Tag: mourn

Peace, Love and Grief… Please, don’t say that

Do Not Tell Me
Do not tell me how to feel;
my feelings are my own.
Do not tell me to stop my grief;
my grief is my own.
Do not tell me what Bruce would want me to do;
Bruce was my own.
He was my love…
and still is.
My pain is here and always will be.
There is no end to our love,
and there is no end to the pain.
~ Linda, January 20, 2015

A couple of months ago, I wrote about how some people will compare grief and loss between people who are grieving in the belief that they are offering comfort in some way… but it’s not comforting. In response to that blog, I have had several people respond that they, too, have encountered that same conversation on more than one occasion (with the same effect).

I mentioned in that same blog that there are other things that have been said that also have the same effect. That is my topic this week… another “please don’t.” By writing this, I don’t want to sound angry or bitter (because I’m not). I do want people to understand that some “standard phrases” that are commonly used when dealing with mourners are actually hurtful. But if we don’t say anything, how will others know?

Another phrase that I have a hard time hearing is “Bruce would want you to…” or “Bruce wouldn’t want you to…” Don’t get me wrong, when I hear this from someone who knew Bruce and loved him, that is fine… In fact, I will listen to what they have to say. (I may not do what they say, but I will listen and consider it.)

What I am referring to today is different. I am referring to someone who either barely knew Bruce or (even more frustrating) did not know him at all. How could someone who did not know him possibly begin to tell me what Bruce would want or not want? I realize that what they are really telling me is their own opinion… what they think I should do.

But they don’t stop there. Instead, they attempt to give their opinion more “authority” by using Bruce’s name. I appreciate their concern. However, by using the emotion attached to Bruce’s name it feels extremely disrespectful… It feels manipulative… It feels completely wrong.

The first year, I would get very upset but I wouldn’t say anything. I was struggling with so many emotions, but I wanted to be polite. So… I would let the conversation continue. However, somewhere in the second year, I started to turn my thought process around.

I began to look deeper into what was being said, and I began to realize that people meant well… They just didn’t know any better. Perhaps, they hadn’t really thought it through. So, what I am trying to achieve today is an understanding of why this particular phrase should be limited to the people who really knew and loved the deceased.

For example…

Earlier this year a childhood friend stopped by while passing through town. We spent some time together reminiscing and talking about what has transpired for each of us since we were children. During our conversation, he asked about losing Bruce and what life was like now. I honestly don’t mind talking about it, so I shared my thoughts, experiences and frustrations. I mentioned the fact that people say things without realizing how hurtful it is. At that point, he told that if he were to do that, he wanted me to be honest enough to tell him.

A few days later, on the anniversary of Bruce’s death, he called to express his condolences for the day and to ask how my girls and I had spent the day. During the brief conversation, he made a comment that “this would be the year Bruce would want me to move on.”

REALLY? I had not seen this person since I was a teenager… He never even met Bruce. How could he say that? What could he possibly know about Bruce and what he might want? Since I had been given permission, I was honest and spoke up (for the first time ever). “Please don’t say that,” I said. “It really bothers me. You never knew him… You can’t know what he would or wouldn’t want.” He apologized and said he understood. To be honest, I don’t know if he really understood or not. I hope he did.

For me, that was a hard step. It felt really awkward to ask someone not to say something. It felt rude even though they had told me to do exactly that. Since that day, I have had this conversation with only a few people… only those who have given me permission to say something. I won’t correct just anyone. However, when those phrases are used by someone who shouldn’t, a wall of defense automatically goes up… I can’t help it. I will get quiet and try to end the conversation. In that moment, all I want to do is get away.

On the other hand, when I am with my kids, it is not uncommon to hear the phrase “Bruce would want ____” several times a day (from all of us). It is just a natural part of the conversation. And believe it or not, I am perfectly okay with that.

Why? Because they knew him. That is the only difference but it is one that matters. They knew him, spent time with him and loved him. Their opinion of what he might or might not want is completely valid… so I listen. I may or may not agree, but I am not offended. Instead, I am grateful for their loving honesty.

So here is the bottom line… When it comes to telling someone what their loved one would or would not want:

⦁ FIRST ask yourself, “Did I know that person?”
⦁ And “Did I know them well enough to know what they would or wouldn’t want?”
⦁ If the answer to BOTH of these questions is “yes”,
⦁ AND your relationship with the mourner is good and solid,
⦁ THEN… PERHAPS, it is okay to say it.
⦁ However, if the answer to ANY of these is “no”, then… “Please, don’t say that.”

Because this is OUR community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

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

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

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Peace, Love and Grief… Where are the dreams now?

Reality
I know that you’re not coming back.
I know that even though I wish it weren’t true,
you are gone.
I know…
But it is a bitter pill to swallow.
~ Linda, March 20, 2015

This week’s blog is an extension of last week’s… but then again, that only makes sense since that is the way of time.

Last week I talked about Bruce’s birthday and the dream we had of retiring when he turned 55… This would have been that year. It was supposed to be our time… our dream. But life doesn’t always happen the way you plan it.

I had to go back to work on Tuesday, just like any other day. I woke up, I wrote in my journal, I did my meditation and I worked out. Then I got dressed and drove to work just like any other day… But it wasn’t any other day. It was the day that marked the end of a dream. I walked through the doors at work, greeted the security guard, unlocked my office door and sat down to my computer. However, everything in me was screaming, “NO!!” This wasn’t how it was supposed to be… I wasn’t supposed to be there. This was not what we had planned.

When we met, Bruce and I shared a dream. (I believe it was a part of our initial attraction.) We both wanted to retire on a boat and sail the Caribbean. I used to laugh and tell him that he could be my “cabin boy.” He would laugh right back and tell me that he couldn’t think of a better way to spend his days. I loved that! He didn’t care if I was the “Captain” – he just wanted to be together. Who wouldn’t fall in love with that?!

We spent many weekends looking at yachts – deciding what we wanted and what we didn’t. He used to laugh that we would need an entire separate boat just for my shoes… He was probably right! : )

He was such a thinker… always coming up with ideas for growing a garden on board, a “boat” solar-powered treadmill for me to have a place to run and any other way to make it uniquely “ours.” He spent hours studying ports and pirates, customs and currents. In other words, he got serious about how to actually make our dream come to life. Our dream was real for both of us, and I didn’t doubt that we would really do it one day.

When we bought our current home, I did worry just a little bit. In fact, I questioned Bruce if our dream was just that… a dream. After all, now we had a house and all the responsibilities that go with it. He just smiled and told me that dreams always have a way of coming true… after all – we had found each other.

Then one night… in a breath… in one moment of time, he was gone, I was alone, and our dream was no longer.

I knew it. Over time, I thought I had accepted it. I certainly understood it. I have done the figures and calculations… I know how much longer I need to work before I can retire. (That time-line changes when there is only one person to contribute to the budget.) Logically, I got it… I was aware of the reality of my situation. My world was real and our dreams were gone.

But how does one live – I mean REALLY live – without a dream? Is that living? That is where I found myself on Tuesday. Walking through the motions of my life and realizing that without a dream, what was the purpose? What was the point?

Bruce is gone. He isn’t coming back no matter how much I wish for it. Our dreams are gone too… but my life isn’t over. I don’t want to spend the rest of my days just going through the motions. I want a life with purpose. So while I have spent the remainder of this week mourning the loss of Bruce AND our dreams, I have also come to realize that I must look deep inside myself and find a new dream… a new purpose.

This week has been hard. I have smiled in public and pretended that all was well. However, on the inside, I have been lost… totally and completely lost. I hear this is normal… all couples share dreams and when one is gone, the dreams are gone. It is up to each of us to determine how to keep going.

I’m not sure exactly what my next dream will be but I have the glimmer of an idea that makes me smile. That alone leads me to believe I am on the right path. Life has a way of opening and closing doors, so for now, I will follow my heart, go where life leads me… and pray for the courage to keep moving forward.

I share my thoughts this week praying that if someone else is feeling the same way, they will realize that it is never too late to dream… And dreams are what give our lives purpose.

The Promise
A bird hops through the grass.
A grapevine gently bounces in the breeze.
The raindrops left on the grass from last night’s rain
sparkle in the morning sun.
The ants are already busy scrambling to and fro.
It is a new day;
Full of promise.
Let me open my heart and see the beauty that surrounds me.
Let me accept the promise of today
and hold it to my heart
so I can live each moment as it comes.
~ Linda, September 29, 2014

Because this is OUR community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Goodbye, my sweet baby boy

There is a peace the comes with acceptance;
And a love that is always remembered.
~ Linda, September 14, 2013

When I started this blog, it was because I lost my husband, Bruce. But there were other losses… other times before this one when my heart was broken. However, one thing I learned on this last journey was that any previous loss that had not been mourned or grieved was still inside waiting and I had to deal with it too. (Weird… but true.) There was too much unacknowledged hurt… and I was stuck. I couldn’t move forward until I looked back and dealt with the other losses first… the ones before this one.

The loss of my first child, a boy, was one of those losses. Due to the culture of the time, the fact that he was conceived before my first husband and I were married was considered an “embarrassment.” It was considered a “blessing” by those around me that he did not survive his birth. For them, his death meant nothing had to be explained… no one had to know. It was as if he never existed.

I already knew that I loved this little boy but suddenly he was gone. He was delivered in the doctor’s office. I was sedated and never got the opportunity to see or touch him – his little body was taken away immediately. I was told to be thankful but I wasn’t… I was devastated.

It wasn’t until Bruce died, 30 years later that I finally mourned my baby boy, Matthew… which means “gift of God.” I spent days working through my emotions and despite the disapproval of a few people, I finally acknowledged my boy to the rest of the world. I planted an angel trumpet tree in his honor and finally mourned my sweet baby boy.

To My Sweet Baby Boy
Linda, October 19, 2013

Who were you?
I never got to hold you in my arms,
Or kiss your brow.

I never felt your sleeping head on my shoulder,
Or your soft breath on my neck.

I never rocked you to sleep,
Or heard you cry.

I only held you inside me for a short time,
While I dreamed of what you would be like.

I never gave you a name or said goodbye.
You were gone before I ever had the chance to see you.

My heart broke that day;
For the first time, I knew what real pain was.
I loved you…
I never had the chance to tell you.
I still do…
I still love you.

Have you ever lost a baby or a child? That is a loss that shatters you deep in your soul. I would like for all of us to support each other and share that piece of our hearts.

If you have experienced the loss of a child, take a moment, go to the comments and leave the name of your child and anything you would like to share about them. Let’s take this space and this time to remember and honor those precious lives that were in our care, however briefly.