anniversary of loss – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love, and Grief – The Worst Night Ever

This is “the” weekend… The anniversary of Bruce’s death. Although the word “anniversary” feels wrong. It is usually used to signify a celebration of some kind, and this coming day is anything BUT a celebration. For over a week now my emotions have been a roller coaster between rough moments and less rough moments… (if that makes sense). One minute I am okay and the next I can’t stop the memories of that night, and the tears pour uncontrollably down my cheeks.

While I have shared this story many times before, it seems appropriate to share the story of that night one more time… Plus I can’t seem to think about anything else. Please bear with me… Some of my memories of that night are quite foggy while others are as sharp as if it all just happened.

I remember waking up shortly after midnight. We were still snuggled up, but Bruce sounded like he was having a nightmare. I remember trying to wake him up. I called his name and shook him hard several times. As I reached across him to turn on the bedside lamp, he seized up, then suddenly went limp. I was frozen for a moment – not quite sure what to do. My instinct was to call 911. However, I also knew if I was over-reacting, he would not be happy with me. He always hated attention. (Keep in mind, this debate in my own mind took less than half a second.)

I called 911.

I remember talking to the dispatcher while racing to open the front door for the EMS crew. I remember the dispatcher asking if Bruce was still breathing… I know it sounds ridiculous, but I couldn’t tell. He sounded like he was trying to breathe but couldn’t catch his breath. Finally, I said, “No, I don’t think he is breathing.” (I remember thinking how stupid I must sound.)

The dispatcher asked if I knew how to do chest compressions. I did. In fact, up until that point, I had been “the” CPR certified person in our office for years. He then asked if I could move Bruce to the floor so the compressions would be more effective. I couldn’t – Bruce was a bodybuilder and more than twice my size. Plus, our bed was so high up, it required stairs for me to climb into it.

Instead, I had to find something solid and get it under him before I could start the compressions. I found something that would work but getting it under him was another problem. It took all my strength to roll him onto his side and hold him there while I positioned the board beneath him.

I remember thinking I was wasting so much time… I needed to move faster, but my feet felt like I was running in wet cement.

I finally started the compressions while counting out loud. I was only on 53 or 54 when the EMS team walked in and took over. They immediately moved him to the floor as they took over the compressions and inserted a breathing tube attached to a breathing bag. I realized immediately that the pulse line on their monitor was flat. I watched from a few feet away, as they tried injecting medication directly into his heart… but the line on the monitor stayed flat. Next, they tried the “paddles”… but still, the line on the monitor remained flat.

I remember standing perfectly still… frozen in space and time – completely silent… yet on the inside, I was screaming for him to come back… but I already knew. No one said a word… They didn’t need to – we all knew.

They continued doing CPR as we waited for a police officer to arrive who could drive me to the hospital behind the ambulance. There were no sirens and no one beside me in the squad car… just myself and my worst fear coming true… and I couldn’t make any of it stop.

At the hospital, they led me to a “consultation room.” There was one dimly lit lamp on a table and two couches on opposite walls facing each other. I remember sitting there alone at first. I remember I didn’t want to be there. I already knew what the “consultation” would be, and I didn’t want to hear it… I didn’t want to hear those words.

While it felt like forever, it was only a few minutes before the attending physician came in and said the words that made everything final and real… a confirmation of what I didn’t want to know for sure.
In that moment my world fell apart. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I remember thinking that for so many years, Bruce had been my hero – my knight in shining armor – and now, in his moment of crisis, I had failed him.

His next breath had depended on me, and despite everything I tried… he had died.

Believe me when I say, I know it is hard to lose a spouse. I know it is even harder to watch them take their last breath… I also know the worst is knowing that his next breath… his very life had depended on me, and I failed.

It took over four months for the autopsy results to come back. The cause of death was listed as “hypertensive heart disease” – high blood pressure. (Bruce had been on medication for years for his blood pressure.) The Medical Examiner called to further explain his findings… the piece of the puzzle he felt I needed to know.

As he explained it, Bruce’s heart was twice the size it should have been. This was caused by hypertension. He explained that the high blood pressure forces the heart to work harder to pump the blood. The heart, like any muscle, grows when it works hard… forcing the heart to work even harder. Over time, this creates an unhealthy cycle.

The Medical Examiner also asked if anyone had performed CPR on Bruce that night. I told him that I had tried but failed. As we talked, he was very kind and explained that I was really “too small to be effective at CPR.” He said that CPR is used as an attempt to help someone who is technically already dead and most times it is not effective… especially when performed by someone my size on someone Bruce’s size.

He further explained that, in reality, no one could have saved Bruce that night. Because of his heart size, Bruce had needed a heart transplant. Without it, once his heart stopped, there was no way to restart it… No one could have saved him that night… no one, because it was already too late.

While my rational mind understood all of this, emotions are not rational. So, despite the rational understanding, I struggled with guilt for well over a decade.

At first, I tried to deal with my guilt by talking about it, but people weren’t really equipped to help. Their response usually sounded something like, “You know you couldn’t have saved him.” (Yes, I know.) “You’ve been told there was nothing anyone could have done.” (True.) “Don’t say that. You know better. Stop thinking like that.” (True, but what I felt and what I knew were two different things, and I didn’t know how to make it stop until I finally got some professional help.)

Back then, though, I quit trying to talk about it… I didn’t blame people for being uncomfortable or for the things they said. They were trying. They meant well. (And I appreciate that effort.) They wanted to help by having me look at the facts… The problem was I knew the facts, but that didn’t help me deal with the emotions. My rational mind understood all the facts.

I had no regrets about our relationship or how we spent our time together. (I still don’t.) And as hard as it has been, I am thankful that I held Bruce while he took his last breath. I am so thankful I was with him, and he didn’t die alone.

Through therapy, I have learned that regret and guilt are emotions that get us nowhere. They are not productive. They cause us to bog down where we are – unable to move forward because we are spending too much time ruminating on the past. At the same time, we have to process all of that to heal… I couldn’t just shove it down and pretend I was okay, because for years, I wasn’t okay.

Thankfully, I finally processed all of those emotions. In fact, for the past two years, I have actually been able to simply grieve his loss without the added weight of guilt, regret, or failure. That has been huge… I’m still sad. I still miss him… This upcoming day in January is still the hardest one on the calendar… and that night will always feel like the worst night ever. However, to be able to simply grieve without all of that other stuff has completely flipped my journey, and for that… I am so thankful.

I was who I was,
Because you were beside me.
I am who I am,
Because you aren’t.
~ Linda, January 2013

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Grief is a daily challenge that changes us in ways we could never foresee, making this journey a difficult 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. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.

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… 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 – Re-membering

Re-membering… No, that isn’t a typo. Rather, it is a play on words…

I have a group of dear friends – a small group of ladies whose goal and purpose are to “hold the light” for each other… to be an anchor in a world that sometimes feels a bit overwhelming. I love these women and treasure not only their friendship but the wisdom and compassion that we offer each other. They have become a loving and grounding force in my world, and I am eternally grateful for each one.

Earlier this week when we were all together, one of them shared an old Egyptian myth. In the story, Isis’s husband has been killed, dismembered, and his body scattered to the far corners of the world. Because of her deep love, Isis cannot move past her grief until she finds all of him and reassembles his body in one place. She searches far and wide for the remains of her husband – unable to forget him. Eventually, not only is she able to reassemble him, she also is able to breathe life back into his body.

The myth itself is an old one and is meant to symbolize the transformative experience of healing from brokenness to aliveness because of an intimate connection. Even in the depths of her grief, Isis seems to have the ability to see the potential of wholeness even in the broken, discarded, buried, or lost. However, that transformation isn’t accomplished accidentally… She is showing us that we have to be the instruments of the healing. We have to gather the precious parts of ourselves… including the precious memories of others that we hold dear to our hearts.

This myth has been especially meaningful for me this week, since the anniversary of Bruce’s death is tomorrow. This time of year has always been a struggle for me… The memory of that night – of performing CPR as I watched him take his last breath… The constant battle within my heart to let go of the guilt and regret of not being able to save him that night. These thoughts and memories have always made this upcoming date a hard one to observe.

However, my sweet friend (holding the light for me) took the story another step further… For, it is by our own remembering of our loved ones that we can re-member our loved ones and breathe life back into their legacy and all they added to our world. So instead of being caught up in all we have lost, we can re-member and reconnect to the love we shared… and probably still do.

When I wake up tomorrow, I don’t know where I will be emotionally. However, thinking of this story and how it is so applicable even now, I find solace in knowing that I can still connect to Bruce in some way… To know that I am not at the mercy of my grief but instead have some control in how this plays out. So, while I have made a few plans for the day, those could change depending on so many different factors. Yet, I know that whatever the day brings, my focus will be on re-membering Bruce and the love we share… even now.
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Grief is a daily challenge. It changes us in ways we could never foresee, making this journey a difficult 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. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Not a Day for Celebrating

“I haven’t heard your voice in years,
But my heart has conversations with you every day.”
~ all-greatquotes.com

It’s hard to believe another year has passed without him… Eight years… I have struggled with this reality this week, and my emotions are all over the place.

Mostly I miss him… I sit and listen to music that we always had playing here at home, (Jimmy Buffet, Kenny Chesney, Bob Marley, and Rod Stewart). Each song invokes another memory… A moment in time captured in my heart. This week, that has meant the tears well up in my eyes and slide slowly down my cheeks. At this point, it feels like all the air has been squeezed out of my lungs, and my heart hurts – literally hurts. I usually end up just sitting down on the floor, either trying to pull myself back together, or I find myself talking to Bruce and telling him how hard this is… And asking why he had to leave me here… without him.

I have also laughed this week as my family has shared stories and memories about this man we all loved. I love to hear my grandson, who was a mere three years old when Bruce died, tell a story about Bruce. More than likely, he is remembering stories he has been told, but to hear him tell them, makes me smile… Actually, it makes us all smile.

There has also been another emotion this week. One I used to feel a lot back in the beginning, (but was too ashamed to talk about). Not one I usually have now-a-days. Yet, I have definitely felt it more and more lately… I’m talking about anger. I’m mad. I haven’t been mad – really mad – at Bruce for dying in years. However, with the chaos happening in our country, I am.

I’m kind of ashamed to admit it, but I am…

When Bruce was here, I always called him my gentle giant… He was one of those people who wouldn’t hurt a flea. That is unless his family was threatened. Then, that was a different story. He would do whatever he felt was necessary to protect those he loved. It didn’t happen often, but more than once I watched as he did exactly that… It might mean something as small as installing additional locks around the house or putting himself between me and whatever threat he felt was around. Then again, it might mean taking on a group of men down in the islands with no thought to his odds since there were four of them and only one of him. Whatever it was, though, he seemed to always feel like it was his job to ensure that those he loved were safe.

This week as I have watched the news and all that has unfolded (so far), I am scared. I am scared of where all of this may lead… I’ve said for years, this was the direction we were heading, but I have prayed I was wrong… Evidently, I wasn’t… And now, I have to face whatever is coming without his protection… And I know it’s silly, but that makes me mad.

And I don’t understand…

Tomorrow will include a lot of memories from our last day together – from the kisses as we left for work in the morning to the kisses as we crawled into bed that night. Then, I have to face Tuesday… It will be 8 years since I awoke in the wee hours of the morning to the sounds of Bruce dying… Once again, I will relive those horrific hours of calling 911, doing CPR, the ride to the hospital, the doctor telling me he was gone, sitting with his body in disbelief, the ride back home, walking into the house, seeing the disarray left by EMS…. And wandering throughout the house, not knowing what to do… Not even sure if I could even take the next breath.

I always take these days off from work. I have to… Not to celebrate… This is not a day for celebrating. A celebration is the furthest thing from my mind. It is a day of absolute and total grief for me. It is day of trying to make sense of something that makes no sense. I don’t think it will matter how many years pass, this day will always be a reminder of how much I loved him… and how much I lost… A reminder that life can change in a breath, and the best we can do is to hang onto those we love while we can… because we never know what the next moment will bring.

I don’t think it really matters how long you loved someone… I think grief is more about how much you loved them. Each year, we must face the anniversary of that loss, and it is hard. It is a reminder that we are still here, and they aren’t. For some of us, this can create an emotional roller coaster. As for me, I thank you for the continued opportunity to share my feelings and experiences with you… (Like the ones this week.) It makes me feel as if 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.

To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. * Who knows… your story may the answer for someone else.

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

* 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… Who Knew I Could Laugh Today?

Two weeks ago marked the 7th anniversary of losing Bruce. While I took a day for myself, and didn’t post a blog here, I still spent the day remembering and writing. So, here are the words and experiences of that day, as I felt them and as I wrote them…

Hi Babe,

It’s hard to believe another year has passed since you left us here… seven years. Wow! Some days (like today) it feels raw and fresh like it just happened. Other days, I can manage my emotions better… but it still hurts. One of the scariest parts is wondering how long the hurt will last… Probably until we’re together again, which is likely to be a long time.

I was reading through my Face Book memories last night… That Friday started out so normal. My morning post said, “Woo Hoo! It’s Friday!” Had I known what lay ahead “woo hoo” would not have been my response to the day.

I still think you knew it was coming… I don’t think you knew it would be that day, but you knew it was it was coming, and you chose to face it alone… I am so sorry for that! I have kept a lot of my fears and emotions to myself over the last couple of years to spare others and give them more hope than I might have felt at the time. It was hard sometimes, though. There were times when I would have given anything to be able to confide everything without worrying about how it might impact their world.

So, to think that even I couldn’t be that person for you after all you did for me is a bit tough to swallow. Then again, I do get it. How do you share your deepest fears or darkest thoughts when you want the people around you to go on with hope and positivity? … I understand now… It just gets so complicated.

I have been so tired this year that I don’t really have a lot planned for today. (Nothing formal like I usually do, anyway.) I just want to spend time with you… writing, sitting on the beach, eating seafood… All those things we used to do together.

I have dreamed of you a lot over the last few nights. Thank you! Those “visits” feel so real and make me smile for weeks… Last night, though, was the funniest!!

We all know that you are still here… We know that you move things around and play with the animals. (We can tell they can even see you – how amazing!) In fact, none of that surprises us anymore… It is just a wonderful reminder that you are still here, and that I am not alone. I believe it is the love between us that keeps that bond alive.

It has just been in the last few years that I have been able to sleep through the night without waking up at 1:15(ish) – the time you died. While there are still nights when I will wake up at that time, it is rare – no longer a nightly occurrence. So, last night with the noises started a little earlier than that time, I thought it was you trying to wake me up. (Honestly, I still do!)

It sounded like my birthday balloons were loose, floating around the room and hitting the fan blades every now and then. So, I turned on the light to see. But the balloons were right where they were supposed to be. It was so odd. So, I stayed awake for a while looking at videos of you. However, when nothing more happened, I turned out the light to go back to sleep.

Just as I was falling asleep, it started again. Seriously, Babe! I am so tired these days! I couldn’t figure out what you wanted. So, I turned on the light again… And once again, nothing was moving. What in the world?! I lay awake for a while, looking at pictures of you and I… remembering us… missing you. But… nothing, so I turned out the light again.

Before a minute had passed, I heard something fall and hit the floor in the bathroom. Immediately, I turned on the light and went to see what had fallen. On the floor by the window was one of the shells from the windowsill. Well… shells don’t move themselves, and this one had been a good two inches from the edge. All I could think was, “Wow, Babe! That was crazy!

Then, as I was looking at the other items on the windowsill, I saw him… There staring back at me was a big adult frog sitting in the orchid leaves. For a minute, we both just stared at each other. Then, I started laughing… How in the world did we get a huge frog in the house? Well, I feel that was a “you” thing, and you used him to wake me up.

I ended up getting a plastic container and card, scooped him up and put him outside. I looked at the clock when I came back in, and you know what time it was… Yep, 1:15. LOL! Then, I spent some time with you… reading memories on Face Book, looking at more pictures, talking to you, and missing you.

I didn’t cry, though… It was all too funny!

Thank you, Babe, for such an hilarious start to our day! For wanting to spend time with me! For being you and for loving me! I love you so much – now and forever!

– – – – – –

Well, here I am… at our beach… no flowers, no beer – just time with you. I hope that’s okay. I have been going, going, going for weeks on end… and I am tired… VERY tired! (Physically AND emotionally) Today, I just want to be with you… just quietly sitting by the ocean – reading, writing, watching the waves and watching people.

On the way here, a Chevy Trailblazer, same color as yours, followed me out of the neighborhood. At first, it took my breath away… How many Sundays did you and I pile into that car and head for a day at the beach?… No plans, except to spend time together.

That’s all I wanted for today, too… We could sit out here for hours and not say a word. Yet, so much love would pass between us with a smile or a touch… I miss that… I miss the quiet we shared

I haven’t been out here that much in the past two years, mostly because of surgeries or being sick. Plus, most days there seems to always be something to do or somewhere to be… That’s just the way life is, I know… But this place is where I find peace and joy… and myself. I need to do this more often… with you.

– – – – – – –

Can I be honest Babe? How in the world did a “WooHoo-It’s-Friday” become my worst nightmare? And… why does it still hurt so much? And… Do you know how long until we see each other again?

I know… all questions with no answers… I wish I could “get over it,” but love isn’t a switch. (There was so much happiness with you.) I am learning to be more at peace, though… And that’s a good thing, I believe. I am able to find things in life that I enjoy and that make me smile. Today, that includes thinking of you!

– – – – – –

Well, Babe, the day is done… another one for the books… and I still miss you. I would give anything to lay in your arms just one more time. What I wouldn’t give for you to have been with me today. I love you so much, Babe! (And any dreams you want to visit is A-Okay with me.) I look forward to the day when we are together once again. Thank you for letting me start the day with a laugh and wonderful thoughts of you! (Who knew I would laugh today of all days?)

I love you, Babe… Now and forever!

What about you? How do you spend the anniversary of losing your loved one? Maybe your way of coping is different than mine… Or maybe you just want to share your story or your thoughts… There is no one right answer. Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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

Peace, Love and Grief… It All Seemed So Normal

“Live fully and love fully for you never know what tomorrow holds.” ~ Unknown

It will be seven years next week… It’s hard to believe. There is a part of me that remembers like it was yesterday, and another part that feels like I have been on this journey (alone) forever… As another new year begins, I have found myself spending a lot of quiet moments this past week thinking about our last few weeks together…

It seemed so hard to believe when it happened… Up until the moment Bruce died, life in our home had all seemed so normal. There are so many normal, yet precious, moments in those last few weeks, that I pray I will never forget…

Our new year was supposed to start without any fanfare… We were supposed to go to a neighbor’s house for a short celebration. The plan was to leave by 8 pm, because Bruce had to be up at 3:30 AM to go to work the next day.

However, when the time came to leave, neither of us wanted to go… so we stayed… until midnight. It was so unlike either of us. We both took our jobs and responsibilities quite seriously – never late, always dependable. But that night was different… That night was spent laughing, dancing, holding each other close and reveling in the love we shared.

The next day, Bruce called out for the first time I had ever known, and we spent the day together, as well. We slept in, snuggled a bit, and spent some time on the beach. For dinner, we danced a little more in the kitchen as we cooked. Then, spent the rest of the evening snuggling and reminiscing…

It seemed like the perfect day. In fact, it seemed like the perfect way to start the new year… What could possibly go wrong when the year had started to perfectly?

The week progressed in such a normal fashion…

A couple of days later, as I was driving home from work, I realized my brakes were making noise. When Bruce got home, he immediately headed outside to fix them. It was late, and he was tired, but he was so protective, and never wasted any time to ensure I was safe.

I was so appreciative and asked what I could possibly do for him to make his day a little bit better. I remember laughing when he asked if I would make him one of my chocolate chip pecan pies. (So much for our “healthy” New Year resolutions.) But, without hesitation, I headed into the kitchen, and by the time he had finished fixing my brakes, he had fresh-out-of-the-oven pie waiting for him.

It’s funny, but neither of us really thought a lot about it… It was just how we rolled…

“If they matter to you, let them know.” ~ livelifehappy.com

It really was just a normal week, but I do have few other memories…

Halfway through the week, I received a text from Bruce about some bears being spotted near my office. I don’t work in a remote area… I work in the middle of town. So, I thought he must be teasing me, because I am terrified of bears. But when I challenged him, he “LOL’d,” and sent me link for a news article. Then, he suggested I might want to stay inside and skip walking on my breaks and lunch that day.

I still have that text, and it still cracks me up… How were there bears in the middle of town… and how did he know about it before my office could send out a notice? (Always looking out for me… that’s how!)

Bruce had that Thursday off, but I headed off to work. I had to wake him up to kiss him goodbye, and I remember him playfully trying to pull me back into bed, rather than letting me leave. However, he must not have had too much trouble waking up, because by the time I got to work, I had a text message from him. It was a picture of the sunrise with the words, “The one thing we still haven’t done together. I wish you were with me. I love you.”

I smiled… I wished I were there too… But we lived at the beach… We would have many opportunities to watch the sunrise together… We would just need to plan a day…

I remember the next morning, as Bruce was leaving for work, we hugged each other tight… I can remember leaning my head on his chest and telling him that I wished we never had to say, “goodbye” … I couldn’t wait for the day when we would both retire and just “play” all day. He smiled, kissed me and simply said, “Agreed.” Then, he hugged me close one more time before he left.

It wasn’t unusual for Bruce to work a 14-hour day, and that Friday was no exception. While I worked late, I still beat him home by hours. I had stopped on the way to pick up Chinese food, a favorite for both of us. As I watched his food grow cold, I sent him a message asking when he would be home, because I missed him.

I ended up falling asleep on the couch as I waited but woke up immediately when I heard his key in the lock. Immediately, I ran across the house to greet him. He was tired, but who wouldn’t be? I took his things and put them away. Then, sat with him as he ate his dinner.

We laughed and talked about our day. Then, we started making plans for the weekend and what we wanted to do. He just smiled… too tired to do much talking. The weather was supposed to be beautiful, so we wanted to do something on the water – either the boat or the kayaks. We finally decided on the kayaks since they were brand new (one of our Christmas presents to each other).

We always went to bed together, and that Friday was no exception. Bruce always made sure the house was locked up tight, and the bed was turned down. Then, he would always help me into bed and tuck me in before climbing into his side of the bed. I always turned out the light, then snuggled into his arms with my head on his chest and my legs wrapped in his… and that is how we slept.

I remember as we lay in the bed that night, I was worried about something. I couldn’t tell you what it was now – I don’t remember. But I can remember, him chuckling, kissing the top of my head, and telling me “not to worry – it would all be okay.”

That was our last night together… We never went kayaking that weekend… I never baked him another pie, and he never again fixed my car… We never sent another text to each other… or hugged and kissed goodbye… I never again ran across the room to welcome him home… And we never saw that sunrise together…

All of those “normal” moments were gone, because Bruce never woke up again… Instead my world came crashing down around me.

This is what I am remembering this week… The anniversary of our last week together and Bruce’s death. Yes, it has been seven years, but my heart still aches… Most of the time, it doesn’t feel real. Time has not taken away the hurt and grief. I have just learned how to manage it better…

This week is a tough one for me, and I am asking for your prayers, support and understanding, as I remember and allow myself to grieve for a little while.

What about you? Does any of this strike a chord with you? How do you handle the anniversary of your loved one’s death? Maybe your way of coping is different than mine… Or maybe you just want to share your story or your thoughts… There is no one right answer. Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

** Since this is a hard week for me and next Sunday is the actual anniversary of Bruce’s death, I will not post a blog next week. I am going to take some of my own advice and do a little self-care. I plan to spend the day in whatever way I need to, without an agenda or responsibilities. Please, take care of yourselves and know that I will be back the following week.

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

Peace, Love and Grief… The Worst Day of the Year

I hate today.
With all my soul, it is a day I wish had never happened.
But it did happen.
And now I remember every moment.
Like a movie on a loop,
It plays over and over in my mind
Until each horrible detail is imprinted there.
Most days I force myself to think of other days.
Days spent at the beach or on the boat.
Moments spent dancing barefoot in the kitchen
Or snuggling in each other’s arms sharing intimate conversations.
Those are the days I love…
Those are the days I want to always remember…
Not this one…
~ Linda, January 2018

This week held the worst day of the year for me… the anniversary of Bruce’s death. In keeping with my 2018 mantra of Self-love and Self-care, I made the decision to do something different this year.

In the past, I started the day watching the sunrise at “our” beach with flowers, prayers and a toast to the life of a great man… the man I love! I have lunch and dinner at his favorite spots. In the afternoon, I hung new prayer flags on the back porch… a tradition I still love. (Each flag is painted by hand and represents something about Bruce. Throughout the year as the wind blows, the good will in each flag is spread throughout the world until each flag either disintegrates from the elements or is carried off on the wind.) Then each year, I ended the day with a Jimmy Buffet dance party… and in my mind Bruce was always there, too.

I still love these ways of honoring Bruce… They are meaningful and beautiful! However, as this year’s anniversary approached, I realized last year’s flags are still in good shape, so I didn’t want to replace them. Plus, my mantra for the year is about Self-love and Self-care. So, I decided to do something different… something to honor not only Bruce, but our relationship and our shared passion…

Bruce and I loved to travel… It was how we met, traveling in the Virgin Islands over the Christmas holidays in 2004. However, since he died, the only traveling I have done has either been for work or with/to family. While I never lost that urge to see the world, somewhere along the line, I convinced myself I couldn’t do it alone. This year, though, I decided to pick those dreams back up and go… And I can’t think of a better way to honor Bruce… and us.

Since his ashes were spread in the ocean five years ago, I figure I can find him on any beach anywhere in the world. Admittedly, I haven’t gone far this year (just a few hours south). But this is a new place I’ve never seen before this weekend… So, it is still a new adventure (for us)!

As I drove into town, the expected rain for the day was actually beautiful sunshine. I made a quick stop for flowers and beer before heading to the waterfront tiki-bar/restaurant for lunch. (Thankfully, eating out alone is something I forced myself to do almost immediately after Bruce passed. So, now it doesn’t feel awkward at all.) The water was beautiful, and the meal was great! I toasted Bruce with a Mojito (one of his favorites). Then as I sat there, I wrote him a letter to go with the flowers and beer.

Hi Babe!

I can’t believe it has been 5 years! Good grief! I will always remember that night like it was yesterday… I miss you so much. I keep trying to move forward, but it is hard. I still want to share every little thing with you – every accomplishment, every “awe” moment, every smile and every tear… but that isn’t meant to be. I don’t think I’ll ever understand why.

This year I decided to change gears, be brave and do something new… In some way to honor not just you, but us! We always loved to travel. It is how we met and what we loved to do – new adventures!

Up until now, all my travels (since you died) have been for others (work or family). But I decided to start traveling for us. I still want to see the world… and I know you are by my side. : ) I can’t hide from the world forever, and knowing you are with me makes me braver. Thanks!

I have been so sad this week as today got closer… I hate January 12… It’s a truly sh**ty (sorry) day… I do still wish you were here… to see your smile and hold your hand one more time would be the best gift ever! I know one day we will be together again… Our hearts are too connected for anything else. Until then, I will miss you…

Thank you for loving me when were here, and thank you for still loving me now. I pray you know I will always love you! You will always have my heart! Always and forever!
Me
xxxooo

After lunch, I headed straight to the beach, where I “gave” Bruce the beer, flowers and letter. Then, I just sat there talking to him, writing… and crying. It was my time to let go and grieve out loud for a bit. (Life just seems too busy these days for much of that.) More than an hour passed before that promised rain finally came, sending me to the shelter of the hotel. But that wasn’t all… I ended the day the way I always have… A little wine, a little Buffet, a little dance party, a few smiles… and a few tears.

Overall, it was a beautiful day. I don’t regret my choice to do something different, at all. In fact, it felt so right, I know I will be doing this more often. After all, grief shouldn’t just be about the tears…

For me, it must also include continuing to do those things Bruce and I loved doing together… Then, I can remember the smiles…

“Love yourself and love your life; it’s the only one you have.” ~ Joyce Meyer, Good Health, Good Life

For each of us dealing with loss, the anniversary of that loss is something we must deal with year after year. While nothing will ever make the loss of Bruce easier to handle, this year’s anniversary was cathartic and peace-filled… And I guess I can’t ask for more than that. My hope in sharing my day is to share an alternative to the normal grieving process we so easily find ourselves in. I know I am not the only one… We are all dealing with some extremely intense, emotional stuff, and none of us needs to handle this alone. Learning to navigate this journey is different for each of us. It brings its individual challenges and lessons. Through it we come to realize we are stronger than we thought we were. If any of this feels familiar, we are here, you are not alone. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. *

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Celebrating Bruce

They say angels live among us… I believe that, because I was blessed to hold one in my arms…

Thursday, January 12… This was the 4th anniversary of Bruce’s death. I spent weeks dreading this day, while knowing there was no way to avoid it. For me, this day can never again be “just another day.” Plus, I am determined that he will not be forgotten, so I have built traditions around this day… which helps… These traditions leave me feeling that I have done something to honor this wonderful man who changed my whole world.

In past years, I have either spent this day completely in the company of others or entirely alone. This year, however, I found good a balance… some time with others and some time alone (with Bruce).

Three of us started the day in true “Bruce” style with a breakfast at Waffle House. From there, I went my own way to spend a few precious hours honoring Bruce my own way. Back at home, I lit candles and recited a few traditional prayers, as well as some prayers from Bruce’s Ash Ceremony years ago,…

“We cannot see, but we know, although the road ascends and passes from our sight, that there will be no night. We know that You have taken Bruce gently by the hand and now lead him along the road of life that never ends, and he will find it is not death but dawn. We do not doubt that You will hold him dear. We thank You for the faith that frees us, the love that knows it cannot lose its own and looking through the shadows, sees that You, Bruce and all who love him are always one.” ~ Prayer from Ash Ceremony

Then, I spent some quiet time, writing in my journal. With the business of the holidays, I found myself pushing my journaling time to the side. So, these few quiet moments were precious… To be able to sit in silence and get inside my own head for a while felt wonderful…

“Hi Babe! … How I wish you were still here! … How am I supposed to do this? How am I supposed to do another year without you? I miss you so much! I need you… Today is four years… Four years ago today, I was facing my first day as a widow… my first day alone. I was in so much shock. I didn’t quite know what to do with myself. The reality of what your death would really mean… what life would be like alone had not sunk in… It couldn’t until I experienced it. Now I sit here, looking back and looking ahead, and I feel lonely still. I love the memories – the fun we had, the twinkle in your eyes when you were teasing, the touches as we passed, laying in your arms as we slept or made love – each moment a sweet expression of our love and passion for each other… I miss it all!” ~ Linda, January 12, 2017

Afterward, I headed to the beach where Bruce’s ashes were scattered. With me, I took a Bali flower basket to place into the surf for Bruce… (And a little rum to share.) The baskets represent “giving back what has been given to you,”… And Bruce gave me so much. To make it personal, Bruce’s basket held flowers from both the store and the garden I planted in his honor, charms to represent Bruce – what he loved and his life’s attitude, a letter from me to him, incense to carry my prayers for Bruce to heaven and a few of his favorite quotes. I spent the next few hours (with Bruce) at the beach… remembering, laughing, crying… and sharing a little rum. It probably sounds so simple, but it was such precious time.

The next part of my remembrance brought me back home to work on the prayer flags. These flags are a Tibetan tradition made of brightly colored cloth and decorated with positive symbols and/or quotes. The flags are hung outside, where tradition holds that as the wind blows through them, the prayers and positive energy are carried throughout the world… Blessing all of us.

To start, I took down what remained of last year’s flags and burned them. This way their prayers and positive energy would still be carried on the wind throughout the world. Next, I hung this year’s flags which were painted and designed by several family members and me. The end result is absolutely beautiful and (as a blessing for me) hangs just outside my bedroom window. Now, each morning when I open my blinds, I am reminded of all the good Bruce brought into this world, and how his legacy goes on and on.

The next part of my day was new this year. However, because nature was in charge, I’m not sure it can become a yearly tradition. Let me back up and explain… My daughter, grandson and I have been working the past few months to help the Monarch butterfly population which is struggling. We planted milkweed for them, and had caterpillars almost right away. However, those first few caterpillars were quickly eaten by local wasps. With the second group of caterpillars, we decided to bring all six inside to see if we could raise their odds of survival. This meant replacing the milkweed leaves inside their butterfly cage every few hours to accommodate their voracious appetites, but it proved worthwhile.

On this special day, my grandson and I were blessed to release the first three butterflies in Bruce’s honor… It felt so right, as we watched them hesitate on our fingers before flying away… A beautiful reminder of the English proverb, “Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly.” Such a simple creature… Yet such a beautiful symbol of courage and new life…

As night fell, we ended the day with one of Bruce’s specialties – something he loved to cook, and I (still) love to eat – cornbread and a bowl of Gumbo.

What a day! It was beautiful and memorable from start to finish… It all felt so right – filled with love and memories of the man who forever changed my world…

I love you, Babe… Always and forever!

“Now the work is left to us, his family, to carry forth the beauty and joy of that life which has been taken from us. Where we weep, Bruce would have us laugh. Where we mourn, Bruce would have us rejoice. But we know he will forgive us our grief, for to grieve is to love, to love is to cherish, and to cherish is to give praise and thanksgiving for the life which has blessed us all.” ~ Prayer from Ash Ceremony

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

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

Who knows… your story may be 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… Facing the anniversary of “that” day

Some days the pain is so great.
Some days it is too much.
But still I must put a smile on my face
And walk out to face the world.
I must pretend all is well.
But inside…
The pain is too much…
Too much…
~ Linda, Sept 2013

This week I am struggling. I can feel myself spiraling downward. In just a few short days, it will be “that day.” The anniversary of the day Bruce died… The day my world imploded in one quick moment. Already, I find myself feeling like I have been thrown back four years. All the pain and loneliness closing in, and I have no place “safe” to go…

I can still remember that night like it was yesterday… Waking up to find Bruce struggling to breathe… calling 911… doing CPR on the man I love terrified by what was happening. I remember the doctor coming in to tell me Bruce was gone… spending time with Bruce as we waiting for the medical examiner – touching him and begging him to open his eyes. I remember that last kiss good-bye that he never felt. I remember going home to an empty house and making phone calls to family and friends… But most of all, I remember being alone… totally and completely alone.

Here I am four years later, and despite having family here, when it comes to my grief and this week’s journey, I still feel completely alone. It’s no one’s fault, except maybe my own… the closer I get to “that” date, the more I find myself pulling inward and away from everyone around me.

I don’t want to face this anniversary again. I don’t want to “do” another year without Bruce!

Last night I had a dream… I dreamed Bruce and I were on the beach. It was beautiful, and we were so happy. Then, suddenly he was just gone! I kept looking everywhere for him. I was crying and felt so desperate, but he was nowhere to be found. I kept thinking I saw him. But each time when I touched the person and they turned to face me,… it wasn’t him. Then, my daughter appeared and started helping me look. She kept saying it would be okay… We would find him… But we didn’t – He was gone… I was completely devastated and woke up in tears.

Life in its cruelty
Gives us a gift of love,
But along with it
Comes an hourglass
Counting down the moments until it is gone.
~ Linda, Sept 2013

I know I am spiraling down this week. Nowadays I don’t usually give myself this much space to grieve, but this week I need it. However, I am walking a fine line because I also need to keep my head above water… and that is hard.

Earlier this week, my grandson and I were having a conversation. He was telling me that he was praying for something specific for his Mommy. I struggled here, not wanting him to think of God as a magic genie or to be disappointed if the answer to that prayer is “no.” I tried to explain that God’s answer may be “no,” but we need to have faith that he has something better in store. We need to ask, but then we need to let go and be willing to accept something different… something better in the long run.

But, here was my struggle with the whole conversation… It has been four long years since I lost Bruce. I have worked through a lot of emotions. I have been angry with God and made my peace… Yet, in spite of all I “know,” in spite of all my “good” days, I still grieve for Bruce at some point every day. He brought so much good and happiness into my world, and I miss him. I still want him back… So, do I trust that there is something “better” in store? Do I believe the very thing I am telling my grandson to believe?

I want to… but if I am honest, I don’t know…

I believe God (the universe or whatever name you choose to use) loves me. I believe there is some good to be found even in this loss… I have learned to be stronger that I ever thought possible. I have learned a lot about who I am as a person and my desire to serve others. I have struggled with my faith and came out on the other side with a much stronger faith that is completely mine. I have learned to be more accepting of others, their beliefs and their struggles. I have learned that people are what are truly important in this world… not just some of us, but all of us. I know that until we learn to love and respect each other and all our differences, this world will never find peace.

I guess I am saying, in the quiet of the last four years, I have been reflecting… and growing and changing… which is good. But, I learned all this at what cost? Did I really have to lose Bruce to learn these lessons? That is the part I struggle with… The idea that I don’t know… In fact, I’ll never know…

I just know I am sad this week… more so than usual. It will be four years on Thursday, and no matter what I have learned or what good I can find, I do know I would give it all back to have Bruce back again.

Another year alone;
A year of tears;
A year where no one cares.

Another year of smiling when I feel like crying.
A year of telling everyone it’s all okay.
A year when I feel abandoned.

Another year of going to bed alone.
A year of coming home to nothing.
A year without hugs or smiles.

Another year without love.
A year without laughter.
A year without you, Babe…
It feels like a lifetime.
~ Linda, Jan 2014

What about you? What have been your struggles when “that” anniversary approaches? Have you been able to find the good? Would you say the price of that “good” was too high? How did you come to terms with it? Or do you still need support in that area? Would you be willing to share your story or your thoughts?

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

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

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

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

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

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

That brings me to this year…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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