Peace, Love & Grief – Page 8 – There is a peace that comes with acceptance, and a love that is always remembered

Peace, Love, and Grief… Triggers

Can we talk about triggers today? Oh my gosh! Before Bruce died, I had no idea how many triggers there would be… There have been things that I would have never guessed would be a trigger, but they are. Do you know what I mean?

In the beginning, the triggers were everywhere – all around me and all the time.

If I saw a couple together holding hands or being affectionate – trigger! All I could think about was everything I was missing and would never have again.

If I saw a couple arguing – trigger! Didn’t they know how precious our time here is? That tomorrow isn’t guaranteed for any of us? Why would you waste even one moment being angry about something that probably won’t even matter tomorrow or be remembered in a year?

If I was walking through the grocery store and saw Bruce’s favorite beer – trigger! I couldn’t get past the knowledge that I will never again buy that beer for him or taste it on his lips.

If I was listening to the radio and “our song” (or any song attached to a special memory) came on – trigger! Such precious moments that are over and gone.

So… many… triggers!

As time has passed, the triggers are less frequent but not less intense. In fact, this last week or so, (for some crazy reason that only the Universe knows), has been filled with triggers.

It started with a book my boss loaned me. I didn’t know anything about the book. I had never heard of the book. I didn’t ask to borrow the book. She happened to bring it to me and simply said, “I just finished this and thought you would really connect with it.” So I read it.

At first, I didn’t quite understand what she thought I would connect with. The main character was only in her 20s, and that was a long time ago for me. However, as the storyline progressed, I realized this main character was in an abusive relationship. (I literally had to put the book down and pull myself together emotionally several times while reading.)

Yet, not only did I connect with the abusive portion and all that it entailed, there was also the hero in her life that offered her the safety of a loving relationship (just as Bruce did for me so many years ago). The book was great, but it took me several days to push down all the domestic violence memories and remind myself that I am safe now. (Although, admittedly, without Bruce I still struggle in that department.)

Then in the next book I was reading, one of the main characters had a heart attack, and that particular chapter was told from his viewpoint. For me, it felt like I was reading about Bruce’s death with Bruce telling me the story. I can’t lie… It was really hard to read, and the tears would not stop. All the memories of that night and my own feelings of failing him flooded back and filled my soul.

Later in the week, I was watching a movie with a friend. She warned me beforehand that there might be some parts that would trigger me. (Thank you, my friend!) But I wanted to watch it anyway. As the movie progressed, I slowly came to realize that the mother in the movie was dealing with a recurrence of breast cancer and was dying. (Yes, one of my fears.) At the point where it all becomes crystal clear, she is lying in her husband’s arms crying and telling him how scared she is… All he can do is hold her close and kiss her.

True, this never occurred between Bruce and I because I got cancer after he died. But I found myself feeling a little bit jealous that he was never able to do that. I needed him back then and would have given anything to have had his love and support when I went down that road. (Yes… I do realize that the movie is fiction and being jealous is silly. However, I cannot control how I feel, only what I choose to do with those feelings. So, I am just being honest here.)

And finally…

One evening this week, I was sitting in my reading chair (not reading). I was simply sitting there, looking at our space, and missing Bruce (a lot). I had been silent for quite a while. However, when I found myself looking at a picture of him fishing at the beach, I simply said out loud, “I miss you, Babe”. Suddenly, the Alexa in the kitchen started playing Jimmy Buffet’s song, “A Pirate Looks at 40”. (To clarify, JB was our favorite. We went to several concerts through the years, and spent many nights simply dancing barefoot to his tunes in the kitchen.) I didn’t know whether to smile or cry when it happened… so I did both. (I don’t know that this was necessarily a trigger as much as a comfort to my soul after all the other triggers, and I am so grateful for it.)

Honestly, I don’t think the triggers will ever stop being a thing. I also believe that time does help me manage those triggers better and better. For example, in the beginning, I had to wear sunglasses almost everywhere I went so people couldn’t see that I was crying. Now, I am pretty good at pushing the tears back, (or keeping them to a minimum), and moving on… waiting to contemplate whatever trigger happened later when I am alone to write it out and/or think it through. I can’t say dealing with triggers gets any easier with time, but I do think over time I am learning to work through them in a much more healthy way… which is a step in the right direction.
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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. 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.

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Peace, Love, and Grief… Remembering the Good

I can’t even begin to count the number of self-help books and articles I have read since Bruce died. I seem to always have one that I am reading and the next one waiting on the bedside table. In the beginning they seemed to all be about dealing with grief, and over time, that has grown into many “side” topics that still relate back to grief in some fashion (at least, for me). Shoot! Even when the topic has nothing to do with grief, I seem to always find some tidbit I can apply that helps my grief journey move forward, even if it is only a baby step.

When Bruce first died, all I could focus on was the fact that he was gone, and I was alone. Nothing else seemed to sink in… Nothing else mattered. Everything in my mind was centered on the absolute awfulness of the entire situation – all the years left to be alone, all the holidays and special moments that would never be… The future looked bleak… Life wasn’t supposed to be like this, and yet, this was all I could see.

Back then, I felt so lost, even prayer was something I couldn’t find the ability to do. People would say things to try to make me feel better, but I couldn’t hear the love in what they were saying. All I could hear was what felt like judgement or a complete inability to understand what I was going through. I can’t even tell you how many times I heard that I needed to learn to look for the positives in all this – to rejoice and be thankful.

Excuse me?? NO!! I couldn’t do that any more than I could bring Bruce back… (And believe me, if I could have done either of those things, I would have.)

As time has passed, I have learned a few things about this journey… They aren’t big. They are quite small, but for me, these have made a huge difference in my ability to navigate this path just a little bit better.

1. God never said to be thankful for all circumstances. The verse actually says to be thankful in all circumstances. In other words, this verse is meant to be a reminder to look for the blessings around us, even when we are in the middle of something awful… like grief. It was never meant to be used in judgement or to make us feel bad about where we are emotionally. It is simply a sign on the journey… a reminder… nothing more.

2. As time passes, I think less and less about that terrible night when Bruce died. I haven’t forgotten it… I will always remember every last detail. However, I don’t think about it all the time. Instead, I find myself remembering all the good times… all the sweet memories we built together… all the love I felt when we were together… That is where my mind goes these days.

3. And because that is now where my mind tends to stay, I am finally able to pray for God to help me accept what I have to accept… To understand that death is as much a part of this life as breathing. You see, as long as I was focused solely on the negatives, I couldn’t remember the good things, and I couldn’t vocalize that prayer. Yet, when I am focused on the good things, the negatives turn out to be not so powerful, and I can breathe.

I’m not sure where along the line things changed, but this week, I realized that I have finally come to a point where the good memories greatly outweigh the sadness at least 90% of the time. That’s pretty good, don’t you think? I mean, sure… It has taken me a while to get here… and I still have a ways to go… But in the meantime, I will celebrate and accept the joy of remembering the good, and be thankful that I am learning to accept what I have to accept.
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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. 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.

Peace, Love, and Grief… A Tribute to a Friend

I spent this morning with old friends back in SC celebrating the life of a fellow teacher… But not just any teacher. This teacher was a nun that started at our school not long after I started.

I wasn’t raised Catholic, so the only experience I had with nuns before that was from watching The Sound of Music. (Silly comparison, I know.) This dear, sweet nun, though, wasn’t like anything from Hollywood. (Thankfully!) She was her own dear, sweet person, and this particular dear, sweet nun meant the world to me. She touched my soul in ways I am still realizing years later. You know, they say you will likely never know the impact you have on others… I think that is so true. While she (sadly) isn’t here to read it, I wanted to write her a letter to tell her just how much she meant (and still means) to me…

Dear Sister,

Today, so many of us who love you gathered to celebrate your life. I can’t believe you are gone from us. As much as I know about death, I think there was a part of me that childishly thought you would always be here. When I learned of your passing months ago, I felt a hole open in my heart… A hole only you can fill. I cried then… and I cried today. It is hard to believe I will never again see your sweet smile or hear you say, “My love, my dove, my beautiful one.”

I didn’t know anything about nuns when I first met you. I thought nuns were supposed to be demure and passive. You, however, showed me something totally different. You showed me that a woman can love God and still be a strong force in this world. You knew what you believed in. You knew what you expected in others. You held all of us to a higher accountability… And we wanted to be there… I know I wanted that mainly because you believed I could.

I remember when it came to the kids you had high expectations around discipline. You did not mess around, and made your expectations known with no room for doubt. I can remember when the 8th grade boys were in trouble, they would beg to be sent to anyone but you… Not because you were cruel, but because none of us ever wanted to let you down. Yet, once discipline had been handled, it was over, and you once again called them “your love, your dove, your beautiful one”. Your love for each and every child (and the rest of us) was completely unconditional, (and we all knew that – there was no doubt). No matter what transpired, you always had a smile, and a hug for each and every one of us.

I remember times when you and I disagreed… But it was okay. You stated your thoughts and opinion, but you never tried to make me concede. It was a conversation with differing opinions – nothing more. (Or maybe you tried, but I was oblivious! LOL!)

Even when our family was splitting up, you were amazing. It was a hard time for our family, because divorce is hard – even when it is the right move. Ours also carried the weight of domestic violence and (still ongoing) threats. While your views were more conservative than mine, you were still supportive to me and loving to my children.

To this day, I still find myself sharing funny stories about our days teaching together and the many nuggets of wisdom you planted for all of us. While my faith journey has taken me in other directions, my faith and belief in God is still firm and you had a lot to do with that, because you were a perfect example of God’s love here on earth.

Thank you! Thank you for all you did so many years ago, and for all the seeds you planted that have helped me through the years. You were an amazing lady and I will always consider myself blessed to have known and worked with you on a daily basis for so long (and through such a hard portion of my life).

I love you, Sister! May you rest in the peace and love of our God – the God you served and loved so completely!
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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone… and some days, it can be just a little bit harder. I don’t think any of us wants to be on this path, but this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined. Each time I think I have it figured out; I find I don’t at all, despite the years since Bruce passed. This year has been filled to the brim with challenges, but my goal has been to learn to simply “be” – whatever that looks like in each moment.

Peace, Love, and Grief… Excited About Life

One of this week’s journal prompts asked the question, “When was the last time you were excited about life? (Beside yourself in anticipation)” When I first read the prompt, I interpreted “excited about life” as being equal to happiness. This seemed pretty simple – pretty easy. In fact, just last weekend, I celebrated Mother’s Day (early) with a few of my kids by spending the day at Universal. We always have such a blast together, and it was so much fun! (The only way it could have been better is if we all could have been there.) I was so happy…

But… is that the same as “excited about life”? I don’t think so… I remember a time when I was truly excited about life… There was a time when I couldn’t wait to see what the next moment held – when thoughts of tomorrow were filled with hope and wonder. I remember when I couldn’t wait to wake up in the morning, or when the promise of a day off was the best thing ever!

I remember all of that… The thing is I haven’t felt any of that since Bruce died. Shoot! It took me years just to learn how to let go and feel any kind of happiness again.

I could almost guarantee you that my family and friends were getting concerned that would never happen. However, thanks to them, it did… And more thanks to them, those happy times have become more and more frequent over time.

But “excited about life”?? … I’m not so sure about that.

When Bruce and I first met, I couldn’t wait for the next email, or text, or (even better) phone call. It made life exciting. My heart was over-flowing in anticipation. Then, there were our visits… We took turns flying back and forth every other week between MI and SC. I lived for those weekends together… He and I kept a running count-down between visits of how long until our next visit.

After we were married, that anticipation didn’t stop – although, the circumstances changed. Suddenly, there was no more counting the days… I only needed to count the hours. If Bruce got home from work first, he would always greet me at the door with a glass of my favorite wine. If I beat Bruce home from work, I would run/skip to the door, because I was so excited to see him. Then, that poor man had to drop everything, because I was coming in fast for a “welcome home” hug.

Also, because of working different shifts through the years, there were many times when we only had one day off together each week… Talk about a count-down. As soon as one day together ended, we were intent on planning the next one. We both lived for those days.

But then, Bruce died… And all of that ended…

After that, one day looked pretty much like the next… and the one after that – wake up, work out, go to work, come home, eat dinner, and go to bed… day after day. Weekends were a little different. Instead of going to work, I worked on stuff here at home… But in reality, pretty much the same.

I’ve written about it before… The hope was gone… The anticipation or excitement of life was completely and totally gone. In fact, at the beginning, I couldn’t even find the ability to be happy – anything more was an impossibility.

Things change, though… I know this. I did finally learn how to let myself be happy again, and I love those moments in my life. But, I had to work to get there. It wasn’t just a matter of time. I had to give myself permission to be happy. Then, I had to choose to be happy. That may sound silly , if you have never been there, but it was hard, intentional work! Between the grief, guilt, and sadness, finding happiness and allowing myself to feel it – I mean, really feel it – took time and great effort.

So… since I know happiness is possible, I have to assume that being excited about life, maybe even being beside myself in anticipation, must also be possible. All I have to do is believe… and work for it.
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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. 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.

Peace, Love, and Grief… When Things Get Tough

What a year! It is only May, and… WOW! 2023 has been rough… really rough… almost as hard as 2013, (the year Bruce died), but not quite.

I have lost so much this year. I have lost family, and I have lost friends… And my heart is ripped to shreds. I am almost to the point of never wanting to answer my phone or venture out into the world again, (but I am hanging in there for now).

I know this is just the way life is… In fact, I can’t tell you how many times I used to tell my kids, “life isn’t fair”, because it isn’t – not always. Sometimes, life is wonderful – full of promise and blessings. Other times, it is not… Sometimes it feels desperate and hard – like there is no way out… no light at the end of the tunnel. Yet, I know, somehow it all works out in the end… I just need to hang onto that.

While speaking to my counselor this week, I told her about the grief and depression, and how overwhelmed I feel lately. It has gotten so all-encompassing, I can’t seem to hold my focus on anything… Shoot, even in our short 30-minute session, I lost my train of thought three times (that I can recall), and she had to prompt me on what I was talking about. She was so kind and patient. Like a good counselor, though, she never tells me what to do or think… She simply states the facts back to me, asks great questions, and gives suggestions on how I might work through some of this.

I think this week’s struggles have had a lot to do with some not-so-good news I received last week. Nothing devastating or urgent. However, I definitely have some major decisions to make in the next few weeks and none of the options feel great. So, for now, I am in limbo, waiting… and praying that some small piece of wisdom enters my mind and puts my soul at peace with a decision.

Of course, through it all, you know what I have wished for, right? Yep… Bruce!

I wish he were here… I would give anything to feel his arms around me, telling me that whatever I decide, it will be okay… or to have his input… To hear him not tell me what to do, but to ask me the questions that allow me to walk through each possibility to determine which choice is right for me. He was always so good at that… Helping me look past what other people want or expect, and instead, focus on what I need with a clear understanding of how that choice may or may not affect others. Ultimately, though, making the choice that works best for me… God, how I miss that!

For now, I think “acceptance” is what I need to work on…

“Acceptance. That’s where many struggle. As long as they keep saying, ‘Life isn’t supposed to work like this,’ they’re stuck in their confusion and pain. Once they can say, ‘This is the way life is,’ they no longer need to answer the question.” ~ Cecil Murphy, My Parents, My Children

… To not worry and stress about what to do as much as remembering not to give up hope… To sit in the quiet and let go of all the worries that keep tumbling around in my head… And to know that the answers will come in their own time.
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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. 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.

Peace, Love, and Grief… My Love, My hero, My Healer

I missed last week. I was down in the Keys enjoying some time with a few of my kids. I apologize for no forewarning, but in today’s world, I believe it is a really bad idea to announce an empty house due to leaving town. I hope you understand.

This week, though, I would like to brag a little bit about the man I love, the man I call Bruce. I know… I brag about him a lot. I think that may be one of the pieces of the grief process. The longer they are gone, the more perfect they become… We forget the bad (although there wasn’t much of that) and seem to only remember the good (there was a lot of that). Who knows – maybe that is why we call them angels and saints?

Earlier this week, as I was scrolling through Face Book and watching the video shorts that pop up, there was one that caught my attention. It was a man by himself, talking to the camera with the premise that his audience was other cis men. So, of course, I watched it… Don’t ask me why. I don’t know, but I’m glad I did.

In the video, he was giving advice on love and listening. In it, he stated how important it is to listen to your partner, especially when she is upset and hurting. He talked about just holding her and letting her say all the things while she cries… big, ugly crying. (You know what I mean.) His advice wasn’t to try and fix anything. It was to simply listen and to love her through it. He talked about the importance of letting her just get it all out in a safe space – no fixing, no judging, no patronizing, no interrupting, no saying it would all be fine in the end – just listening and holding her and loving her. That was it!

… And I cried because that is exactly what Bruce did for me.

We both came into the relationship with baggage from our first marriages. He had a lot of hurt, and we talked about that many times. However, he had worked through a lot of his hurt, and he would talk about what he had learned the first time around. Plus, he and his ex were actually quite amicable with each other. (It was wonderful to see that is actually possible.) My first marriage, though, had been abusive, and I was still struggling with PTSD from the trauma in that relationship.

Bruce never failed me, though… Whenever something would happen that triggered a PTSD episode, he was there – holding me, listening to me, letting me do that big, ugly, crying thing.

I remember one time; my ex had just sent an email to me. There wasn’t much to it really – a few ugly sentences that didn’t make a lot of sense. But the trigger for me was mine and Bruce’s home address in the subject line. My ex, this man who had terrorized me and my kids for years, was tracking me… and he knew where I was… I was terrified.

Now, I know this probably sounds silly, but PTSD doesn’t exactly bring out the rational side of a person. I literally burst into hysterics and ran to hide in the bedroom. (Because that makes sense, right?) Anyway, I have no idea what Bruce must have thought at the time. I do know that he took a peek at the computer, and not only read the email, he also responded to it.

Then, he came into our bedroom where he found me hiding – crouched between the bed and the dresser. But he didn’t try to coax or pull me out… No… This wonderful man got down on the floor with me, and just held me and listened as I cried (okay – bawled) and tried to explain why I was so scared. Yep… I was a big, ugly, hysterical mess… And he simply sat there with me – listening to all of it without ever making me feel silly or ridiculous.

There were so may instances like this in the first few years of our marriage. However, as time went on, and he consistently let me work through all that crap while he held me tight, something magical happened. I started to heal. I got stronger. The PTSD reared its head less and less.

And what did I learn? Just as the guy in the video said, love (unconditional love) really can heal all kinds of wounds.

That’s my story… That’s what I have been thinking about this week: 1 – How much I miss his strong arms and the safety I found there, and 2 – How his love for me is the reason I am still here today.

Thanks, Babe! I love you – always and forever!
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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. 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.

Peace, Love, and Grief… Like the Tides

The day is almost done,
And once again,
My heart is breaking.
The clock chimes –
Each stroke – a reminder of every year that has passed.
Each birthday celebrated with an empty chair,
And no one to blow out the candles.
The tears slide down my face,
And yet, I smile as I remember you…
Your laugh,
Your grin,
Your sense of humor,
But mostly,
Your love.
Happy birthday to the man
Who was my hero and my heart.
You are not forgotten…
You are missed… and still loved.
~ Linda, 2023

Happy birthday, Babe! I can’t believe another birthday has come and gone without you here… I miss you so much!

As I sit here on the beach thinking of you, it has occurred to me how the seasons of our lives come and go – like the ebb and flow of the tides… (No wonder so many poets and songwriters use that phrase.) There is no effort extended – life just happens – the good… the bad… and the in-between.

This year has already included all of that (and we are only in April!). There has been new life to celebrate and deaths to mourn. There have been times filled with love and laughter, and other times of tears and rejection… and all the stuff in the middle. You know… the normal everyday stuff that we tend to forget even though it probably fills up most of our days.

I miss sharing all of that with you… I miss laughing with you and crying with you… But mostly I miss all the in-between, normal, doing nothing with you.

Today I keep thinking about all those birthdays we spent with your folks. What a fun time! I miss that! We didn’t do a lot – the beach during the day and chilling with your folks at night… And yet, it was some of the best “doing-nothing” times that I can remember.

Then, we moved here, where the beach is practically in our backyard. (Well, not quite – but close enough!) Once we were settled, “doing-nothing” at the beach became our Sunday routine… God, how I miss that!

“Becoming still, I reflect on life-giving space to thoughts, memories, feelings, and ideas of where I have been and where I want to go.”

~ Daily Word, December 21, 2022

The thing is, I am still trying to figure out the “where I want to go” part. I am trying though, more than I ever have… I am “getting out and doing” as much as I am “staying put and not doing”. Honestly, though, I’m not too worried about any of it. After all this… if there is one thing I know, it is the fact that life has a way of placing us exactly where we need to be when we need to be there…. I just have to remain open to it… and all the possibilities.

This year has already held a lot of losses for me. I grieve what I have lost, which turns around and makes me grieve for you, too. What I wouldn’t give to feel your arms around me, reminding me that I am loved and it will all be okay.

I know, the more I sit here and write today, the more I start to feel sorry for myself, but I shouldn’t! I have been and continue to be so incredibly blessed… I have great friends. I have a wonderful family (both yours and mine) who love me, and rally around me when I need it… And you… I had you, Babe, and all the wonder and magic you brought into my life. Even now, I relish the precious memories day in and day out.

Thank you for that… and for still being my strength in one of the hardest years since you died.
I love you, Babe – now and forever!

I have been a long time on my own now.
I still hate it.
I miss your touch –
The gentle caresses that said, “I love you.”

I miss your smile and laughter –
The look in your eye that reminded me
Not to take life so seriously.

I miss your arms –
The way you held me close and
Made my fears and insecurities melt away.

I miss your friendship –
The unconditional love and acceptance you always put forward,
Which encouraged me to just be me.

In other words…
I miss you, Babe,
And I think I always will.
~ Linda, 2023

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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. 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.

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

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Peace, Love, and Grief… Self-care

Since you died,
Life often feels like a board game,
With no rules or directions.
I am just a playing piece…
A token
And I have no idea where to move,
Or what the goal is anymore.
Someone roles the dice
And I move through the days,
But it just isn’t fun anymore.
~ Linda, 2023

I missed last week… I apologize for not saying anything beforehand. However, as life happens, I didn’t know how last weekend would turn out. You see, I have been traveling a lot this year, and as we all know, life has a way of catching up with us. By Sunday, I was absolutely exhausted, and simply needed a little self-care…

Self-care… there’s a word, I believe more of us need to be told about (or reminded of) from the beginning of this journey. Self-care is defined as “anything you do to take of yourself so you can stay physically, mentally, and emotionally well.” * In fact, “research suggests self-care promotes positive health outcomes, such as fostering resilience, living longer, and becoming better equipped to manage stress.” *

Now, I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t raised to think about or do self-care. In fact, the subliminal message was that self-care was selfish and indulgent. Like many other women, my role, as a wife and mother, was to take care of everyone else’s needs first. With a large family, my days started before the sun came up and ended sometime around midnight (give or take an hour or so). Everyday there was laundry to do, carpools to run, meals to fix, a house to clean, pets to tend to, and a family to care for. Then, when I started working as a teacher, lesson plans, grades, and work time were all added in, as well.

I know… nothing that the rest of the world isn’t doing, also… And honestly, I wasn’t complaining because I didn’t know any different. It was what my mother had done and her mother before her… But good grief, how unhealthy!

It wasn’t until I met Bruce that I learned what self-care was – only he called it “balance”. Whatever you call it, it was heavenly! He believed in everyone pulling their own weight at home… Suddenly, it didn’t all fall on my shoulders. That meant we worked as a family, so that we could play and relax as a family. He also was a stickler for an early bedtime. Admittedly, this took me a while to adjust to, but once I did, I have never gone back to those crazy hours from before. Like me, he was also a health nut, so eating healthy foods and working out was simply a way of life…

And all of that was… (you guessed it) … self-care!

Self-care became woven into the rhythm of our life, and I was thriving… Then, Bruce died… And suddenly, I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t care if I was dead or alive… Life just seemed empty and hollow. All of that self-care seemed to be one of the first things I lost on this journey.

I stopped sleeping… I barely ate… and in no time, I was gaunt, depressed, isolating, and (extremely) unhealthy. I remember a few people telling me to take care of myself. I think I smiled and nodded in response, but I was so far down the rabbit hole, I wasn’t even sure what they meant anymore.

One of the few things I continued to do, though, was run. I love to run… It clears my head, gets my blood pumping, and reminds me I am alive… So I ran… a lot. (I still do, actually.)

My biggest challenge, though, was (and still is) sleep. Here, I had a multifaceted problem…

1. I had to learn how to sleep alone. Bruce and I had spent our years together sleeping in each other’s arms. Now, suddenly, there were no arms… no warm body to cuddle up to.
2. For the 1st few years, I would wake up several times a week at the exact time Bruce had died. (I know that is probably a trauma response, and now it only happens occasionally.)

Thankfully, through the years, I have kept the consistent bedtime, and tried all kinds of other things to help me sleep. However, this particular area is still a work in progress for me.

Another huge challenge for me was food… eating to be more specific. I just wasn’t hungry… Nothing had any taste. (I’m pretty sure, this too was a shock response.) I remember my mother telling me to just eat a baked potato or a PBJ… Anything to get some food in my belly, I suppose. Yet for me, food was always a social event, and now, it was a solo event. I just didn’t think or even care about eating – that is until my daughter and grandson moved in. Just like that, having others in the house who needed to eat changed my own habits. Once again, eating became a family event, and healthy food found its way back into my world.

Of course, that wasn’t all of it. I had a lot of trauma and depression to work through. In fact, these are things I am still working on (and making steady progress, I might add). Besides counseling, I have also added meditation, gardening, writing, painting, yoga, and numerous other activities to my days throughout the years. Each of these has contributed to building up my mental and spiritual health, as well.

And… this year, I have pushed myself out the door… no more isolating or hiding in my house. I have found a church, a women’s group, and some local classes, as well as traveling… Which brings us full circle to the reason for my absence last week. I had just returned home and desperately needed a day to do absolutely nothing… Just a day of self-care.

So… if you (like me) are struggling with remembering (or knowing) how to take care of yourself in your grief, please… please… keep trying or give it a try. Don’t quit on yourself. You are worth it, I promise!

Start with baby steps… find one area where you can make a positive change… maybe it’s eating or sleeping… maybe it’s learning to laugh again… maybe it’s learning to get back out into the world and being social… Or maybe you have been keeping extra busy to avoid the emotions of grief… maybe some of us need to slow down… Give yourself permission to rest… or to simply feel what you feel.

Each of us is different, so I can’t say what you need, but you know… just as I knew. That’s why this is a journey…

So then, my prayer for all of us this week is that we might reflect on our lives, embrace who we are, and envision what we desire in our lives… Then, take the steps (as slowly as we need) to get there.

Note: If you have found things that have helped you with your self-care, let’s share them with each other this week. What a wonderful way to support each other on this path!

* everydayhealth.com
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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. 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.

Peace, Love, and Grief… The Guardians

“People who extend compassion to us act as guardians of our soul… Though our journeys may leave us broken and burdened, we remain thoroughly beloved.” ~ Frank Rogers Jr., Compassion in Practice

Last week, I wrote about the heroes in my life… Those people who have held me up and supported me along this journey – some without ever knowing it and often in the most simple ways. Then, this week in my meditations, I came across the quote above.

YES! That is exactly what I was trying to say… These heroes have been the guardians of my soul throughout this whole process. I can’t even begin to tell you how much their presence – their compassion – has saved me… has pulled me away from the edge and reminded me that life is still a good thing… a thing worthwhile… My life is still worthwhile… even without Bruce. Their compassion has been my lifeboat in this storm, and I am forever grateful.

And here’s the other part of that story…

We can only give from what we have, right? I can’t give away a million dollars because I don’t have a million dollars. The same goes for love… and compassion… If I don’t have those, I can’t give them to others… And to have those, someone must have given them to me, as well.

These are the things that make the world a better place. They are free and simple to offer to others, IF we have also been offered them. They can take the form of a simple smile or hello when we pass a stranger. They can take the form of simply listening… not just to the words spoken, but also to the words unspoken. It can also mean understanding that when someone does not have love or compassion to offer, it is because that person is also missing it from their own soul.

When Bruce died, my world changed… a lot… That daily dose of love and compassion diminished greatly. My family was hundreds of miles away, and because we had not lived here for very long, our circle of friends was small and still in the just-getting-to-know-you stages.

At this point, every drop of compassion, no matter where it came from, was precious to me… like the beacon from a lighthouse when the storm is raging around you. This is what I truly want the heroes out there to know… Your love… your compassion, no matter how small or seemingly inconsequential, had an impact. It left an impression on my soul. Like a beautiful piece of art, that love and compassion became something so wonderful I had to share it… I had to pass it on.

I think sometimes we forget how much the love and compassion of others affects us… affects the world, actually, as we share it with others on our path. And here’s the thing, there will be times when we don’t have it to give – like many of us when we are lost in grief. However, sometimes all it takes is that one smile… that one hug… that one moment of compassion offered that can change everything. I wish I had the words to express how much compassion – simple unwarranted compassion – offered in those moments affected me and changed the whole trajectory of my journey.

Thank you!

There will also be times when we offer compassion, but the other person is too lost or too empty to receive it. Their response may be one of not noticing… contempt… or even anger. That is all okay… It isn’t on any of us to ‘fix’ anyone else or to make them feel a certain way. None of us has the power to do any of that. It is simply on us to offer compassion to each other. Maybe it comes in the form of ignoring rude or ugly words… Maybe it is in the form of walking away from a contentious situation… Either of those is actually offering even more compassion for their situation. Who knows… maybe in time, their tank will refill. Either way, the results are not on us… Offering compassion is the only thing that is on us.

And one more thought…

When our soul is stripped bare, not only are we unable to offer love or compassion to others… we can’t even offer it to ourselves. It becomes so easy to fall down the rabbit hole of self-loathing or feelings of not being enough… Depression can so easily sneak in and sit beside us and pull us down even further.

But… when our tanks of love and compassion refill, we are not only able to offer these to others, we are also able to offer them to ourselves. Self-care and self-compassion can take root in our lives and even spill over into others’.

I love that! I love the fact that because so many others had extra to give, now I do too! I am learning to offer love and compassion to myself, as well as those I encounter day to day.

So… to all those heroes who knowingly (or unknowingly) became the guardians of my soul… Thank you!! Thank you for caring about me and for being the emissaries of love and compassion to my heart… You really are my heroes, and you have been the guardians of my soul… You have shown me that I am worthy of love and compassion when I forgot it myself… You have helped me learn to not only live life again, but to offer the same to others… And I love you dearly!

“Receiving their love replenishes the reservoirs out of which our own compassion flows toward others.” ~ Frank Rogers Jr., Compassion in Practice

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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. 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.

Peace, Love, and Grief… My Heroes

I am well aware that I spend a lot of time talking about the challenges of grief and being a widow. I am sure it can come across as “poor me”, but that really isn’t my mindset.

Sure… Being a widow sucks… Losing Bruce sucks… I have my hard days/moments when I hate this whole thing and can feel pretty sorry for myself. You see, there are definite scenarios that most people who grieve have (or will) encounter… and some are not so good. I write a lot about these… Not to go on a pity rant, but to share my experiences week to week in an attempt to help anyone in the same boat know that their own experiences/thoughts/feelings are all “normal”. (As if anything about grief is “normal”.)

Personally, I remember when I started on this journey, I needed to hear other people’s stories, in order to make sense of my own. That is why I write this. So, I hope that makes sense.

That being said, today I want to talk about something a little bit different… I want to talk about the many heroes I have encountered on this journey… If nothing else, it can serve as a reminder to look for the positives, right?

There were heroes sent to me from the very beginning. First, there was the police officer who drove me to and from the hospital that awful night. He was young, and I can’t even imagine if he ever had to drive someone in a similar situation to the hospital. Did he already know Bruce was dead? Given that we waited for him to arrive to our home before the ambulance left for the hospital, I would guess – yes. Besides, I know he heard me calling my parents from the backseat and saying, “I think Bruce is dead.” I don’t remember much more about that ride.

However, I do know he walked me into the ER and explained who I was, because I was in shock. Then, he sat with me… the entire time I was at the hospital, he stayed close by – a strong, secure, quiet presence… I didn’t know it at the time, but I needed that. And when he finally drove me back home, he took his time, and gave me some safety advice about living alone… my “new normal”.

The next few heroes on this path were the family and friends who came as soon as they got the message. I remember my boss, at the time, was the first one here (at 3 am). I don’t remember any of our conversation, but I know she stayed with me until my son arrived several hours later.

Then, the rest of my family and Bruce’s family all arrived within the next several hours… (Heroes – all of them!) And from the moment she arrived, my dear sweet sister never left my side. She slept with me those first several nights and held me (or my hand) – simply to remind me that I wasn’t alone… I didn’t need to do this alone.

There is also Bruce’s family… Everything I have read says to expect the spouse’s family to eventually fade out of your life. I love them so much and was terrified of losing that connection. But no…Through the years, they have remained fiercely by my side – reminding me constantly that they are my family too… And I am theirs.

Through the years, there have been heroes who have held me up – some without ever knowing it and others in the most simple of ways, such as a kind message of love and encouragement. For example, one of my fellow teachers from my school in SC has consistently sent me messages of encouragement and reminders that I remain always in her prayers. I thank God for her… Those messages have gotten me through some truly rough days.

There are also people I supervised years ago in Michigan who sent me a “comfort blanket” last year. It has become my absolute favorite, snuggle blanket. I am all about textures, so when I am down, I find great comfort in it’s warmth and softness, as I remember that I am loved.

Of course, no list would be complete without mentioning my kids and my grandson. With the exception of one of my daughters (who happens to live in another country and I talk to weekly), all the rest live within an hour or two. All of them never fail to hold me up on those tough days, like holidays and anniversaries. If I want to be alone, they respect that. If I need company, they are happy to be here. Either way, they make sure I know I am loved… That means the world to me!

There are also my work friends, who are always willing to give me a big bear hug whenever needed. As well as my FB friends whose motivational posts can usually touch my heart when it is most needed. I even have one friend who is currently sharing her mental health journey. She was one of my first mentors in the corporate world, and here she is again leading with her own courage… And I am paying attention.

Finally, there are the people who have no idea what they mean to me… This includes my new woman’s group, my therapist, and so many others… You know what I mean – those people who never knew Bruce, but who genuinely care about me as a woman and where my heart is.

I think that is it… Not the end of the list, (because I am sure I have left off so many more)… But that is the point… These people… All of these people genuinely care about me and where my heart is… I am so thankful for and to each person who has supported me when I couldn’t support myself. All of you who have been patient in helping me learn to live life again. Each and every one of you is my hero… And I love you dearly!
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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. 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.