Peace, Love & Grief – Page 5 – There is a peace that comes with acceptance, and a love that is always remembered

Peace, Love, and Grief – Learning to Accept What Is

Note: My apologies for not posting last week. I was spending some very needed time with family. <3

This past week marked what would have been our 18th wedding anniversary. It’s hard to believe that wonderful day when we joined our lives was that long ago. It feels like only yesterday. I know it’s been more than 10 years since Bruce’s death, and yet… our time together still seems so closely connected to my life… even now.

This is the time of year that always holds its challenges for me. There is one memorable event after another – our anniversary, Thanksgiving, my birthday, Christmas, the anniversary of our meeting, New Years, and the anniversary of his death. Whew! It is a lot of emotions in a short span of time!

This year, there has even been a little more craziness to add to the pile. The company where I have worked for 17 years made the necessary decision to lay off 2400 people at the end of September. While my kids who also work there were safe, my job (and most of my department) was considered expendable at this time. So… here I am looking for a job, while balancing all these other events in the background. (Sigh…)

In the past, I know I would have been an emotional basket case. In fact, this blog likely would have been filled with all kinds of sadness and self-pity… Not this year, though… At least, not this week.

As I have said before, I have spent this year working on me… learning to simply “be”… learning to focus on “what is” versus “what was”. I have found a church which has encouraged my own spiritual growth, made friends who have similar goals and focus, and learned to let go (with love) of those things that I cannot control or do not serve me in a positive way. Therefore, when this quote popped up in my readings last week, it truly spoke to my heart.

“We may not always get what we want, but through gratitude and giving, we have the opportunity to want what we already have and to realize just how much we have to give.”
~ Teresa Burton, The Daily Word Nov – Dec 2023 edition, Dear Reader

I know this is the month of gratitude, so I wasn’t surprised to read this. What did surprise me was my response to it. In the past, I would have thought, “Yeah, sure, but… how can I be thankful during this time when I am constantly reminded of all that I have lost?” Instead, my heart has embraced this idea.

Why? I think a lot of it has to do with the wording. Rather than telling the reader what to feel or not feel, this quote starts with empathy for what is not – “We may not always get what we want…” The word “may” instead of a harsher “don’t” makes the difference for me. If the phrase were “we don’t always get what we want”, I would have stopped reading, because that sounds like the beginnings of a lecture. It would have lacked the empathy that I still need to hear.

Then, this quote gives some ideas for direction – “… through gratitude and giving, …” In other words, it isn’t just about gratitude for what I do have, it also involves looking outside of myself to see where I might help someone else with their struggles. That is definitely something I have taken to heart this year… By looking outside of myself, my focus changes. Instead, I find myself looking at others. I’m not trying to “rescue” anyone, but I can offer kindness and understanding, or maybe there is a physical need where I can help. Next thing I know, my own struggles don’t seem so all-encompassing.

Finally, the quote ends with hope – “… we have the opportunity to want what we already have and to realize just how much we have to give.” Hope for opportunities to come and realization of what we have… This is something that is hard to hold onto when we are grieving. Trust me… I know. For years, I have struggled to find any kind of hope in a life without Bruce. However, when I focus on the opportunities and possibilities ahead, life looks completely different.

So… This year, as I move through each of these days and weeks ahead with such deep emotional reminders (and possible triggers), I pray that I really can remember Bruce and all that we had, while also remembering to express my gratitude for all that is – my friends, my family, my health, the job that is waiting for me, and my faith that tells me there are so many more wonderful possibilities out there simply waiting for me to discover them.

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Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

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

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

Peace, Love, and Grief – The Landscape of Loss

“The landscape of loss is fertile for growth.”
~ Sheri McGregor, Done with the Crying

I wish there was a real guide to grief. Yea, I know, there are lots of books out there about grief… There are also articles, memes, and blogs (like this one), and the list could go on and on. But let’s be honest, no matter what someone else writes or says, it will never 100% reflect what you or I are going through because everyone’s grief experience is different.

I know that… You likely know that too. So, then, why are we constantly looking for help and for answers?… I am guessing because this hurts so bad. The journey is beyond hard, and we are used to having answers at our fingertips… But honestly, I don’t think there are any straight, cookie-cutter answers. Instead, we have to weed through everyone else’s experiences and figure out what parts can help us as an individual.

I am a performance person. I understand the backdrop, landscape, or setting, (call it what you will), helps the viewer to have a better understanding of what is or will be happening. So, for me, I wish I had had a better idea of what the backdrop or landscape of this whole thing was going to be like.

In the beginning, I really thought that my life would look basically the same… just minus a person – Bruce. After all, I had lost all of my grandparents, and that had been my experience (for the most part). Yes, I loved them, I cried, and I (still) miss them, but my day-to-day life never really changed. It was just my life… minus a person (that I love).

But when Bruce died, that no longer held true. Suddenly, there were so many holes in my life. Bruce was woven into the tapestry of each and every portion of my world… and then, suddenly, he wasn’t. During those first few months, don’t think I realized just how much my world, (including the landscape), had changed or how hard it would be to go on doing life without him.

Honestly, I’m not sure if anyone could have adequately explained how this would look or feel. I mean, to the outside world, I think my life didn’t look a whole lot different. I got up in the morning. I worked out. I went to work. I came home. I took care of things around the house. I ate dinner, and I went to bed.

All the same exact things I did before Bruce died… Only now, I did it all by myself… No more chatter or dancing in the kitchen as I cooked dinner… No more kisses good morning or good night. Can I just say that the whole going to bed and sleeping alone thing is still a struggle for me a decade later? I still pile all the pillows up on the other side of the bed, so there is the illusion of Bruce there when I am between dreams.

Then, there are the things Bruce used to do around the house. I’m not trying to sound lazy, but when you live with someone, the household chores tend to get divided up. With Bruce and I, that division happened organically. There was never a discussion, but somehow it ended up where I loaded the dishwasher, and he emptied it. I dusted, and he ran the vacuum. I cleaned the bathrooms, and he took care of the litter boxes. I’m sure you get the picture.

I think almost a whole week passed (after everyone had left and gone home) before I realized all the “other” chores that now were mine. It probably sounds funny, but I had to put up sticky notes everywhere to remind me to do even the littlest things, such as locking the doors before going to bed. (Bruce had always done that before.) There had been such a comfortable rhythm to our life, and suddenly that was gone.

To the rest of world, that may not seem like a big deal. Of course, all of that changes. Of course, I now had to take over everything. Of course, of course, of course! However, when you are the one in the middle of all of this, it is a big deal. I was in shock. I could barely remember to breathe, and suddenly I had to remember to do all the things.

Let me be honest here… I forgot things a lot. That first year, I almost forgot to file our taxes. (Thankfully, someone reminded me just a couple of days before they are due.) I forgot my keys constantly and found myself locked out of the house more times than I can count. Several times, I remember putting the milk away in the kitchen cupboard instead of the frig… It was ridiculous!! I’ve even talked to widows who forgot to pay their bills. They were in such a state of bewilderment that they just piled all the mail up on the counter until something got turned off. Then, they had to scramble to pull themselves out of that hole. (I swear to you, grief brain really is a thing!)

As time has passed, (and it has taken a while), I have come to find my own rhythm. In fact, I am actually way more organized than I ever was before. Several of the chores are kind of big for me, like keeping up with the yard. However, I have a process, and as long as I stick to it, I can keep up. I have learned (from Bruce) that You Tube is my friend when it comes to repairs. In fact, over the years, I have fixed my ice maker, the dishwasher, and many severely clogged drains to name a few.

In other words, this really is a journey of more than emotions. It is a journey of learning… and trust me – I am learning! It’s funny, but even now, Bruce is still my inspiration. His philosophy was “if it’s already broken, why not try to fix it myself?” (It still makes me smile when I think of him grinning with pride after fixing something challenging.)

Now a days, I am constantly thinking that he would be so proud of me for fixing this or figuring out that… by myself (mostly)! Of course, I can’t fix everything. I know where my boundaries are – like the taxes… and for those things, I either call on one of my sons-in-law or I hire people. In other words, I find people who know what they are doing when I don’t.

To me, this is one of the weird parts of grief. It is the part no one really talks about. It is the day-to-day business of life that makes up the whole landscape of our world. It is all the parts we don’t really think about when someone dies. Yet, it is such a huge part of the loss.

I remember when I went through some grief counseling that first year, and one of the assignments was to list all the things Bruce used to do that now fell on me. That was eye-opening and a bit overwhelming for me. Honestly, there are still times when something breaks or something happens, and my first reaction is “D*%$ it, Bruce! Where are you?? I can’t do this by myself.” But then, it is like I can feel him take my hand and say, “You’ve got this… You can do it.” And so, I do, because…

“You’re not a quitter. You’re a starter – in a new phase of life.”

~ Sheri McGregor, Done with the Crying

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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. This year, my goal is to simply ‘be’… Be me, be kind, be compassionate, be loving, be hopeful… to just ‘be’ and to be comfortable with that… however it looks.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

This is a weekly blog, for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief
* Be advised that all comments are subject to approval prior to posting. Any comments determined to be spam or not in accordance with the mission of this website/blog will not be approved or posted. Furthermore, any comments determined to be hostile in nature will be reported to the proper authorities. Thank you.

Peace, Love, and Grief – Letting Go

Fall… I love this time of year. Granted, in Florida, there aren’t the huge seasonal changes as in other places, but still… there are enough changes for us to notice. I love the cool (for Florida) nights and the cooler temps during the days. We don’t get a lot of color changes here… Okay, there are none at all in the trees, but the flowers that bloom are different than the ones blooming a few short weeks ago. (I guess, it’s all in what you choose to see.)

This year, fall has also held some other thoughts for me… Partly in the lessons to be learned by the world around us…

“And so begins the season of letting go,
When Mother Nature shows us all,
How it’s done.
Let go,
Free yourself“
~ From the poem, “The Season of Letting Go” by Donna Ashworth

Over the last several weeks, God, (the Universe, Spirit, whatever you prefer to call it), has been (what feels like) screaming at me to “let it go”. It started last month while on a retreat. We were talking about the different capacities of the mind that can be a link to God based on the divine spark within all people. We each pulled a card with one of these capacities listed on it to form a discussion team… and the one I pulled was… (drumroll, please) … the power of release.

Honestly, at the time, I didn’t think much of it on a personal level. I met with my group. We had a quick discussion about letting go of those things in our lives that are no longer serving us. Maybe these things had served a purpose at some point… maybe not. Either way, release involves letting those things go, so we can move forward in a healthy way. Nice discussion… great lesson… and as far as I was concerned, it was over… Only it wasn’t…

Instead, there have been constant little reminders every single day about letting go… releasing… and moving forward. This past week, it felt like the messages got even louder when in one of my meditations, it simply stated, “There are times when you have to let go.”

Seriously?? Okay… I’m listening… But… Let go of what?? Let go of people who hurt me? (What if that isn’t the answer? What if I can’t?) Let go of my old career expectations? (I’m currently looking to do that.) Let go of my grief for Bruce? (I don’t think I’m ready.) Let go of past traumas? (I’m working on that.) As more time has passed, I have felt more lost and frustrated, but still no answers… Let go of what?? It has been making me crazy!!

Even at Yoga this week, the instructor did something different, and led a yoga meditation for the hour based on… you guessed… letting go. She started with a wonderful poem by Saphire Rose called, “She Let Go”. Before the first line had been read, I was a puddle of tears…

“She let go. Without a thought
or a word, she let go.”
~ Saphire Rose, “She Let Go”

I came home and simply sat… It was obvious by this point that there is something I need to release, but what?… Obviously, I can think of a few things, but if those are to be released, then could someone, please, show me how? … So, I sat, and I pondered… But I got no answers… until this morning.

This morning, I did something I have not done since Bruce died. I sang… in public… at church. What in the world was I thinking??

You see, I have sung my entire life. When Bruce died, though, I simply stopped singing. It wasn’t really a conscious decision like “oh, Bruce died. I’ll never sing again.” Instead, it was more like all the joy in my world was suddenly gone and with it went my music. I have even written about it here a time or two. After a few years, I did finally start singing in the car or when I was alone at home, but only if it was Christmas music, or if I was clowning around with my grandson. In other words, the times were few and far between.

Then, with all the radiation and meds for the cancer years ago, my voice became not much more than a whisper. I went to a physical therapist who helped me recover my talking voice, but she told me without hesitation, that I would never sing again. At the time, I was devastated. Music has always been such a huge part of my identity that I couldn’t imagine having that taken away. At the same time, I continued to do my vocal exercises… and started noticing that she was wrong. My singing voice most certainly has been (slowly) coming back. I like to say my singing voice is like my curly hair, each day it does what it wants, and I just learn to go with it.

Then this week, our music director reached out and said that he heard I could sing and would I be willing to help out this week. I’m not sure what I was thinking, but I said, “Yes.” Immediately, I was nervous, and found myself praying that something would happen, so I wouldn’t have to sing after all… but (of course) nothing happened.

Instead, I found myself warming up in front of the mirror this morning as I got dressed… What in the world had I been thinking when I said yes???

Then, as I sat down in my reading chair for my morning tea and meditation time, I picked up a book to place it back on the shelf, and it fell open to a quote…

“Even in the blackest darkness, there is always light shining somewhere.”
~ Karen White, The Sound of Glass

That is true… There is always some light somewhere… So, then, why do I always feel like I am in the darkness? And suddenly, I knew… I knew without any doubt what it is I need to release…

It is not people or career expectations. It is not my grief for Bruce or any other past traumas… It is not anything that simple, nor is it any one thing or experience… Instead, it is something that lies under all of these things… It is fear. I need to let go of the fear that I let dictate so much of what I do or don’t do.

Unhealthy relationships? I fear rejection. I fear abandonment. I fear being unlovable. I fear not being enough.

Career expectations? I fear not finding another job. I fear losing everything I own (again). I fear no one believing in me or taking a chance on me.

My grief for Bruce? I fear losing my connection to him. I fear losing his family in my life. I fear taking a chance on someone else and going through this pain all over again.

Past traumas? I fear reliving them. I fear forgetting the lessons I learned there. I fear doing the work needed to reprocess and let these go.

That is it! That is my mission. That is the thing I need to release… fear.

So, this morning, nerves and all, I faced my fears… and sang. My son came and sat in the back to offer support, (which is a huge deal, because he is atheist) … but he was there… for me. I did it… and I survived. I’m still here. Nothing happened. The earth didn’t open up and swallow me whole. No one booed me. In fact, it was fine, and people couldn’t have been kinder.

That was my first step. I know there are a lot more still in front of me, but one day at a time… one step at a time… I can learn to trust myself and set a new course. I can learn let go of all those fears and maybe… just maybe… learn to simply live my life as a woman without fear.

“Like a leaf falling from a tree,
She just let go.”
~ Saphire Rose, “She Let Go”
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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. This year, my goal is to simply ‘be’… Be me, be kind, be compassionate, be loving, be hopeful, be fearless… to just ‘be’ and to be comfortable with that… however it looks.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

Peace, Love, and Grief – Life Takes Unexpected Turns

Grief is not my identity. It’s not who I am although sometimes I have to remind myself of that. When I see a loving couple or when “our song” comes on the radio, it is triggering. Then, it can be so easy to feel like grief is who I am. At the same time, I know who I am, and “grief” is not who I am… nor is it how I live my day-to-day life. However, grief is how I have responded to this hand I was dealt.

While in the darkest days of my first marriage, I used to pray for peace. I can remember sitting on the back porch after the kids had gone to bed. I couldn’t understand why my (now) ex-husband treated the kids and I the way he did. Why couldn’t he love me? Why couldn’t he love us? Maybe he did somewhere deep down, but his actions towards us were not those of love. There was no peace in our house when he was there. We all walked on eggshells waiting for the next tirade or burst of anger. After many years, I realized that if I wanted peace for the kids and I, it was up to me to do something about it. I knew we needed to leave… and we did with nothing but the clothes on our backs initially. (On a side note, the anniversary of that day was just this past week.)

It still took three long years of games and manipulation on his part for the divorce to be final. Yet, when it was, there was a sense of peace and calm in our little family that felt amazing. I didn’t want anything to mess that up. I wasn’t willing to take a chance on that happening again.

In fact, when Bruce and I met, I made my feelings very clear, as did he… But life takes unexpected turns…

My mother had been praying for me to meet someone to love me… Someone to really and truly love me… Bruce was that man. Even though we had both been hurt deeply before… even though we were both hesitant and scared… We both knew the love we felt was real and couldn’t be denied. So, despite the fact that we had both sworn we would never do it again… We got married.

What a marriage! Sure, we had our difficult moments – that’s life. Be that as it may, even in the midst of those difficult times, we were both confident in the love we shared. Those years together showed me (and my kids) what real, unconditional love is and what a healthy marriage looks like. This hand that life had dealt us was amazing! … But life takes unexpected turns.

In the wee hours one January morning, I woke up to Bruce dying. There was no time to think. I called 911. I performed CPR… but it was all in vain. Despite all efforts to save him, Bruce died… and a huge part of me died with him. Was this really the hand life was dealing for us now?

I had prayed for peace, and I had lived in peace. Then Bruce came along, and love was added to our world… but life takes unexpected turns, and now all of that was gone. Just like that… In the blink of an eye, it was all gone.

That was over ten years ago, and I am still learning how to live with this hand I was dealt. Over these ten years, I have found myself (once again) praying for peace… A peace that will sooth my broken heart. A peace that will let me feel hope and joy again.

As I have said several times this year, 2023 has been a rough year. Still, I have found a place… a church where I am reminded of the peace and divine within each of us. I have come to know that by reaching for the divine within me and the peace that flows from that space, I can manage this hand I have been dealt. I can survive this unexpected turn… and the next. It isn’t easy… it’s hard. Yet I know that if I want peace, joy, and hope in my life, it has to start within me.

“I wish to live a peaceful life, not swayed by the shifting winds of circumstance. I do this by remembering peace begins with me, and my world can only be as peaceful as I am.” ~ Daily Word, June 9, 2023

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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. This year, my goal is to simply ‘be’… Be me, be kind, be compassionate, be loving, be hopeful… to just ‘be’ and to be comfortable with that… however it looks.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

Peace, Love, and Grief – Alone or Lonely

Last week, I mentioned that the most difficult battles are those that lie within us. Because they are within us, those battles can vary from determining our next step on this path to searching for spiritual direction to dealing with past trauma… and the list goes on. There seems to be one element, though, that each of these battles carries… Because they lie within us, each has the potential to be emotionally charged… and that is where I need to be aware and be careful.

One of the biggest challenges that rears its ugly head over and over is that of feeling lonely. Being lonely is such an odd thing, which can lead to some awful experiences, but understanding the nuances involved can be a life saver.

I have always been an introvert… No, I’m not shy. I am referring to where and how I get my energy. For me, I recharge my batteries by being alone. It doesn’t take much, but I definitely need some time to myself each day or I tend to get a bit cranky. The good news… Bruce was the same. While we loved being together, we both needed that time apart, too.

During our marriage, it was not unusual for one of us to go somewhere at the end of a long day just to be alone for a little bit between work and home. For Bruce, it might mean a quick fishing trip off the pier or a quiet beer in a solitary corner of the local pub. For me, it usually meant going to sit by the water (ocean, lake, or river – it doesn’t matter to me) and contemplating life or just letting the sounds of the water calm my soul.

So… One would think that I would love my current situation, living all alone. To be honest, there are parts of it that I like. I enjoy the quiet. I find a respite in my favorite chair, looking out the window, and watching the world go by. For the most part, I can do what I want to do when I want to do it. Equally important, I do not have to do what I don’t want to do, either. In this sense, I truly enjoy being alone.

However, there is a space beyond being alone that is hard. It is a space of darkness that can take over my emotions before I even realize it is there… That space is called loneliness…

“It’s not being alone that hurts. It’s feeling like no one cares.”
~ Muriel, Netflix’s Virgin River

According to the internet, being alone is defined as “having no one else present”; loneliness is defined as “sadness because one has no companions”. So similar… but it is the sadness – the emotion – that makes the difference. Like drifting smoke from a low, smoldering fire, the sadness drifts into my world – unnoticed at first… and before I realize it, I am way down deep into the rabbit hole with self-pity and self-loathing becoming stronger and stronger with each breath.

I wish I understood what it is that triggers the sadness… Maybe that would make it easier to keep at bay. However, I don’t, and that can be problematic. I can’t tell you how many times, I am fine. I am alone and enjoying the moment. Then, there is a trigger. (That is the part I am still trying to figure out.) For whatever reason, as if someone has flipped a switch, I will suddenly feel totally and completely alone.

I usually find myself going through my list of family and friends in my head… “Who can I call?… Who might want to just chat?” Then, just as quickly, I talk myself out of calling anyone. Instead, I will convince myself that to call would be a bother. No one wants to talk to me… No one has time for me… They are all busy… They all have lives and families… They don’t need me to interrupt their time… (and on and on it goes).

I don’t know why I do it, but I don’t think I am alone in this. From what I have read, this is a normal part of widowhood. For whatever reason, we find it very easy to convince ourselves that no one needs us, no one cares, we are a bother… (You get the picture.) And that is where we do ourselves in. It isn’t being alone that is the problem; it is convincing ourselves that no one cares… That thought process becomes the problem.

I don’t know about you, but once I start down that path, I can spiral down quite quickly. Then, climbing back out of that spiral can take some time. It’s hard… It hurts… and sometimes I just don’t have the energy to fight it.

However, I have learned one thing that seems to help… I have a small handful of people that know this is a struggle for me. They also don’t mind being my go-to when life hurts, (and I do the same for them). It probably sounds silly, but as long as I remember to call one of these friends before I spiral too far, I am usually okay…

That is my challenge…. Remembering that I really do have people who love me, care about me, and are willing to “be there” for me before the pain gets too bad… In other words, I (not so simply) need to remember that I may be alone, but that doesn’t mean I have to be lonely.

________________________________________________________

Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. This year, my goal is to simply ‘be’… Be me, be kind, be compassionate, be loving, be hopeful… to just ‘be’ and to be comfortable with that… however it looks.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message. *

Peace, Love, and Grief – My Path

When we were together,
The idea of spending the rest of our life together
Didn’t seem long enough.
Now, the idea of spending the rest of my life without him
Seems impossibly long.
~ Linda, 2013

I spent last weekend doing something for me… I went to a spiritual meditation retreat. It was a lovely experience with a wonderful wide range of people and thoughts. There were casual conversations, intense discussions, and a lot of practical application. I have come away with a lot of practical tips and so much to ponder.

In one conversation early in the weekend, I connected with another widow, as we discussed our own grief journeys. We all know that each of us will experience grief differently, and I find it interesting and helpful to hear and learn from others on this path. In our conversation, I struggled to keep my emotions in check as I talked about Bruce. Yet, my new friend seemed to be fine. She clearly missed her spouse and was sad about his loss, but emotionally, she seemed to have it all together.

I wasn’t critical of that… far from it… I was in awe… maybe even a little jealous. She has been on this path less time than me… Yet, she seemed so far ahead. How could I get where she is emotionally? I had no idea, so I asked. Her answer was simple… ”That was his path – not mine. My path is still in front of me.”

WOW! It is crazy how sometimes truth that is so simple evades us… That is until it hits us right between the eyes. Her statement is true… I have often written about how thankful I am that Bruce did not die alone. I was there… I held him… I loved him… I still do. That was his path… and mine, in that moment… but that moment is gone. I know that, and while I believe she is right, I am struggling to live like I believe it. I am still struggling with the hurt and the pain of losing him. I am struggling because the path I thought I was on included Bruce, but that path ended…

So, how do I continue on my path…

I once heard someone say that unresolved grief is like being tethered… That is also true… And I believe that whatever we are tethered to is probably different for each of us. So, I guess that has become my first step – figuring out why I am allowing myself to remain tethered here… What it is I am afraid to let go of… and why?

I have talked about it with those I love and have continued to ponder this all week. Admittedly, I’m still working on it. However, I have come up with a few things.

Basically, at the core of the issue is fear. Fear of losing my connection with Bruce… I don’t want to miss the signs that let me know he is still close by and I am not alone. Fear of forgetting him – who he was, what his voice sounded like, what his face looked like when he smiled at me. Fear of forgetting who we were as a couple – our easy conversation, the gentleness and acceptance between us, our love that filled us both with security and confidence.

These were the things that (for me) felt unique, new, and special. These were the things that added color to my world. These were the things that lit up our world and made our path together so clear. These were the things that were missing from my world before Bruce. So, maybe, then, it makes sense that these are also the things I (still) miss now.

Which leads me to the part I am still working on…

Is it really my tears and grief that connect me to Bruce… or is the love and experiences we shared?

Do I need to keep crying over what is lost… or can I still claim it… without the tears, since it is a part of my path?

Can I live my life without feeling guilty that I am still here, and he isn’t?

Sometimes the most difficult battle is the one within ourselves… And this is where I am today. As I write this, I don’t have the answers. I am searching… and growing… and I do believe that the simple fact that I am delving into this is a positive step on my journey.

I am not sure where my path will lead me. (None of us are.) Yet, I want to find that space where I am grateful for what was, accepting of what is, and excited about what is ahead.

I smile again…
Slow at first…
A little awkward.
Then, quickly I shut it down.

Soon I am smiling again…
A little longer…
A little bigger.

One day I will smile like I smiled before…
Full of life and love.
~ Linda, 2014

Peace, Love, and Grief – The Rug

Trauma… There’s a word that has been popping up in the media a lot lately. It is also a word that has been a part of my story since the first time I went to counseling. In fact, (not surprisingly), it was the actual reason for that initial counseling. But what is trauma…

Trauma is defined on the internet as “a deeply distressing or disturbing experience; emotional shock following a stressful event or a physical injury, which may be associated with physical shock and sometimes leads to long-term neurosis.” That is good… That takes into account the event and the effects. While not as complete, I have defined it for years as “unexpected chaos”… Either way, the event seems to happen with no warning and leaves nothing but destruction in its wake.

If statistics are to be believed, most of us have gone (or will go) through some type of traumatic event at some point in our lives. Some of us will go through several. Honestly, I had never thought about trauma being a piece of my life until that initial session, when my first marriage with its abuse and chaos was defined as traumatic, as well as the loss of our first child and the uproar between the families that ensued. Through the years, there, also, have been other “unexpected chaotic” events which have left their mark.

Each time, I have gotten back up – shaking and stumbling, but determined to keep going… and (seemingly) each time, once I have gotten back up and felt like I had my footing again, someone or something has pulled the rug back out from under me… again.

I have often bragged about the healing that Bruce brought to me and my kids… How his infinite patience and unconditional love allowed us the space to learn how to trust again… how to live again… how to be ourselves… (in other words) how to heal.

The day before Bruce died, he had worked all day. That night, as he ate his dinner, we sat and talked and made our plans for the weekend. We kissed goodnight and snuggled in the bed before falling asleep. To my mind, there was nothing to warn us of what was about to happen in just a few short hours. But happen, it did. Unexpectedly… in the middle of the night, I was awakened to the awful sounds of Bruce dying.

I struggled at first to grasp what was happening, but once I did, my survival instincts kicked in… I called 911. I unlocked the doors. I started CPR. Then, when EMS arrived, I stepped aside and watched as the reality of what was happening (or not happening) started to sink in. I watched the line on the heart monitor remain flat despite all the attempts to save him. I watched as our world fell apart and crumbled at my feet.

There is no doubt that for me this was the most traumatic event of them all…

I feel that I had barely started to heal from all that came before. I had just started to feel confident in who I am. I had just started to understand that adult relationships are supposed to be about balance, mutual respect, and compassion. It wasn’t about power plays or rescuing the other person from their consequences or fixing their world to suit them. I was just starting to grasp, embrace, and live my life with these principles when suddenly… Bruce was gone.

Once again, just when I was starting to stand confidently on my own two feet… just when I was willing to venture out as my own person, that rug was viciously ripped out from under me.

Almost immediately, I felt as if I were thrown back in time… I couldn’t seem to find any of that healing and confidence I had gained with Bruce. Perhaps, I hadn’t learned how to find that within myself yet… Or… maybe (because of the crisis created), I reverted to old patterns of survival. If I am honest, I think it was a bit of both.

I wanted to make Bruce proud. I wanted to “do it right”. I wanted to regain all that I had learned and put it into action… But I couldn’t seem to find my way. You see, I wasn’t just lost in this world without Bruce – I had lost myself.

In the decade since that awful night, I have worked hard to get back to a healthy place again. It has been a slow process… a long journey. There have been times when I thought I couldn’t do it – when I thought maybe “this” was just the way I was built. But… (thankfully) there have been more times when I have focused on Bruce’s legacy and realized that I am stronger than I think… If he believed in me, then I can too.

Throughout this time, there have been other traumatic events… Times when that dang rug was pulled out again… and again… and again… Each time, I have thought, “How do I do this without Bruce… It seems like I am always doing these things without Bruce.”

This year has probably been one of the hardest… It seems like one event right after another – piling up like a cord of wood… And this month even more so, as this round of rug pulling seems to be throwing my very way of life into chaos.

This time, though, is different. I have spent this year working hard on learning to “be” – to be kind, to be honest, to be genuine, to be healthy, to be hopeful, to be… me. I have also found a solid space within my own faith where I am confident, supported, and at peace…

Peace… That is something I have not felt in a very, long time. Sure, the slogan of this blog is, “There is a peace that comes with acceptance, and a love that is always remembered.” However, learning to live by that slogan has taken some time (and constant hard work).

Yet, after the initial shock of recent events, I really am at peace. Don’t get me wrong, things feel a bit scary and out of my control right now, but I am confident that there is a reason for what is happening. I am choosing to believe that there is something even better on the other side of this situation… And here’s the best part… One way or the other, I have to deal with this. My choices are to do it feeling like a victim with no control in my own life, OR to do it with the confidence that I will be okay. I have chosen the latter… I can do this!

(And while I am absolutely doing this for me, I, also, think Bruce is smiling down and so proud!)

________________________________________________________

Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. This year, my goal is to simply ‘be’… Be me, be kind, be compassionate, be loving, be hopeful… to just ‘be’ and to be comfortable with that… however it looks.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

Peace, Love, and Grief – In the Beginning…

Last week, I talked about going back, reading earlier journals, and sharing some of my favorite memories. This week, I thought I’d share something different… This week, I thought I’d share some of my entries from those first few weeks. Between the shock of Bruce’s death and the impact of what that would mean to my future, it was a really hard time. I know the details of everyone’s experience are different, but that period of reality and adjustment is hard… for anyone…

One Week

Oh God! This is too hard! I can’t do it. God is expecting too much from me. It’s been a week – he needs to come back!

All last night I kept thinking that a week ago we were living our last few moments together, and we had no idea. I kept trying to remember his smile, his touch, that last kiss goodnight.

There are no regrets about how those last moments were spent. They were good. They were happy. They were normal… I just want one more hour – one hug, one smile, one more evening just snuggling on the couch. I need to lay my head on his chest while he strokes my back and tells me it’s all going to be okay. But I don’t get any of that, and it’s not going to be okay. I can’t even breathe without him. Oh God! How am I going to do this???

“When you’re grieving, that’s not the time to be brave or strong. You need to let it show.”
~ Zig Ziglar

Nine Days

This is awful! I’m so lonely. Today will be my first day alone… I’m scared…

It’s funny… when people came those first few days, they said they would stay as long as I needed them to… Now, nine days later, they are all gone. I guess it is just as well. I have to learn to be alone some time. I know they all have lives to get back to… I wish I did. I wish I could get in my car and drive back to my life with Bruce.

I can see how people die of a broken heart… This is way too wrong. We love each other – that won’t stop – I still Love him. Why take such a man? Bruce was such a wonderful influence on everyone he met. He was my exact match… I still love him so, so much!

“It takes strength to face our sadness and to grieve and to let our grief and our anger flow in tears when they need to.”
~ Fred Rogers

Ten Days

Last night was hard. Reality hit… I am no longer the center of anyone’s world. From now on, I will always be behind whatever else is going on in someone’s life. I understand that… it is the way it should be. At the same time, it is hard to know that there is no longer my Bruce, who loves me first and foremost. He had a way of making me feel so important. But that is gone, and I need to accept that… Is it okay to feel sorry for myself for a little bit, though? I hope so, because I just want to crawl in a hole. I know I am an emotional drain to everyone… I want to be happy, but it just feels so fake right now.

“There are things that we don’t want to happen but have to accept; things we don’t want to know but have to learn, and people we can’t live without but have to let go.”
~ Nancy Stephan, The Truth About Butterflies

Eleven Days

You’re really not coming back. That is so hard to understand… to accept. How do I pick up these shattered pieces and move on? I can’t. Please don’t ask me to – don’t make me. This is pain so great, so overwhelming that I don’t know how to begin. I can’t even pray. I can talk to you, Babe… sing to you, yell at you… but I can’t talk to God. I should… but the words aren’t there. I don’t feel mad at Him (at least I don’t think so). Yet, whenever I try to pray, there is nothing there. I can read verses and some even bring a moment of comfort… But I can’t pray.

Please don’t go. Please let me wake up and this be some horrible, horrible nightmare. I don’t think I can survive this. Everyone says I am doing great, I’m gonna be okay, I’m strong, etc.… But I don’t think so. This feels like more than I can bear. My heart lay in pieces… I can’t even breathe, and to move feels like a mighty chore. Survival is such a fight right now… It’s just that you were my whole world, and now my world is gone.

“Sometimes, all I can hope for is that I’ll feel more hopeful tomorrow.”
~ Martha Whitmore Hickman, Healing After Loss

There are so many things about Bruce that I miss even now. We had so many dreams of what our life together would be like, but for whatever reason, I was left here to figure all that out alone. In the beginning, I didn’t think I could survive this… but, somehow, I have. Whenever I feel like I can’t go another step, I remember him – his confidence, his smile, his love – and somehow, I feel a little less lonely and that next step a little less impossible. Remembering Bruce… remembering the love we shared… and I know that the love I still feel within is far greater than any I have ever experienced… and to have never experienced this love would be so much worse than this pain I feel now.

Thank you, Babe… Thank you for making such a huge difference in my life.
________________________________________________________

Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. This year, my goal is to simply ‘be’… Be me, be kind, be compassionate, be loving, be hopeful… to just ‘be’ and to be comfortable with that… however it looks.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

Peace, Love, and Grief – Memory Lane

Before Bruce passed, I had never kept a journal before. However, when he died, one of the first things my mother suggested for the grief I was struggling with was to start a journal. I had no idea what to write or how to put all the feelings I had on paper in such a way as to be helpful. Yet, the minute I picked up a pin and opened that first blank book, the struggle was gone. My mother was right… This was going to be my outlet.

In the beginning, I write several times a day… There was so much weighing on my soul that I needed to simply get out. While I no longer write daily, I do write consistently. I guess with no one around to talk to, this is still a wonderful outlet for me.

This week, while filling out some paperwork, I found myself in need of some dates that were foggy at best inside my own head. My journals, though… they list almost every important event over the last decade, so that is where I went… And while I was perusing through, I found myself walking down memory lane as I read through the entries.

In the beginning, I was so scared of forgetting all the wonderful moments Bruce and I shared, that I started recording them in my journals. I am so glad I did, because there were stories and events that I had not thought about for years. In fact, reading these entries has been such a bittersweet experience, I thought I would share a story or two with you, in Bruce’s honor. After all, as long as his story is still being told, he is not forgotten…

January 20, 2013

On the first cruise where I met Bruce, we danced and danced – all night, every night. I was so excited to take the same cruise the next year as our honeymoon (with two of my kids in tow – LOL). However, on this second cruise, Bruce would not dance at all. He simply wouldn’t. In the cabin one night, I was upset and (actually) crying. (I had been so excited about a “repeat” cruise.)

“But I don’t need to dance now. We’re married,” he said. He wasn’t trying to be mean; he was just being honest… and a guy. He did finally dance with me… once. However, it was pretty clear, he didn’t want to. Through the years, he danced with me quite often – barefoot in the kitchen… but rarely did it last a full song.

Our last Christmas together, as we were figuring out new traditions (just for us) in order to adjust to “childless” Christmases, I told him that one new tradition I wanted was for him to dance one full song with me on Christmas. He actually laughed out loud, but he didn’t say yes or no. As for me, I knew how he functioned… I wasn’t going to get an answer. I would simply have to wait and see.

Christmas day came, and it was fun… There were gifts (of course), skyping with family, kayaking, drinks with the neighbors, and a (very) small traditional Christmas dinner. As we went into the bedroom for bedtime, I told him that I still wanted my dance. He smiled, nodded, and asked, “What song?”

I quickly put in Jim Brickman’s song, The Gift, since I’ve always told Bruce he was the best Christmas gift ever. He loved it. We danced with tears in our eyes – each of us overwhelmed by our love in that moment.
I will always treasure that dance. It wasn’t the last dance. (He actually danced with me repeatedly just a week later on New Years – all on his own.) However, this moment was private, tender… like dancing with my Prince Charming… and it ended in a kiss that I will always remember.

January 24, 2013

The story of the spoons… Oh my goodness! Keep in mind, this story is about two people who love each other, but also have a whole lifetime of living very different lives with very different ways of communicating.

So… I am a stuff person. Not like a hoarder, but I do like things that carry an emotional attachment (as long as each thing has a place where it belongs). Bruce, on the other hand, was a minimalist. (For the record, I’ve learned to find a balance between the two.) Keep in mind that when we married, I moved from my 3000 SQ Ft home to his 900 SQ Ft condo, which meant leaving most of what I owned behind. Now, take a moment and just let that sink in… As you could guess, there were times (in the beginning) when my invasion of “stuff” made him crazy.

On one such day, I came home from work to find him a wee bit crabby. On the counter, he had a long silver box, which he slid toward me as he asked, “What is this?”

“A Charleston rice spoon,” I replied warily – not quite sure where this was going.

“Do you need it?” he asked.

(Now, for those who aren’t familiar, a Charleston rice spoon is something every Charleston girl receives on her wedding day… It is tradition… It is a big deal.

“Yes,” I answered. “It means a lot to me. It is part of my heritage. It is traditional.”

He sighed. “Well, do you have to keep it in the kitchen?”

“It’s a spoon,” I answered, getting annoyed.

“Could you keep it somewhere else?” he asked with a bit of attitude.

“I guess,” I responded… At that point, the wheels started turning. Then, while he was in the shower, I removed every spoon from the kitchen and hid them in my dresser drawers. After all, if my spoon didn’t belong in the kitchen, then obviously no spoon belonged in the kitchen. Plus, all week, he had been talking about making French Onion Soup the next day.

“Let’s see him eat that with no spoon,” I thought to myself. “Ha!” (Yes, very petty and passive-aggressive – I am very much aware.)

The next day, I came home from work to find Bruce eating the soup with a measuring spoon. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“Eating my soup. It’s good. Want some?” he replied nonchalantly.

“Why are you eating using that instead of a real spoon?” I asked, chuckling to myself as I tried to keep a straight face.

“I think all the spoons are dirty,” he said. “This was all I could find.”

OH MY GOSH!! I laughed so hard at myself!! He never noticed the spoons were gone… or he didn’t really care. Either way, it didn’t phase him a lick.

He was always that way – totally oblivious to my drama! (Which I learned quite quickly to give up.) What a great man! I love him so much! I don’t think that will ever go away!!

“The friends that we have lost do not repose in the bosom of the earth, but are buried deep in our hearts, and it has been thus ordained that we may always be accompanied by them.”
~ Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

Peace, Love, and Grief… Love and Trust

Love is love is love…

I started writing this blog in January 20015. Bruce had been gone for two years, and I was still drowning in grief. However, because it had been two years, many people were subtly hinting that I should be over it… I should have moved on already. Grief, though, moves at its own pace. It doesn’t have an “off” switch. It requires time, but the amount of time varies. There are a lot of factors that are in play, mostly personal factors, which means the grief we experience is different for each person… even if you are grieving the same person.

So, on New Years Day 2015, I had an old acquaintance suggest that perhaps writing this blog would give me an outlet for my grief… So, here I am many years later, and this space really has become my safe place to express my feelings and share my journey.

It’s funny… There have been many times, I have thought about the fact that when I write about Bruce, he sounds perfect… like a saint… I even call him my hero. Honestly, the longer he is gone, the more perfect he becomes in my heart. Yet, to keep things honest, he was human. We had our disagreements. We even had an argument (or two). Yet even those not-so-great experiences were vastly different than any I had previously known.

First, in all our years together, I only saw Bruce lose his temper once, and it wasn’t directed at me. Someone he loved dearly had hurt him deeply. When he tried to talk about it, he couldn’t. Instead, I watched as the turmoil inside him bubbled over – he turned away from me, yanked the smoke detector out of the wall, slammed it on the counter, and stormed off to bed.

None of it was directed at me. I wasn’t hurt – simply startled… but of course, my own past experiences from my first marriage flooded my mind. In fact, it was the unhealed emotions created in both our pasts that created that moment.

Yet, there was something different that helped us work through it and come out stronger on the other side. What was that? Trust… We didn’t just love each other; we trusted each other – implicitly. That, I believe, is what made the difference. Neither of us ever expected the other to be perfect, (although, my memory tends to remember him that way). We simply needed honesty and accountability. We just needed the other person to be a loving, safe space to land when we felt lost.

Sometimes I wonder if my tendency to make him sound perfect is because of how things were between us when he died… For example, when he and I discussed our first marriages, we talked about the things that contributed to the end of those relationships – the hurt and the distrust. I think we remember the negative parts of those relationships the strongest because that was the state of those relationships when they ended.

However, when Bruce died, our relationship was good – filled with love, compassion, and trust… lots of trust…

Not once, in all the years we were together, did either of us ever push outside the boundaries of a disagreement. We might have taken breaks in the discussion to keep the conversation rational and focused on a peaceful outcome, but we always managed to come back together to discuss the topic at hand – listening closely to what the other one was saying… and not saying. We didn’t dredge up past mistakes or arguments, and neither of us ever got physical, or made any type of threat to leave the relationship. Both of us were all in, and willing to work at making things right for us and between us.

That was new for me. I think that is why it sticks out in my mind so clearly. I have been in so many relationships where manipulation and/or threats to leave are common versus truly working to come to a healthy space. Speaking from experience, those threats and manipulations do nothing but create distrust… They create a relationship that is not honest, but instead is out of balance and unhealthy for all involved.

I think that is why I talk about Bruce’s legacy of unconditional love. He exemplified everything I had always wanted to believe about love. He showed me that you can love someone and still be your own person. You don’t need to give up pieces of yourself in order for the other person to love you. Real love between two people creates a safe space for laughter and for disagreements, because it is a space filled with trust.

That is what I think I miss the most… that loving space with another person where we are both safe to be ourselves… in good times and in bad… And creating that space for us is why Bruce will always be my “perfect” hero.
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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. This year, my goal is to simply ‘be’… Be me, be kind, be compassionate, be loving, be hopeful… to just ‘be’ and to be comfortable with that… however it looks.