Tag: comfort

Peace, Love, and Grief – Tears

“What soap is for the body; tears are for the soul.” ~ Old Jewish Proverb

Tears… I can’t think of any other image that is a better representation of grief than tears. Tears have become such a part of my day-to-day life since Bruce died. At first, my eyes were constantly brimming with tears that spilled out and down my cheeks at the most inopportune moments. As time has passed, though, I have learned a little more self-control, and those same tears are relegated to quiet, private moments when I am alone with my thoughts… and my grief.

I wish I could say that society understands and is compassionate when it comes to tears, but that really cannot be said as a blanket statement. In my experience, I have found that society may be patient with a few quiet tears spilling down your cheek… once. However, anything more than that, and people become uncomfortable… Then, the go-to response seems to be trying to get the crier to stop.

Even as a child, that message was perfectly clear. I can remember either being made fun of when I cried (shaming), or I was told that if I didn’t stop, I would be given a reason to cry (threats). Let me just say that neither of those approaches were helpful. Those responses just led me to keep secrets… Secrets of shame… Secrets of hurt… Lots and lots of secrets never shared… never expressed… never released… and never processed.

“Crying feels cleansing, a way to purge pent-up emotions so they don’t lodge in our bodies as stress symptoms such as fatigue or pain.” ~ Martha Creek, Martha’s Pearls: A Spiritual Approach to Life

But… my grandfather… My dear, sweet Pop, (as all the grandkids called him), had a different approach… a loving and compassionate approach. This dear, sweet man would simply take me in his arms and hold me… Never saying a word, he would just hold me… in a space that always felt safe.

That always worked. That always stopped the tears. Somehow, he understood some things that no one else did… First, he understood that my tears were not a reflection on him. He didn’t need to feel any kind of way about my tears. He didn’t need to be embarrassed or annoyed. My tears were not about him.

Second, he knew that nothing he said was going to be of any real help, but his actions could make all the difference in the world. All I needed in those moments was a safe space to feel all those things that were too overwhelming to be processed so quickly. He understood that there was a safe comfort to be found in his arms, and he was willing to offer that whenever needed… What an amazing blessing!

When I was in my late teens, though, Pop died… My safe space was gone.

At that time, I had just married my first husband, so one might assume he would have taken on that role of being my safe space. However, as I’ve written before, that entire marriage was not safe… Instead of being a source of comfort and safety, his behavior was usually the cause of the tears… and chaos… and hurt.

Thankfully, a short time after the end of that marriage, I met Bruce – dear, sweet, gentle Bruce… My gentle giant. Once again, whenever I found myself with tears in my eyes and in need of comfort and compassion, Bruce would take me in his arms, and just like Pop all those years ago, he simply held me. I can’t even begin to describe the comfort and safety I always felt in his arms. No matter the reason for my tears, he never judged, or told me to stop crying. He never shushed me or walked away. He never shamed me or threatened me. He simply sat with me and held me… What a gift!

Once again, I knew what it was like to receive comfort and love from someone else in my moments of pain and hurt… Then, suddenly, he was gone, too.

Once again, I found myself alone… And that is where I have been since that terrible night 11 years ago. In the beginning of this journey, that was devastating. There was the pain and grief of losing Bruce… and I felt so alone. I didn’t know how to ask for the comfort that I needed so badly.

I cried and I cried… I cried a lot.

Of course, there were a lot of people who were uncomfortable with all those tears. There were a lot of people who either stayed away or tried to convince me to stop crying and move on – not understanding that grief isn’t that simple.

At the same time, there were those around me who knew… who understood. These loving angels sat with me… they held me… they cried with me… they remembered with me… they grieved with me. They brought me comfort in a way that I could not do on my own.

I think there are times when we all need that… We not only need to cry and process the pain, but we also need others to sit with us and share that pain. It may sound crazy, but there is a comfort in knowing that we are not alone, especially when our world has been decimated.

So… to all the angels in my life who have shared my tears and my pain… who have sat with me as I cried and held me in your arms – Thank you! That is not a simple task, and I am eternally grateful for your loving spirit.

And… to all those out there still shedding tears of grief, it’s not only okay to cry, but also healthy to cry… Don’t let anyone shame you or talk you out of expressing your feelings this way… Those are outdated misconceptions on their part. *

Instead, take comfort in knowing that, “Crying is also essential to resolve grief when waves of tears periodically come over us after we experience a loss. Tears help us process the loss so we can keep living with open hearts” **… And isn’t THAT the goal? … To continue living and to do it with an open heart?

* “A study performed at the University of Florida found that crying is more effective than any antidepressant on the market. A good cry improved the mood of 88.8% of weepers with only 8.4% reporting that crying made them feel worse.” ~ Martha Creek, Martha’s Pearls: A Spiritual Approach to Life

** Martha Creek, Martha’s Pearls: A Spiritual Approach to Life

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

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

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

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

Peace, Love, and Grief… Grief is Not a Problem

Grief it not a problem… Yep, you read that right. It’s not a problem… You see a problem has a solution. Grief, however, has no solution. It is not something to be figured out and fixed. Instead, it is something you just have to push through – learning whatever lessons there are along the way. In other words, I would say it is more of a process. It is a way of dealing with a loss (any loss), and finding your way without that person or thing you lost.

I have grieved different things throughout my lifetime… the loss of grandparents, the loss of a child, the loss of my first marriage and all its dreams, the financial loss of everything I owned, and the list could go on and on. The greatest… no – hardest loss I have ever experienced, though, is the loss of Bruce… The loss of my best friend… The loss of a love that was complete and without conditions. That grief has been a process for me.

In the beginning, I was as naïve as most people when it came to loss and grief. The only real grief I had known had been met with platitudes of “life moves on” or “your grief shows your faith is small” and so many others. But those are lies!!

Yes, life does move on, but it is different and learning how to navigate that path is a process. No, grief is not an expression of the size or amount of your faith. Jesus cried when his friend died. Plus, if God was so okay with death in the first place, then what was the point of the death and resurrection? No… It is still a process of coming to terms with the loss, and honestly, I believe in my heart of hearts that God cries right along with us when we grieve. Of course, he would… If empathy and compassion are the things that are most helpful when we are grieving, then why would I choose to believe that God would offer me anything less?

In the beginning, I also thought of grief as a problem to be solved. I thought if I did all the right things – read the right books, went to the support groups, listened to the right speakers, etc., then once I had gone through the checklist, I would feel better. I would be okay. The “problem” of my grief would be resolved and put away.

But that isn’t the way it works… not at all…

I did all those things. I worked really hard to be a “good widow.” As I moved into the second year, I thought, “Okay, I have done all the things… It has been a full year… I have been through all the holidays, and ‘first-time-without-him’ things… Now, I should be feeling better.” I quit wearing black all the time and waited expectantly for life to pick up and go back to the way it was… (only without Bruce).

But unfortunately, I was wrong. Grief isn’t that way. Over time is has become different, but it is still a part of my life. I remember reading (at some point) that the grief I felt would never go away, but it would diminish… It would be like a scar or a limp – a permanent reminder of a great pain.

Meh… I can’t say that I totally agree with that.

I will agree that the pangs of grief hit less often. However, the intensity… the pain… the loneliness and feelings of abandonment are just as deep as they were on day one… Maybe even more so, because now, I recognize that this is just how my life is. Yes, the frequency of the waves of grief is less often, but that is the only thing that is “less”.

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about the anniversary of Bruce’s death and how I was not handling it well this year. For whatever reason, I really struggled this year. My depression and grief took root, and I wasn’t sure I could shake it. It lasted for several very long weeks.

This is the way life is… tsunamis of grief at both expected and unexpected times, and each time, there are different means of coming up for air and pushing myself back out of the storm. This year, there were two things that pulled me through. One was a nice long walk on a deserted beach. This was something I had not been able to do for the past few years due to weather. However, this year it was a warm, sunny day. I don’t know if it was the sunshine, the rhythmic sound of the waves, or the fact that I always feel Bruce when I am there, but it was definitely cathartic. My soul felt a peace that I had not been able to find for weeks.

The second was a gift from friends whom I have not seen in over a decade. Two dear people reached out and sent me something called a comfort blanket. It is blue and covered with words such as “love”, “compassion” “strength”, “spirit”, “warm hugs”, “healing”, “courage”, etc. The back side is fleece, and it is the warmest, softest blanket I have ever encountered. As soon as it came, I snuggled up under it.

I know it sounds silly, but I would swear to you I can feel the love of my friends every time I touch it… And I touch it a lot. (I can’t help myself. It is quite soothing.) In fact, despite having tons of throws and blankets around this house, this one has become my favorite. I would almost go so far as to say it is my adult security blanket. Every morning, I snuggle under it as I sip my tea and do my journaling. I use it every mid-day when I lay down to rest and relax; and I crawl back under it at night as I sit in my rocker and read or watch TV.

The love and comfort I feel there has made a huge difference in this current part of my process. Knowing that people care… that they don’t think I’m crazy for still grieving… that there is no judgement or silly platitudes in connection with this blanket is probably the best thing about it.

Whatever it is, it has been helpful, and I can’t express enough gratitude to those who cared enough to reach out when I felt so completely alone… So, no… Grief is not a problem… It is simply a process that has many twists and turns. Each day, it brings a different experience and I learn something new about how to keep moving forward on this path.

Thank you, Michelle and Daniel! And thank you to all of my friends and family who have not given up on me, but instead continue to simply love me as I find my way.

Grief is hard. Each day offers new hope and new tears. I know it has changed me in ways I could never have prepared for, and in ways no one else might understand. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. I would guess that none of us wants to be on this path. Yet, this is where life has landed us. And at least for now, this is where we are. For me, life is now filled with challenges I never imagined. And each time I think I have it figured out; I find I haven’t at all. However, at this point in my journey, I know I have to simply let myself feel what I feel, while at the same time, looking at this life before me and finding the joy, love, and hope life still holds… Then, learning to hold onto that with everything I have.

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

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

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… It’s Complicated

“But Meredith saw the grief in her sister’s bottle green eyes. It was like too much water in a glass, spilling over.” ~ Kristin Hannah, Winter Garden

Just sitting here this morning, waiting for this crazy storm to roll in, and the tears come… rolling down my cheek unchecked. All I can think about is Bruce… And how much I miss him… maybe I should say “still miss him.” But it doesn’t matter how I say it, it is what it is. Granted, it is different than it used to be, but it is still here. It is still a “thing” for me.

When it first started, it was like the beginning of the movie, The Wizard of Oz. The world had no color… It was all just black and white, and I was running from the storm… Running for my life away from this thing that threatened to take my sanity… Running from the grief that I did not want to be a part of my life.

But I couldn’t outrun it, and there was no where safe to land. It felt like I was left out in the storm, fighting to find a safe place to lay my head… Looking for some strong arms to hold me… Someone safe to tell me it would all be okay… But there were no strong arms, and it wasn’t okay.

At some point, grief completely overwhelmed me. It took over every thought and every action. With every breath, I thought about Bruce, his death, and what kind of future lay ahead with him… my future all alone. I think at this point, I embraced the grief… I believe I would even say, it consumed me. If I was breathing, I was crying. Day and night looked and felt the same – hopeless… pointless. There was nothing but darkness to my world, and I was lost.

“I know about losin’ people, Nina. I know how it sits inside you like battery acid, burnin’ through. And I know about runnin’ from it.” ~ Kristin Hannah, Winter Garden

Eventually, the light started to slowly creep back in… I can remember the first time I actually laughed. It was completely inappropriate – or so I thought. How could laughter, smiles or joy ever be a part of my world again? I remember feeling so guilty… As if my joy for one moment was some type of betrayal to Bruce and his memory. (Never mind, that joy was infused in every memory of him.) Somehow, I had adopted the idea that I no longer deserved a life that included such emotions. Grief was sadness… overwhelming sadness, and if that were how I felt, how could I ever feel joy? It was a murky path, and I didn’t know how to navigate it.

As time passed, I grew less intimidated by my own emotions. I not only learned to accept my different emotions, I learned how to “manage” them… I learned to let myself feel everything I felt… I started “allowing” myself to live my life again… To go out with friends, to laugh, to play, and to celebrate. As I learned to accept all of this and meet my grief head on, the color finally started to come back into my world. I learned to accept that there would be good days and bad… Days of tears and sadness and days of joy and laughter.

But here is where I also learned another thing… I learned to hide my grief. I began to understand how uncomfortable it made everyone around me. I recognized that my grief was impacting those I loved, and it wasn’t good. I realized that I had to put it away… For their sake, I needed to find a different way to live with this grief that was ever-present in my world.

At this point, I can say that my relationship with grief “is complicated.” It is complex at times and simple at other times. There is a comfort in my grief because it is how I feel… It is honest and raw. There is also a discomfort in my grief… A loss of control. There are times when I embrace it, and other times when I try to reject it. There is also a part of me that feels like I would be judged if anyone knew its true depths. In other words, the fact that it is ongoing is both a challenge and a comfort.

I don’t know why it is still there. I don’t know why I still find comfort in the moments spent crying for and missing this man. Perhaps, it is because my grief is the last connection I have to this man I love…

“Do you know how hard it is for me to hold my tears inside? I lost someone special and it is so very hard for me every day. I may look strong, I may have you fooled, but what you didn’t realize is that I fight each day to be this way. So please have patience with me. I will never be the same person I once was. Just know that I am trying to be the best I can be, for today…” ~ facebook.com/heavengarden.angel

This grief journey can be a hard one, and it is different for everyone… Some days are easier than others and some days are harder. The many ways we experience grief are as diverse as we are, and we all move through it at our own pace and in our own way… We are all different, and just doing the best we can in a world that can feel overwhelming at times. What about you? How has your grief journey changed through the months or years? Would you like to share your story or ask a question? Do 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

* 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… Walking Through the Valley

The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
He leads me beside the still waters,
He restores my soul.
He leads me in the path of righteousness for His name’s sake.
Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for He is with me; His rod and His staff, they comfort me.
He prepares a table before me in the presence of my enemies; He anoints my head with oil; my cup runs over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
~ Psalm 23

I wrote about this verse a couple of years ago. I wrote about how I had memorized it way back in third grade. It’s funny but to my little 8-year-old head, I pictured all these things as concrete actions… like something in a fairy tale – as if all those things would really happen if God was to give me any comfort.

At the time, our teacher, Mrs. Ezell, kept telling us the importance of memorizing scripture. “There may come a day when you do not have a Bible readily available. You never know what you will have to go through as you get older. Having these verses in your mind will allow you to recall them as you need them.” Boy! She was spot on!

So many times in my adult life, I have clung to this passage and the promises it holds for dear life. Promises of a God who loves me enough to provide and care for me even when I can’t (or won’t) do it for myself. Promises of a love so deep and so complete, that I know where to find refuge in times of stress and anxiety.

For example, after 20 years, when I finally made the decision to leave the chaos and violence of my first marriage, this verse became my lifeline. For three years, my kids and I endured threats, games and nonsense from my ex-husband until our divorce was final. Even though we had already endured years of this, the time between leaving and the divorce felt like one attack after another without any time to breathe. This created high anxiety and required constant vigilance on all our parts.

However, most nights, as I crawled into bed, I found myself calling on the promises in this verse… And each time, my anxiety level went down. Knowing God loved us all and had my back made all the difference in the world. Was it still hard? Of course! Were we still vigilant? Definitely! It was the worry and anxiety that was relieved… And that gave us back the ability to think clearly as we moved on with our lives.

Fast forward several years to Bruce’s death… This event caught me completely unaware and by surprise. I would never in a million years have guessed this man (who was such a health fanatic) would die so early. I was in complete shock, and the pain literally took my breath away. The world continued to move around me, but I functioned as in a dream. I was going through the motions but with no context or understanding… I couldn’t think at all.

Even this passage which had carried me through so many traumatic events before did not come to my mind for a very long time. In fact, when people suggested I read the Psalms for comfort, I would flip through the pages, but I found nothing there.

I was too lost in my loneliness to find comfort anywhere… I was so angry with God in the beginning… How could I trust Him? How could I believe He had my best interest at heart? Simply put – I didn’t.

It was at least a year, before I could start to open my heart up again to anything spiritual. It started off slow… small steps. It started with music, then small snippets of verses. Over time, I found myself crawling out of the darkness on my hands and knees, and looking for the God who said he loved me… The God who said he would never abandon me…

Then, this verse came back to my mind, and once again, it became my mantra. I was definitely passing through “the valley of the shadow of death,” but learning to “fear no evil” was still a bit hard. Instead, I had to focus on “lying beside still waters,” as I waited for God to “restore my soul.”

It has taken a long time, and I still have days where I struggle. (Don’t we all?) But in my heart, I have come to trust that God is beside me – still loving me and caring for me… Because when I am grieving, I can not do these things for myself… It is too hard. I know I can’t do it alone, but I can do it with God. I don’t believe that means I can’t cry or feel sad. For me, it means God is there beside me… I simply have to make the choice to look for him.

Look up, my child.
I am here…
Don’t look down,
I am not there.
Keep your eyes on me.
Don’t let the clouds block your view.
Look beyond them…
The blue sky is always there,
Even behind the clouds.
Stop focusing on the clouds.
Focus on the sky…
Focus on Me.
Keep Me in your view.
I am here guiding you…
Loving you… always.
~ Linda, September 2015

They say there are certain lessons in life we must learn. If we don’t learn from them the first time, we are destined to go through similar circumstances over and over until we do. For me, I have come to believe that lesson is learning to trust God. That is a hard one for me. I know he has been by my side and seen me through every time.

Yet, there are still times when I struggle. These past couple of weeks with this pandemic has been crazy… Trying to find the balance between being prepared for whatever may come and not panicking or over-doing is hard. Trying to work from home while teaching and entertaining a ten year old boy definitely has its challenges. I would give anything for Bruce’s quiet confidence in all this – to feel his arms around me at night when the darkness brings its own questions and anxieties.

This morning as I started thinking about what to write today, I found myself sinking lower and lower… The grief mixed with all that is unknown right now, started to get to me. In fact, I almost decided not to write at all today (a first) because I didn’t want to think about Bruce. I didn’t want to be reminded of his absence on top of everything else we are dealing with.

Then a couple of things dawned on me… I have been doing exactly what I did when Bruce died – staying busy. So busy, in fact, that I go from the minute I wake up until I fall into my bed at night – to exhausted to move. All of this in an effort to not think about dealing with all of this (without him).

The other thing I remembered was this verse. Suddenly, I couldn’t get it out of my head…

“Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for He is with me; His rod and His staff, they comfort me. He prepares a table before me in the presence of my enemies.”

Honestly, we are all walking through the valley right now. What we need to do is breath… and trust. Does that mean everything will be over just like that? That no one who is praying or believes will get sick? No, God doesno’t make that promise… He just promises to be with us… Walking beside us and feeding our souls.

So, for now, my prayer will be, “God you know what this is… It is in your hands… We are walking in the valley and I am calling on you for comfort. Please show me, my trust in you is good and right… I know this is my lesson… I know this is my struggle… Help me to trust you… Help me to ‘lie down in green pastures’ and ‘beside still waters’… And, please, restore my soul.”

Everyone deals with loss, grief and life in their own way. We all find answers and comfort in various sources. That is what makes us all unique and different. Admittedly, I usually steer away from religion when I write. I don’t want anyone to think I am trying to preach… That is not my goal here. My only goal today has been to share a poem which has helped me on numerous occasions. It is a source of strength for me.

Do you have something that provides that sense of calmness in the storm? If so, would you share it with us? There may be someone out there who needs to hear exactly what you have to say…

If you are struggling with grief, loss, loneliness, please know you are not alone – We are here. 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. * 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… Sometimes It’s the Little Things

Usually I start thinking through this blog early in the week, so by the time I sit down to write, most of it just flows. This week was no different, until this morning… when things changed…

After Bruce passed, it took a while to change anything in this house. It was four months before I could give any of his things to other family members. Several more months before I could actually rearrange things in the house or sell his truck… A year before I could clean out his closet and chest of drawers… And well over a year before I managed to finish all the legal paperwork…

I know there are those who jump right in and get all these things done right away – like ripping off a bandage, I am told. But not me… I couldn’t do it like that. For me, it became (and still is) a process.

It may sound ridiculous, but in the beginning, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all just a bad dream. I just needed to hang in there until I could wake up. Then, Bruce would come home and all would be as it was. I couldn’t get rid of or move anything… I had to be “good.” I had to be patient. I had to leave everything as it was. Then, everything would be okay.

As crazy as this may sound, I am told it is not unusual… The denial I was experiencing was a normal response to the shock and trauma of the whole event.

But even after reality set in, there was another part of me that felt like I was “erasing” Bruce’s very existence every time I transferred something into my name, sold something or gave away anything.

I remember clearly the day I went to finish the last of the paperwork changing the last few things from Bruce’s name to mine. With two wonderful friends by my side, I cried as I signed the final paper work making everything so real… so final.

I also remember the day I finally went through Bruce’s things – deciding what to keep and what to give away. Another dear friend came and sat with me – asking about memories and freely giving hugs throughout the afternoon. It was a hard process, but (so far) I haven’t regretted any of the choices I made that day with her support.

This week held two more of “those” experiences. The first one was early in the week…

Since the night he died, I have worn Bruce’s necklace with a small, silver anchor and his wedding ring hanging from it. At some point in the second year, I added my wedding ring to the chain, as well, and have worn these day and night without fail… Their constant presence near my heart brings me comfort.

Earlier this week, I noticed that somehow one side of the anchor had bent. I was devastated. In an effort to repair it myself, I only managed to make it worse initially, and the tears started immediately… It was crazy… Here I am four years later, and the idea of losing this tangible piece of “us” was more than I could handle. I finally managed to fix it, but then I had to decide – Do I keep wearing it? What if it happens again and is beyond repair? Do I tuck it away to protect it or do I continue to wear it for as long as possible?…

I have chosen to wear it (at least for now)… The comfort I feel while wearing it is too great to hide in a drawer…

The second experience happened this morning and took me a bit by surprise. It started a couple of months ago, when I gave away Bruce’s original bed frame and mattress set to a neighbor. I thought it was going to be hard to watch it go, but I was fine.

We were giving it away to make room for my grandson’s new bed… part of turning the guest room into a room for a seven-year-old boy. I knew Bruce would rather his little Boudreaux had his own space versus me hanging onto a bed set simply for the sake of memories. To be honest, I don’t even know the name of the people who took it, only that they live around the corner… And that is fine. I haven’t regretted that decision at all.

Armed with the strength from that decision and the knowledge that I have needed to replace our master bed mattress set for quite a while, I decided to bite the bullet. Since I have been (passively) looking at mattresses for over a year, I knew what I wanted… I was only procrastinating because the current set had been ours.

So Saturday morning, I woke up, showered and headed to the store – fully confident in my decision. In less than an hour, I had made my purchase and arrangements for delivery this morning…

But this morning, I woke up feeling sad… overwhelmingly sad. Was I really ready for this? After all, this was the space where Bruce held me for the last time… Where we kissed for the last time… Where I held him as he took his last breath…

As I write this, it is hours later. The old mattress set is gone… The new one is in place, and the bed made up. I haven’t laid on it yet,… but I will. I know this change was necessary, and I’ll be okay… But right now, I just feel a little sad…

Through the years, I have come to realize sometimes it’s the seemingly inconsequential, small things that can shake your world without warning…

For most of us, the grief journey is a hard one. Learning to let go of the things… the tangible reminders of our loved ones can be hard… even years later. If any of this sounds familiar, there are many of us here with you… you are not alone. If you have found a positive way through this, would you be willing to share your story or thoughts? To do so, go to the comments and leave a note. *

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