Tag: cry

Peace, Love and Grief… Never good at goodbye

“All I could think about was how you were taken away
and now our house…
our space was going to be taken too.”
~ Linda, Oct 2016

From our first goodbye to this past weekend, I have never been good at saying goodbye to Bruce… And I’m not sure I ever will…

Bruce and I met on a small sailing schooner in the Virgin Islands. We had a beautiful week in paradise and seemed to connect from the moment we met. On the last night of the cruise, reality sunk in, (aka – I got scared), and I told him it wasn’t going anywhere… I said my first goodbye. Then I cried the whole way home. I couldn’t do it. Inside I knew I was walking away from the best thing that had ever happened to me. I knew “goodbye” was not what I really wanted.

My first goodbye and already, I knew I couldn’t do it.

As soon as I arrived back home, I emailed Bruce and asked if he could forgive me enough to at least be friends. Six weeks later, we both knew it was a lot more than a friendship… This was going to be forever.

On my first trip to Michigan, I remember seeing his smiling face as I hurried down the passageway in the airport to the best hug (and kiss) ever! It was a wonderful weekend… like something out of a fairy tale. However, the idea of leaving and saying goodbye, started the flow of silent tears from the moment I awoke on the last day… and as I looked at Bruce, I caught him wiping his own eyes more than a few times. At the airport, we both sat silently holding on to each until the last possible moment… Yes, we were that couple. Then, once again, I found myself crying quietly on a dark plane all the way home.

Our second goodbye, and again, I knew this was the part of our relationship I hated.

The next few months found us taking turns flying back and forth between Michigan and South Carolina. Each trip started with the same total joy of being together again and ended with the same complete sadness at saying goodbye.

During the summer of that year, we planned for me to go to Michigan so we could spend those months together. Since I was driving (and in order to spend as much time together as possible), Bruce flew to SC and drove back up with me. At the end of the summer, the idea of goodbye was overwhelming for both of us. As we rode back to SC, we both got more and more quiet the further south we drove. The idea of another tear filled goodbye was even harder after so many months of being together.

It seemed like the stronger our relationship, the deeper our love and the harder it was to say goodbye.

I remember after several months, Bruce’s Dad asked us how long we thought we could keep this up… How long until we quit saying goodbye and got married? I will always remember Bruce’s answer… “Until it gets so hard to say goodbye, we just can’t do it anymore.” Prophetically, that ended up being our reality less then six weeks later.

Once that decision was made, things moved fast. Within less than a month plans were made for a move to Michigan and a small, quiet wedding. The weekend before the move, Bruce flew down to help with last minute move preparations. It was an exciting weekend for both of us, knowing that the endless cycle of “goodbyes” would soon be over. It’s funny, but even then… even knowing that we were about to be together for the rest of forever, it was still hard to say goodbye at the end of the weekend… Even knowing we would see each other in just a few short days, neither of us could say goodbye without tears.

For the next few years, Bruce and I rarely spent a night apart. In fact, even saying goodbye on workday mornings resulted in long hugs. How in the world were we to know how short this time together would be… and a final goodbye would come all to soon?

But it did come… in a breath… in the middle of the night… Bruce’s heart stopped and nothing I (or anyone else) could do would bring him back. I remember being allowed to stay with him until the Medical Examiner came to pick him up. I remember touching his face, holding his hand, kissing his forehead… knowing it would be the last time.

When the time finally came, with tears pouring down my face, I said goodbye… for the last time.

However, as most of you know from reading this blog, accepting the idea that that was really our final goodbye has been a struggle for me. I find myself, even now 3+ years later, still half-expecting him to walk back through our door… I still feel his presence next to me… And I still find myself “talking” to him. (I know it probably sounds crazy… unless you have been where I am.)

Up until this past week, I thought I had said all of my goodbyes to Bruce.

However, as one family out of thousands living on the Florida Atlantic coast, we were facing a category 4 Hurricane Matthew. In Florida, the only mandatory evacuations were on the barrier islands… However, even our area was expecting a 9 -11 foot storm surge, so we made the decision to evacuate as well.

So after hauling everything from the yard and porches into the garage and putting up the hurricane shutters, I found myself face to face with another goodbye… Goodbye to our home… The space Bruce and I had shared… It seemed so unreal. I had already lost the man I love… the man who still owns my heart… and now I had to face the fact that this space we had shared, might very well be taken too. It seemed so wrong. As we loaded the cars and headed west, I held onto Bruce’s jacket (one of the few things I chose to bring along) and cried.

Once again, even though I thought I had made so much progress, I found I was still no good at saying goodbye.

But, God is good… three days later, we returned to find not a thing wrong with our home. The landscaping needed some work and everything needed to be put back in its place, but we were spared… We were blessed…

And… I have learned that I may never be good at saying goodbye to Bruce… and maybe that’s okay.

Note: I would like to thank each of you for your prayers and good thoughts over the last week as my family and I dealt with Hurricane Matthew.

What about you? Did you (or do you) struggle with saying goodbye after your loss? How do you handle 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

* 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… Don’t cry…

Don’t cry… Most of us have heard this all our lives. As a child when a favorite toy was lost… “Don’t cry.” When a pet was lost or your best friend moved… “Don’t cry.” As a teen, when your first love broke your heart… “Don’t cry.” And even as an adult when life throws you a curve ball… “Don’t cry.”

Don’t get me wrong… For the most part, I don’t remember hearing this in a reprimanding tone. It was always said gently and with love. It is a “normal” response, I suppose, when someone is crying. But, honestly, did it ever stop your tears? … Because it never stopped mine.

In fact, this week while watching TV, I heard a mother consoling her adult daughter with those exact words… and it made me think… Why? Why not cry? Why is it so wrong to cry as a response to hurt and loss? Why do we do that to each other?

I remember when Bruce died, people were patient with my tears for a little while… a very little while. After just a few short weeks, I started hearing the words “don’t cry” a lot. Most of the time it was said gently, and I knew it was meant to console. However, there were others who, I believe, were simply uncomfortable with the tears… or truly felt that it was downright wrong to cry. I heard it stated so many ways, such as:

“Don’t cry. You’re not the only one to ever lose someone.”
“Don’t cry. If you have faith, you should believe he’s in a better place.”
“Don’t cry. You can choose to feel better or have a better attitude.”
“Don’t cry in the office or in public. It looks weak.”
“Don’t cry. Be strong.”
“Don’t cry. What will others think?”

Good grief! What will others think? Wouldn’t they think I am sad because my husband died? Is that so bad?

If you listen closely to each of these reasons not to cry, shame is at the core. Which makes me wonder why shame become the tool used to dispel grief? What a crazy place this is when we believe there a time limit to tears of grief, and anything beyond that “limit” is wrong. Research has shown us that it is unhealthy to avoid or deny our grief. Yet, society still charges down the “be tough or be shamed” path.

I understand that my tears and grief may make some people uncomfortable, but maybe that is not my responsibility. Maybe that discomfort is created because in our culture most of us have never learned how to deal with grief. Instead. it is treated like a taboo topic… something that is definitely expected up to a point as ling as we don’t get carried away. If one grieves “too long,” shame will begin to seep into the picture.

Honestly, I have been frustrated for a long time with the reality of pushing my feelings down deep in order to make others more comfortable. However, it wasn’t until these last few weeks that I finally realized this shame aspect and how efficiently it works.

My first realization happened with my grandson. We were having a simple conversation about his day when suddenly he burst into tears about a recent loss that cuts deep into his core. We were in the car, and there wasn’t a lot I could do in the moment. As I reached out to hand him a tissue, I ALMOST said it… “Don’t cry, Baby. It will be okay.” But as the thoughts were forming in my mind, I stopped.

No… That was not what I wanted to say, nor what I wanted him to take away from our encounter. Instead, I told him, “It’s okay to cry, Baby. I know it hurts. You go ahead and cry… I’m here with you.” He’s only 7 so the tears didn’t last very long. Hopefully, however, he will remember that his feelings are valid, and it is okay to grieve his loss. As for me, all I could think was how I wished more people had allowed me that small bit of space… space to cry and grieve for a few moments when the pain of my loss crossed my heart.

My second (and more eye opening) realization came a day or two later. I was having one of “THOSE” days… One of those days when I missed Bruce beyond words. One of those days when the pain and grief felt all new and fresh, as if it had happened just yesterday. A day when I would have given my soul for just one more hug… one more smile. .. one more moment.

Yet as sad as I felt, I got up, got dressed and forced a smile to my face as I walked into my office. Only those closest to me could tell something was “off,” and only one or two actually knew what it was. As the day progressed and my mood started cycling lower and lower, I found myself shoving my emotions further and further down and trying to smile that much more. “Don’t let them see your pain today,” I thought. “Don’t cry.”

And I didn’t… Instead, I waited until I was alone in my car heading home… I waited until I felt “safe.” However, when I finally gave myself “permission” to cry, I found I couldn’t… not really. I was sad and I needed to work through all that stuff I had been shoving down all day, but somehow I still couldn’t allow myself to let go. Instead, I was talking myself out of it.

What if someone called and could hear it in my voice? What if someone saw me?
Then it hit me….Oh my gosh! I had let the shame behind all those “don’t cry’s” become so accepted and ingrained, I was doing it to myself! That was nuts! Good heavens! What shame is there in grieving? I know better! I know all those “don’t cry’s” are wrong. Instead, of “don’t cry,” we need to say…

“Go ahead and cry. This hurts… You’re the only one to ever lose this person in this time.”
“Go ahead and cry. Faith has nothing to do with it. God will hold you and comfort you. He understands your pain.”
“Go ahead and cry. You can choose your attitude, and today it is perfectly okay to choose feeling sad. You can choose to feel better or have a better attitude another day or another time.”
“Go ahead and cry in the office. It is not weak… It is honest and vulnerable… That takes real courage.”
“Go ahead and cry. That takes real strength.”
“Go ahead and cry. Who cares what others may think?”

This lesson has taken me a while, but I have finally realized that it takes more strength and courage to be honest about my grief than to hide it. There may even be a lot of people who will disagree… But I would bet most of them have never walked one step (much less a mile) in my moccasins (as the saying goes).

So… If there is one thing I have learned from all of this “don’t cry” business, it is this…

It is okay and normal to express grief with tears. It takes courage and strength to lay it out there for the world with no apologies. So… if you ever find yourself consoling someone or being consoled, drop the “don’t.” Instead,…

Go ahead and cry…

What about you? Did anyone ever tell you “don’t cry?” Are you still struggling with the shame of grieving past society’s “approved time limit?” Do you need support in that area? Or 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

* 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… I still cry, but somehow it’s not the same

Tears

People ask me if I still cry…
I wake up in the morning with only your picture next to me…
And I cry.

As I get dressed, I think of how you would come in each morning to tell me it was time for you to go as you kissed me…
And I cry.

At work, people make comments about my grief and pain; I smile at them and try to remember that they have no idea what they are saying…
And I cry.

I come home to an empty house and spend the evening alone…
And I cry.

I put on your t-shirt and crawl into our big bed… alone… no one to hold me; no one to kiss me…
And I cry.

So when people ask me if I still cry, I say –
Not all the time…
but sometimes… I still cry

~ Linda, January 18, 2014

Some people will ask… others just assume one way or the other. Either way is okay, but trust me… 2.5 years later – I still cry. Up until a few weeks ago, it was everyday; a few times a day. Unless you have been here and walked this path, I’m not sure if this will make any sense. However, if you are on this path, maybe this will sound familiar.

When Bruce first died, people told me that time would help heal my grief… I’ve learned that is a little bit misleading. Here’s what I mean…

The term “heal” can be misleading because it can mean something different to each person. I thought it meant, I wouldn’t be sad or hurt anymore. I thought it meant that after “some” time, I would go back to being “me” again. But that isn’t how grief has worked out at all.

Experiences change you… Grief changes you… I soon realized that I would NEVER be the “me” I had been before Bruce died.

In the beginning, the pain was so deep and the shock so intense, I felt as if I couldn’t even breathe. Trying to make sense of it all was impossible. I couldn’t understand “why” – Why Bruce? Why us? Why now? Why him and not me? Why was I still here… all alone? None of it made sense.

To say I felt like I was drowning in my own grief would not be an understatement.

As the shock wore off, reality set in and the pain changed as well. I’m not really sure how to describe it… It was still there… it was still deep. Like a wound that never quite heals; always needing care and a fresh bandage.

After a while, it just becomes a part of your life… a part of who you are. That was my grief – It became a part of my everyday life. I thought I was handling it better publicly, although privately not much changed. The pain and sadness were still there.

I started this blog to try to explain some of these emotions… The idea of the emotional chaos that comes with grief. The concept of trying (with every fiber in your being) to just be normal… but knowing you will never be “normal” again.

I wanted people understand that a loss this intense changes you in ways that shake you to the core… That is what is normal… That is what I have been trying to navigate each day – one moment at a time.

In these 2.5 years, I have found myself questioning everything about my life… my faith, my God, other people… even my very existence. Before I trusted everyone… I believed in God’s goodness and always saw the best in other people. But as time passed, the trust that used to be second nature to me seemed to be replaced by feelings of distrust and abandonment.

But, thankfully, that’s not the end of the story…

A few weeks ago, while on a retreat, I had a shift… a shift in my grief and a huge shift in attitude. In those quiet, peace-filled days, I came to realize that Bruce’s death was not some divine punishment. God does not hate me… God and Bruce have not abandoned me. As much as I might not like it, the simple truth is – Bruce had fulfilled his purpose.

He left a beautiful legacy behind by blessing so many lives, especially mine… And that is the other half of the story – my life isn’t over. I need to pick up the baton and keep running… There is a reason Bruce came into my life, and there is a reason I am still here.

I know I will still have sad days… days where I miss Bruce and will still cry. (I had a couple this week.) But it was different this time… I was sad, and I cried, but the feelings of distrust and abandonment were not there… I knew I wasn’t alone. I was just sad – plain and simple.

As I write this, I don’t know what the future will hold. I only know I have to be willing and open to whatever it is… And I find that I am actually excited about whatever is next.

Because this is our community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*

Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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

* 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.