mourn – Page 41 – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love and Grief… Hearts, Presidents and Us

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

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

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

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

To which Bruce responded:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was then… But this is now…

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

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

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

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

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Peace, Love and Grief… And time moves on

It Still Hurts

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

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

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

That, my friends, is a lie.

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

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

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

A few days later on February 4, I wrote:

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

Even this week, I found myself struggling and wrote:

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

Why am I sharing this? What is the point?

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

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

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

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

What do I know… even when days are hard?

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

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

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… A Tribute: Saying goodbye to my friends

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now, that was for me!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That brings me to this year…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… 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