Tag: grief

Peace, Love and Grief… Surviving another holiday…

Things I Never Thought
I never thought I would live without you…
but I do.
I never thought I would spend a holiday alone…
but I have.
I never thought I would celebrate life’s joys alone…
but I will.
I don’t know what I am supposed to learn from all this…
but I keep searching.
There must be something…
I just need to find it
~ Linda, October 1, 2013

As I write this, I am facing another holiday weekend (alone)… ugh. That probably sounds a bit cynical, but I really don’t feel guilty about saying it. It’s honest, and I am sure there are a lot of other people on this path who completely understand. Let me explain.

The first year after Bruce died, I didn’t “do” the holidays. I ignored them, even if it meant escaping somewhere to get away from the world’s excitement. It may sound silly, but I couldn’t face the holidays so I ran away. What made it so hard? Bruce and I had finally adjusted to our own new, “empty nest” traditions. That was a hard transition for both of us… family had always been the center of our holidays and celebrations. When he died so unexpected, I couldn’t handle anything else… I couldn’t rethink new traditions and the old ones didn’t fit anymore, so I gave myself permission to NOT participate… I wasn’t ready.

Last year, I celebrated most of the holidays with my kids or other family. It was hard without Bruce but I managed to smile, and I did find joy somewhere in each one. I say “most” because life happens and there have been a few celebrations that I spent alone, such as Bruce’s and my birthdays, a promotion at work and some smaller holidays. Spending those days alone is hard no matter how much you try to remain positive… even when you understand why you are alone. This holiday weekend is another one that finds me alone… and struggling with my emotions.

I did manage to pull out a couple of Easter decorations for the foyer so if someone peeks inside it at least appears festive. But that is as far as I went… no baskets or eggs. Okay… I admit (with some guilt) to buying a box of Peeps and a bag of Easter corn because they are my favorites. : )

For me, the trick seems to be trying to navigate the world’s excitement while at the same time trying to balance my own emotions and loneliness. I try to tell myself that it’s just a day, but I can’t lie. It’s a harder struggle than I would have ever imagined. I want to be excited, but about what? There is no family around, no traditions to share, no one to laugh with or talk to… the weekend ahead seems more daunting than promising.

I wish with all my heart Bruce was still here beside me, but I know that will never be again… not in this lifetime. I would especially love to talk to my grandmothers. I ache for their wisdom and advice… How did they do this? One of my grandmothers spent over 40 years on her own and the other one outlived her husband by more than 20 years. How did they survive this? Where did they find the strength? Did they hurt like this, too? I would give anything to know… to listen and to learn from them.

I wish I had answers this week but I don’t. However, I would like to share one thing that I will do this holiday weekend. It is my own new tradition that allows me to still include Bruce in every holiday and every celebration. (I did not make this up myself… It is someone else’s idea that I found somewhere, but I love it, I have used it, and I want to share it.)

I use a frame filled with pictures of Bruce and I together and place 6 candles in front of it. Then, I read the following, lighting the candles as I go:

We/I light 6 candles in honor of you.
1. This candle represents our/my grief. The pain of losing you is intense. It is a reminder of the depth of our/my love for you.

2. This candle represents our/my courage – to confront our/my sorrow, to comfort each other and to change our/my lives.

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

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

5. This candle is the light of hope. It reminds us/me of love and memories of you that are ours/mine forever.

6. This candle is the light of eternity – for the day when we /I will see you again, in all God’s glory. We will be together again. We will have healthy, whole bodies and can explore the wonders of heaven together.

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

holidays with Bruce

This week I have only shared my thoughts and experiences – there is no real insight or direction. Because this is OUR community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. I know I would LOVE to hear how others have handled their holidays. 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… How to “get over it”

So Tired

Sometimes I am so tired of thinking;
I keep my thoughts busy to avoid thinking of you.
But that is exhausting…
Will I ever be able to rest;
To just sit … and not spiral down?
I am so tired… so very tired.
~ Linda, March 13, 2015

Do you remember as a kid thinking that when you grew up, you would get to do things your way? No more doing what everyone else told you to do. You would be free! Then what happened? Exactly – you grew up and learned right away that you were wrong… absolutely and completely wrong. Well, grief is like that, too. Before it happens, you think you know what it will be like and how it should be handled. Then… horribly, you learn how very wrong you were. Grief is NOTHING like the world portrays it to be.

When Bruce passed, people were surprised to find me returning to work after 2 weeks. I don’t know if that is strange or not… it was what I needed to do. After 1.5 weeks, I found myself alone and overwhelmed with emotions. I knew enough about myself to know that being alone was not going to be good for me. It was way too quiet. I was sitting at home, staring at the four walls, and all I could think about was Bruce and everything that was now gone. I felt myself spiraling further and further down each day. I knew I needed to be around people. I needed to go back to work. Why work? I needed to go somewhere each day that had not involved Bruce. I needed something in my life that was familiar and not filled with grief – something “normal”… not the “new normal” that everyone kept calling this life without Bruce.

My office is an hour away from our home plus there is very tight security there, so one gets in who doesn’t belong there. That meant, work was a place that held absolutely NO memories of Bruce… he had never been there. I needed that space… at least for a small part of the day. I needed this space that was not filled with grief. Staying busy seemed like a good idea. However, I soon found that I needed to deal with the emotions and grief – I couldn’t ignore them forever. So, I also joined a grief therapy group. I wanted to “get better”… I wanted to “get over it.” You see, I was still under the common assumption, that there are “stages of grief.” Therefore, I just needed to work my way through them and get on with life.

However, there were a few things wrong with this notion. First, those “stages” are actually the stages of dying… while people grieving DO experience a lot of those same emotions, they don’t necessarily fall in any type of order. And many times, they circle back and repeat themselves… over and over. I would find myself thinking I was past a stage only to find myself right back in the same spot weeks later. As I have said before, grief is maddening. It is chaos; there is no rhyme or reason. I soon came to realize that it cannot be handled by a checklist of stages. Since I am a checklist kind of person THAT was hard to accept. Everything I thought I knew about grief was wrong.

Since my experience with grief was not anything like I thought it should be, I began to think there was something wrong with me. Because some of the people around me had the same or similar ideas about grief, they unwittingly reinforced the idea that I must be doing something wrong… why couldn’t I just “close the door on that chapter of my life and move on?”

Thankfully, I also have other people in my life who knew better. They are the reason I am still here… I could not have come this far without them. They were friends. They were co-workers. They were family members… there were even a few strangers in the mix. But more than anything, they were my life-line. They listened. They gave hugs. They held me when I cried, and they were honest about what this grief journey would be like. I needed that… I still do.

I have learned so much about grief in the last two years. In fact, EVERYTHING I thought I knew was wrong. Since it is the purpose of this blog, I’d like to share a little bit of what I have learned.

First and foremost,
1. No two people will have the same experience.
2. Don’t try to compare your grief journey with anyone else’s. (For questions – see #1.)
3. There is no specific amount of time allowed for grief. (For questions – see #1.)
4. Be kind to yourself. Do what you need to do for YOU – not what everyone is telling you to do. (For questions – see #1.)
5. There is no right or wrong way to do this. (For questions – see #1 – 4.)

Despite the intended humor above, I AM trying to make a point. The point is:
No one knows what you need except you. So do THAT… do what you need to do.

I am well aware that there are still people quick to judge and voice an opinion on how I choose to move through this process. For those people, I have to make a choice. I can either:
1. Accept their opinions with a smile (but still ignore it).
2. Make the attempt to help them understand, OR
3. Let them go… This is especially difficult because you are already dealing with loss and who in their right mind would want to deal with more loss? (However, if it reaches unhealthy levels, letting go may be necessary.)

Only you can decide which choice is best… and it will be a different choice with different people.

Once I finally understood all this my question became, “Okay, I am doing all of that… now how much longer? At what point will I get over this? When will this stop?” I hated the answer when I heard it, but deep down I already knew it.

The answer is never… at least not entirely. There is no “getting over it.” That is a terrible myth that creates a lot of unnecessary pain. Try to understand – there is not a switch that can be turned on or off. (Don’t we wish it were that easy?) My understanding from those who are ahead of me on this journey is that as time passes, you learn to live with it… You learn to function around it. It will shape your life in new ways, but ultimately, it will always be a part of who you are.

For a “checklist” person like me, THAT has been a bitter pill to swallow. But experience is teaching me that it is true. I am learning to “dance” with my grief, if you will… to accept what it brings day to day (good or bad) and work through it. I am learning what works well for me and what will pull me down. But the biggest thing I am learning is that I AM moving forward, even if it is baby steps.

This may not be the answer you were looking for when you read the title, but it is the honest answer. There are no empty promises here – only the acceptance of where each person is on this path.

Because this is OUR community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences. 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… Be still and know…

My heart struggles to reconcile itself with what my mind knows is real.
~ Linda, October 24, 2013

Last week I said that grief is a maddening experience. It is. It is a time of struggle and emotional chaos as I try to make sense of something that just doesn’t make sense. Everything I thought I knew is gone. I have to relearn how to live. THAT is maddening… THAT is grief.

Each person experiences this differently and has to find their own way… no two are alike. For me, my grief journey ran parallel to my spiritual journey. But since I only have one life… isn’t it all the same? It isn’t like I can travel two paths at once. I learned rather quickly that I am on one path… it is called “life” and it includes many lessons. It is up to me to explore each one and to bring them all together in a way that makes sense for me. This is MY life… this is MY path. This is how I am learning and growing as I work to bring my heart and mind together to create a spirit of peace and love.

From the very beginning, despite my anger and distrust toward God, a certain verse kept running through my mind. This verse has never had any special significance for me in the past, so I have no logical way to explain why it was there… I won’t even try. I simply believe I needed to hear those words in order to survive.

“Be still and know that I am God.”

I wrote them in my journal. I mulled over them in the quiet moments. They were a constant in the back of my mind. And despite my anger, I couldn’t make them go away. There was something there for me – I felt it. I was looking for comfort… something to bring peace to my soul. I came to believe that the secret was somewhere in these words. It was… but probably not in the way most people might think.

It wasn’t about church or religion. It wasn’t about “do’s” and “don’ts.” It was so much deeper than that.

I grew up in the church, directed church choirs, taught Sunday School and even taught in a parochial school for years. God and religion had always a part of my life. However, many years ago, (before Bruce passed away), I chose to walk away from organized religion and seek my own spiritual path to God. It has been a long road. It’s probably no surprise, but Bruce’s death really tried my faith in so many ways that I almost walked away from my faith completely. But his life, his death and the struggles that followed have led me to a faith that I know without a doubt is completely mine. It is not based on what others tell me to think or do. It is not based on rules. It is much more simple. It is merely a philosophy and a way of living my life with God as my source of energy.

I know it may sound crazy. After all, how can spiritual matters be so simple? But I came to this point by watching Bruce and reflecting on how he lived such a genuine life with no pretense… no games.

You would not find Bruce at church on a Sunday morning. Nope… On Sundays, you could find him sitting in his lounge chair with his coffee and his Sudoku watching Meet the Press. But I have never known anyone to live a life more true to the principles of God, acceptance and unconditional love. He was not a complicated man. He had a sweet, gentle spirit and a simple faith. I watched him place a cross in his pocket each morning and heard him pray every night. Then he just lived what he believed – no sermons or lectures, no push for anyone to think his way. He just lived it. To him, it was that simple.

So back to those words that kept going through my head, “Be still and know that I am God.” I kept trying to figure out what I needed to get out of those words. For a long time after Bruce died, I couldn’t even pray… I was too angry. I didn’t want to be still, and I certainly didn’t want to “hear” anything from God. (I wasn’t interested in anything he might have to say.)

One day, though, while reading one of Bruce’s books on philosophy and spiritualism, it hit me. This verse doesn’t say anything about God talking or me listening. It simply says to be still. It was describing meditation – a practice of sitting quietly, breathing deeply and purposely NOT thinking. It is about clearing your mind; not filling it. It is an age old practice of simply being in that specific moment. Then letting your breath carry you to the next moment and then the next.
That was exactly what I needed… to slow down… to be still. As I started a daily practice of meditation, my anxiety lessened and my peace grew. By learning to be still, both physically and mentally, I learned to reconnect to my God. But this time it is different… it is a connection of spirit and peace. It is not about rules or being good enough… those aren’t even concerns. As Wayne Dyer says, it is about the fact that I am “a spiritual being having a physical experience; not a physical being having a spiritual experience.”

Through those quiet, still moments, I have learned to let go of my anger. I am learning to trust God again. I believe that he is my Source, and this life as we see it, is not all there is. There is more… so much more.

Do I believe everyone thinks this way? Of course not.

Do I think they should? That’s not my call… it is up to each person how they choose to think and live.

However, if you are struggling with grief or loss, meditation may be a simple way to regain a part of your life. It has nothing to do with religion… These practices are a physical exercise like running or walking.

So how will it help? Meditation and deep breathing have been proven scientifically to reduce anxiety and stress. People use it everyday, including performers, therapists, etc. In fact, one of the big quotes making the rounds today is “Just breathe.” Why? Because it is true… it works.

When we suffer the loss of anything important or significant in our lives, (even when we know logically it may be for the best), our anxiety goes up. Physically, it means our blood pressure goes up, our adrenaline goes up and the flow of blood to our brain goes down. Our ability to focus and think rationally decreases. Does this happen to everyone? In varying degrees, the answer appears to be yes.

For me, meditation has been invaluable. It has helped me to regain peace, focus and composure, even on those “bad” days when the grief is more than I think I can bear. All I need to do is breathe… meditate… and just let go.

I have learned to be still and know…

Peace…

 

This is my story but this is our community… the place to share our experiences. To share your story or thoughts, please go to the comments and leave a note, comment or question.

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.

Peace, Love and Grief… Something unexpected

Happiness is not a destination;
It is a way we can choose to travel on this journey called life.
~ Linda, September 29, 2013

Originally I had a completely different idea for this week’s blog. However, as you know, life takes its own path and has presented something new this week. Since this blog is about sharing my journey, openly and honestly, this is something I feel compelled to share.

Last week I talked about the different emotions we all encounter on this journey. Up until now, those emotions have come in waves… sometimes as tsunamis. Some days I am drowning and other days I manage to stay afloat. This week, however, was completely different… a complete surprise.

I started keeping a journal when Bruce passed away, I think my entry this morning, may be the best way to share this week’s experience with you…

Hi Babe,

A few tears last night and this morning… I miss you. I wish you were still here. I rearranged the pillows on the bed last night so I could try to sleep in our “snuggle” position. It helped a little… but your breathing was missing, your body heat was missing and the way you would pull me close and gently stroke my arm and back were missing. Actually, it was all missing…

I’m glad I went to the grocery store last night so I don’t have to go anywhere today. Three weeks of steady, non-stop go go go… I need a day to get out of my head and into my soul to reconnect with me. There is so much going on right now. I need today so I can slow down and regroup. I have been traveling so much and today I need to be in our space. I need some space and time to cry and write and think about us. I miss you… I miss us. This is one of those days when I just want my life back.

(Up to now, this probably sounds familiar doesn’t it? Ever have those days? Keep reading; this is the good part!)

I’ve actually had a whole week of good days! Seven days in a row – THAT is a first!! : ) I think that is progress. I still missed you everyday; I still thought about you constantly, but I wasn’t crying – there was a peace and even happiness with myself. It’s hard to explain… it wasn’t a “happy-go-lucky, love-that-all-this-happened” kind of happiness. It was more of a “I-like-the-direction-I-am-taking-with-my-life” kind of happiness. I can’t change what has happened, but I can create something good out of something bad and THAT is a miracle.

Does that even make sense? So many times there is a guilt associated with being happy – as if I am never allowed happiness again in this lifetime… but that isn’t me. Before you died, I was a very happy person… Shoot, I am a happy person – it’s just part of who I love to be. However, whenever someone has said, “You’re doing so well.” I have felt guilty. I want to say, “No, wait!” I have felt the need to explain that was really not accurate… I still cry… a lot… just not in front of everyone. I’m not really “doing so well.” I’m just better at keeping it to myself.

No more guilt. I am thankful for the days when I feel good. I don’t need to worry if that is “okay” with someone else or what they think of it. It doesn’t matter if they understand that “happy” has a slightly different meaning now. It is good for me, and I know you want me to be happy… Heck, you did everything in your power to make me happy every moment we were blessed to spend together.

I do still miss you and I do still cry. (Today is one of those days.) But it’s okay to feel happy again. It takes nothing away from us, who we were or how much I still love you… It’s a good thing.

I love you, Babe! Always and forever! xxxooo

This was a first for me… to be blessed with so many good, genuinely happy days in a row. I never thought this would happen for me, and I bet there are a lot of people out who have either been here or are still waiting. Either way, if this is to be a community where we share our experiences in order to help each other, then don’t hesitate to share yours. Please, go to the comments and leave a note, comment or question.

Also, while this blog is weekly, I have added a Facebook page of the same name for daily motivations. Just something quick and fast to lift our souls.
www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief