious it felt to be able to sing and express myself again in a way that is pure joy and fun for me.

This year, my life has taken a completely new direction. As I have moved more and more into the life coaching realm, I know without a doubt my life’s purpose now is one of serving and helping others. While I don’t feel called to make music the central focus of my life again, having it back in my life gives me a fun outlet that feels like an old familiar friend.

I, also, know that my creativity helps me approach life in a more positive way… and all because of the sweet innocence and love of a child.

When we lose someone, our lives change drastically. Did you feel you lost something that had been an integral part of who you were? What did you do? Would you be willing to share your story or thoughts? To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… What do you do with the stocking?

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

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

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

Journal Entry – Dec 2, 2014

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

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

Journal Entry – Dec 3, 2014

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

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

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

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

Have you ever found yourself caught off-guard like this? What did you do? Would you be willing to share your story or thoughts? To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Lessons learned at Thanksgiving – part 2

Painting Life

For a painting to truly reflect life, it must include the shadows.
For a painter to paint, she must not try to control the brush.
She must only hold the brush and choose where to move it.
The brush must flow its own way – the way it is intended in order to creat a beautiful painting.
Otherwise, the painting will be stilted and awkward…
only a poor image of the beauty available.
To reach one’s own potential and live a full life, accept the shadows;
do not strive to control.
Let go…
Then the true beauty of your life will be seen.

~ Linda, October 26, 2013

As I mentioned last week, I spent Thanksgiving week visiting my oldest daughter across the Atlantic. There was a lot that happened that week… A lot of laughing, a lot of heart to heart conversations, learning to trust and love again and what I want to talk about this week…

recognizing the beauty created through the pain in our lives.

One of the things that absolutely amazed me during my visit was my daughter and her husband’s knowledge of the wild birds and plants that we passed on our hikes through the countryside. They would hear a bird’s song and know right away what type of bird they were looking for to match the songs. (Too cool for words!) They would also pick the leaves of a plant and hand it to me to taste and say, “That will taste like a green apple”… or “sweet peas”… and it did! (Wow!)

One day when it was just my daughter and I, she pointed out some lavender growing wild along a brick wall. I love the scent of lavender and have it throughout my house. However, I have never seen it growing in the wild. It is such a lovely plant. I picked a small piece and took a whiff, but couldn’t smell anything.

“I can’t smell it,” I said.

“You have to crush it a little… then you’ll be able to smell it,” she responded.

So I crushed it just a bit between my fingers and took another whiff… It smelled heavenly – such a soft, sweet, calming fragrance. As we kept walking, I started thinking… isn’t that just like life. So many times in order to realize our own true potential, we need to be crushed a little bit. There has to be some struggle along the way or we can never know what we are truly cabable of becoming.

I say this, but in all honesty, I would be perfectly happy to not be crushed… I’m kind of tired of that part. LOL! Learning to be thankful for the struggles in my life and recognizing the growth produced each time, has been a lesson I seem to be destined to learn over and over. But near the end of the week I came to realize that maybe I’m not the only one… maybe this applies to everyone – not just those who are grieving, but everyone.

During one of our heart to heart conversations, I told my daughter how proud I am of the woman she has become. She has such a gentle spirit and yet at the same time, she is so strong. Learning to live abroad – in another culture – and feel comfortable enough to call it “home” takes a lot of strength of character, self-reliance and patience. She blushed and shook her head as she told me how lonely she feels sometimes.

It was like listening to myself… So many of the things she said, I have said or thought a hundred times since Bruce died. It is a feeling where you know you are loved but there is still a feeling of separation from the people you love… an ever-present underlying feeling of facing the world alone. Whether that loneliness is physical or emotional doesn’t matter… Either way it is very real.

That was when it dawned on me just how real the idea of life’s struggles helping us reach our better selves truly is. I wasn’t a bad person before. (I don’t think.) But I know that since Bruce died, I have learned a lot about self-reliance and finding my happiness within myself… not from a store… or a bottle… or another person. I know that God has my back and has provided me with everything I need to get through this grief… and my life. Some days are harder than others and I struggle to remember that, but deep inside… I know it.

The struggles… the shadows of our life are what give us strength of character. It is how we learn to appreciate all the blessings in our life… those that make us smile right away and those that are the result our struggles.

Today has been a hard day… this will be my third Christmas without Bruce by my side. It is a hard reality, and today it is hard to see the blessing in it. But this I know…

I was blessed to share so many Christmases with Bruce and to have those memories. I know I am a better person because of knowing and loving Bruce. When I lost him, there were shadows created in the painting of my life that will always be there. But… those shadows also make the beauty of my life that much more intense…

and for that I can be thankful.

Have you ever grown because of a struggle? A time when you knew you had a choice to move forward or stay where you were? 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 one someone else needs to hear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And for me…

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Learning to be thankful again

Next week is Thanksgiving… that means being thankful… saying, “Thank you” to God for all he has done for us…

For me, Thanksgiving always meant the beginning of the Christmas season. I always looked forward to watching the parade… my favorite part of the morning. Because we were always cooking, (no matter where we lived or how much trouble it was), Bruce would always move the TV so I could see it and enjoy the parade. As soon as the parade ended, I would (finally) get to play the first Christmas music. It was always the same CD, Peter Paul and Mary’s: A Holiday Celebration… Admittedly, still my favorite. Next came Bruce’s favorite, John Denver and the Muppets: A Christmas Together. After that it was usually time for football, food and family. It was always a wonderful day… one I loved and treasured…

until…

The first year after Bruce passed away, I skipped Thanksgiving. I was still so deep in grief that I couldn’t imagine saying “Thank you” to God. I still felt so abandoned… I was still so very angry. “Thank you” was not anywhere in me… not for this… not for a life without Bruce.

Instead, I spent that first Thanksgiving with my youngest daughter and her boyfriend at Disney. It worked. I was with family (a good thing) but I didn’t have to think about the holiday (mission accomplished).

I didn’t have to think about what it had been and what it would never be again.

Last year I got brave. The feelings of abandonment and anger were gone for the most part. My second daughter convinced me it was time to join the rest of the world and celebrate… and say “Thank you.”

I spent the holiday with her, my grandson and son-in-law. Here is a small part of what I wrote in my journal that day:

Hi Babe! I can’t believe it’s Thanksgiving – my second one without you. This year is hard because I miss you, but I feel welcome and wanted here… I feel loved! I decided to actually celebrate the day this year. We included you in our dinner by bringing in your picture and lighting six candles with the prayer I used each day when you first died.

It ended up being such a good day… tons of food and drink, the parade, playing with Bubba and NAPS! lol!

I came to realize last year that I can celebrate the holidays, but they are different now. So many of the traditions that were important are not as important now, while others are still intact as I share them with my kids and grandson.

But now there is a new tradition at each holiday… remembering Bruce. I mentioned it in the journal entry above and I will include it here. I am not sure where I found it… it is not my idea, but I love it. Perhaps you too are looking for a way to include your loved one this season…

Memorial prayer with 6 candles:

Prayer – We light six candles in honor of you.

(Light candle 1) – This candle represents our grief. The pain of losing you is intense. It is a reminder of the depth of our love for you.

(Light candle 2) – This candle represents our courage – to confront our sorrow, to comfort each other and to change our lives.

(Light candle 3) – This candle is in your memory – the times we laughed, the times we cried, the times we were angry with each other, the silly things we did and the caring and joy you gave us.

(Light candle 4) – This candle is the light of love. Day by day we cherish the special place in our hearts that will always be reserved for you. Thank you for the gift your life brought to each of us.

(Light candle 5) – This candle is the light of hope. It reminds us of love and memories of you that are ours forever.

(Light candle 6) – This candle is the light of eternity – for the day when we 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.

May the light of the Lord be our source of hopefulness now and forever. I love you! Amen

This is my way of still including Bruce… my way of making sure he is not forgotten. How do you include your loved ones in your celebrations? I would love to hear from you… Please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

NOTE: Due to family time, I will be off schedule this week and next. I posted early this week and will be posting late next week. Thank you for understanding my need to enjoy my precious time with those I love.

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Now for the rest of the story

One Day
One day I will see him again.
And he will touch my cheek,
And kiss me,
And I will smile… again.

~ Linda, Sept 10, 2014

Last week I wrote about our upcoming anniversary… Where we had come from, what we had planned and what I anticipated as the upcoming reality. Well, it ended up being such an incredible day… better than I could have ever imagined. So, I thought this week I would share that with you… just as I wrote it in my journal (which I always write as if it is a letter to Bruce).

First I should probably explain that I don’t just believe, I know that there is still a connection between Bruce and I. (And those I am closest to and love get to hear those stories quite a bit.) This is one of those stories…

Nov 14

Hi Babe,
Oh my gosh, I miss you today! It was such a good week, especially Monday! Our anniversary was beautiful! I worked from home and started early (4:30 am) since I wasn’t sure how I would be emotionally as the day progressed. It was supposed to rain in the afternoon so I decided to go to the beach at sunrise to spend some time with you.

When I got to the station where we scattered your ashes, the tide was high; the surf was rough and while the sky was lit up, the sun hadn’t risen quite yet. I was the only one there… it was perfect.

I changed my mind about bringing you a beer and decided instead to bring you some of the Jamaican rum I got this summer. It just felt right since that was supposed to have been our trip. I started off pouring you only 1/2 a shot. (I was really hesitant to pour very much of this rum into the ocean. After all, I can’t get it here and who knows when I’ll go back there.) Then I laughed because I could almost hear you say, “Really? That’s all? What kind of tribute is that?”

Shoot! Touche! You win! I think we were both laughing as I filled the shot and poured it into the next wave that came up and covered my feet. Then, I poured my own shot and lifted it in a toast to us… to our connection that even death cannot stop.

After that I took your card and three roses and placed them in the sand below the high tide mark. I managed to get a picture before a wave came and took the card. (I did not see the card again.) However, it took a few more waves for the roses to go… at least two of them. One rose kept washing back up to my feet. I’d throw it back into the water and back it would come (right to my feet). The others were long gone, but that one kept coming back.

“Babe,” I said, “Stop! These are for you.” The next time I threw it, it didn’t come back. I smiled with satisfaction and sat down to watch the sun rise.

About that same time, a man came down the boardwalk and seeing me to the left, he followed “appropriate beach etiquette” (lol!) and went to the right. Within a minute or two, though, he was walking back toward me… carrying “the rose.”

As I stood to greet him he said, “I know this sounds weird, and I’m really out here to fish, I promise. But this rose just washed up at my feet, and I had this overwhelming urge to bring it to you. Now that I’m here, it looks like you need it.” Then he paused as I started to laugh and cry at the same time. “Was that okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said as I took the rose back and explained why I was there. I went on to explain that I had thrown that rose back several times.

“I think your husband must want you to have this one,” he said as he gave me a hug and walked back to his spot. At that point I looked out at the water to thank you, Babe, and there – not 3 feet from the shore (in the gully) – was a 4 – 5 foot shark. (We always called Bruce, My Michigan Shark, after the shark in Finding Nemo and because it was the “on-set” nickname of the shark in Jaws.)

I smiled all day because of that… thank you, Babe!

For dinner I went to our place in Cocoa and the waiter remembered me. He greeted me as soon as I walked in. “I saw ‘Anniversary dinner for one’ in the Reservation book,” he said, “and I was hoping it was you. We will make this a special night… I promise.” And, of course, they did… even down to a complimentary glass of champagne.

It was not what we planned all those years ago, Babe, but I felt happy… and loved… Thank you!

I shared this story with you knowing that there will be different reactions… and probably plenty of skeptics. That’s okay. My purpose is to write about my experience, so I will tell you what my Daddy told me when I related the beach story to my parents…

“Only you can interpret that story for yourself, Tiger.” (Yep – That’s what my Daddy has always called me.) “Don’t let anyone tell you what it is or isn’t. Keep the joy you felt and hold onto that.”

And that is precisely what I plan to do.

Website Note: Due to family time, I will be slightly off schedule for the next couple of weeks. I will post early next week and late the following week. Thank you for understanding my need to enjoy my precious time with those I love.

Have you ever had one of those moments when you connected with your loved one? I would love to hear from you… Please feel free to share your experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… your story may be the one that changes everything 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