death – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love, and Grief – Absence

“The problem with death is absence.”
~ Roger Rosenblatt

Well, that says it all. I’m done.

Just kidding… well kind of… It really does seem to encapsulate the whole grief experience in a few succinct words… but I still want to linger with those words just a little bit.

Death brings up so many emotions in all of us, and those emotions can change not only each day, but with each breath. There have been times when I didn’t know what to do with all those emotions, especially in the beginning. For me, though, no matter what other emotions were in my heart, always in the periphery (if not in the foreground) were the feelings of loneliness and abandonment.

I know it sounds silly. Shoot, even to my rational mind, I know it is silly. However, from the moment I stood there and watched EMS working on Bruce, yelling at him in my mind to just breathe, but instead watching the line on the monitor remain flat, I felt like he had abandoned me. Logically, I knew better… I still know better. Yet, there is this part of me that I can’t deny which feels abandoned – left all alone to figure out the rest of my days.

Thankfully, I know better. I know Bruce would not have left me alone if he had a choice. I know he loves me… still. I know that feeling something doesn’t make it true. So, why? Why do I feel this way so often when I think about Bruce and this journey of grief that I now find myself on?

Well, the answer to that seems to go back a long way. Although, I honestly don’t know exactly where it comes from. However, I do know that feeling abandoned has been as much a part of me as my own DNA. It seems like there have always been people in my life who choose to use shunning as a form of “punishment” when they are angry rather than having the hard conversation to find a way through – either finding forgiveness or coming to an understanding that we can each live with.

Just to give you an example, my first husband could go for weeks (or even months) without talking to me whenever he felt angered or wronged in some way. The days would drag on and on, and I would fall deeper and deeper into depression and self-loathing… I would be devastated. I would lose all self-esteem as I begged and groveled for forgiveness. I can remember feeling so completely alone… and completely abandoned. Until one day, out of the blue, he would announce that he was “through being mad” and had decided to “forgive” me. No conversation… no understanding… nothing that spoke of love or caring.

At the time, I didn’t realize how emotionally abusive that was. However, after I left and began to heal, I figured it out pretty quickly. I came to understand that that was emotional abandonment, and no one deserves that… no one. I also swore I would never beg for someone to love me ever again.

With Bruce, I never did… I never had to because he truly loved me… All of me – the good, the bad, the silly, the irrational… all of me. I can honestly tell you that, because of Bruce, I know what unconditional love is and how wonderful it feels.

The night he died, though, all of those old, awful feelings from the past came rushing back… And to feel abandoned by this man who had loved me so deeply was beyond devasting.

However, life moves on… and I got help. Bruce is still gone; that won’t change. I still feel his absence each and every day. Sometimes, it is when I first wake up and realize all over again that I am the only one in the bed. Sometimes, it is when I come home to an empty house. There are also the times when I have exciting news to share or when my world feels like it is falling apart. No matter how much time passes, his absence can still take me by surprise, (as if that makes sense), and leave me with those same initial feelings of utter loneliness… and abandonment.

At the same time, I am getting quicker at recognizing what is happening and am able to remind myself that letting go “is one of the compromises we are forced to make in life”. * So, while my heart is broken right now, this is not the end… I still feel him beside me and see him in my dreams… I, also, know that he will be there waiting for me when it is my turn to say good-by here… Until then, I will miss him… and I will remind myself that absence is not always abandonment… Sometimes it is simply a temporary hole in my heart.

* Martha Whitmore Hickman, Healing After Loss
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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

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Peace, Love, and Grief… Letting Life Be

This weekend as I was sitting at the beach enjoying time with my grandson, I also found myself enjoying the waves, the sun, the dragonflies, the lone pelican bobbing on the waves… and the peace of knowing that somehow Bruce was there too. As I sat there, I also thought about a quote I came across this week in the book I am reading, The Book of Longings by Sue Monk Kidd. The quote was so simple… “Let life be life, and let death be death.”

In the story, the main character had just lost her first child… Emotions I could definitely embrace, as I found myself going back so many years ago to the unexpected loss of little Baby Matthew…

I remember the fear, the sadness, and the pain… but mostly, I remember being told I shouldn’t grieve. I should “be relieved,” I was told, because while I was married at the time of his loss, our child had been conceived outside of wedlock… And the world can be a cruel place for such things.

I wasn’t relieved, though. I was sad… As my breasts filled with milk, my heart and my arms were empty. Yet, at the time, my only choice was to push all of that down deep inside, because there was no safe place to let it out. There was no place to “let life be life, and let death be death.”

Many years later, I found myself, once again, devastated by loss… the loss of Bruce. Honestly, at first, I didn’t know how to grieve him. I just kept trying to shove it down, but I wasn’t very successful. Instead, it showed up as depression and anger. All my life through every loss, I had been told “to rejoice” – “They are in a better place” or “their suffering is over” or (one of the worst) “God needed them more.” NOPE! This time I wasn’t having it. All of those empty phrases (and ones like them) only made me angrier.

However, that anger was met with words that questioned my faith… As if the fact that I felt sadness, anger, and devastation at the loss of Bruce also meant my faith in God must be lacking… Pardon me, but that’s a load of crap!

Even Jesus cried when his friend, Lazarus, died… And yes, I am well aware that there are different theories on why he cried – reasons other than grief. However, all we really know is that he cried… And for me… the idea that he had felt and expressed the overwhelming sadness of grief too… Well, the simplicity of that idea is extremely validating.

For me, it has taken years to work through the devastation of that loss – mainly because I had to give myself permission to grieve first. Then, I had to learn how to grieve, which started by going back and grieving all those past losses… most especially my precious Baby Matthew. Then… finally… I was able to truly face my emotions and grieve Bruce. (So much of that I have shared here on these pages… with you. Thank you!)

It has been a slow and arduous process… Learning how to have an emotion, sort it out – allowing it to just “be.” Then, finding the space for it in my heart before moving on… until the next time. Those times… those waves (sometimes tsunamis) of grief have become less frequent through the years.

I think it is because I have learned to let myself go through what I need to in order to come out healthier on the other side. I also think it has a lot to do with knowing that I had the blessing of being able to spend a part of my life with Bruce at all… To know that I was able to be with him up until his last breath is nothing short of miraculous for me… And as hard as those last moments were, I am thankful that I was there with him… That he wasn’t alone.

However, my last breath hasn’t happened yet… I am still here, and life is still calling me.

So, this week when I read, “Let life be life, and let death be death,” I knew exactly what it meant (for me, at least). … Life is what it is. I have to accept that. I can’t control any of it… And while death is a part of it, when death enters our world, we shouldn’t quit living… For life is such a precious gift… and I know, (for myself), I don’t want to waste it… I want to sit back, savor each moment, and enjoy it!

Thank you for the opportunity to share my story with you today. I know that sometimes this journey can feel so lonely. Yet, there are other times when I know I am not alone at all. We have been here for each other for years, (and I am so grateful). While this journey holds its own challenges and peace-filled moments for each of us, it is our love for those we have lost that brings us together to 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.

Peace, Love and Grief… Laugh, Cry, or Turn Away

It dawned on me today that I have been keeping myself busy… terribly busy. I work a full-time job, homeschool my grandson, and if there is a moment when one might think I would sit and relax, I will find something to do… I think, (or maybe I know), that I am avoiding slowing down enough to think. Because when I do that… when I slow down enough, my thoughts eventually come around to Bruce, and the fact that he is gone. Then, it becomes way too easy to fall down that rabbit hole of overwhelming sadness.

Why now? I’m not sure, but I think it may be because these past few months are the hardest for me when it comes to his loss. I don’t know… Maybe it would be better to just let myself have a good cry and get it out. However, I am afraid that if I do that, I might not be able to stop.

I’m telling you this for a couple of reasons. First, I feel pretty certain many of you understand that. I am sure I am not the only one who still experiences prolonged periods of grief that seem to pop up for no real reason. Second, I am wondering if this avoidance of my feelings might be making me a little bit sensitive to other things… Although, that part I’m not so sure about.

I know I tend to be a sensitive person to begin with… I don’t tend to look for things to get upset about, nor do I take everything personally. Honestly, if you don’t tell me something is about me, it is just a lot easier to assume it isn’t. I’m referring to being sensitive to other people and what they are feeling… I just think if more people thought about how someone else might feel before saying or doing some of the things we do, the world might be a more peaceful, loving place… maybe…

That very thought hit me in the face this week… What if someone had taken just a moment more to think before sending me something that left me wondering whether to laugh, cry, or just turn the other way…

Like most of the world, I am in a few on-going group texts… No big deal… None of them have more than three or four people involved. These are my friends and family – people I love. When my phone starts to ping, sometimes I jump in and sometimes I don’t. It all depends on what I am doing, if I have time, and if I really have anything to add to the conversation… Like I said – no big deal.

A few nights ago, in one of those conversations, someone sent a transcript of a comedian’s take on burials. More specifically, it was about how bodies are “laid in caskets with pillows”, and “why”, and “is that really necessary”, and “where do we think they are going.” It’s a little bit hard to explain, but the moment I read it, I was instantly taken aback… Seriously?

I instantly felt like someone had just taken all the oxygen from the room. Granted, I do realize there was a degree of humor in it for some people. I get that… But there was no preamble or warm-up to it… It wasn’t part of a conversation that had somehow ended up there. Instead, it just came out of thin air.

And why include me? And why now? Anyone who is close to me has a pretty good idea that I wouldn’t find it funny… But there it was, and tears immediately came to my eyes as I thought about Bruce… My Bruce is gone… cremated… laid in a pine box and… all decisions I had to make…

I can’t… I can’t go there… When I do, I feel like I can’t breathe.

I know I did what he said he wanted. We even sprinkled his ashes where he requested… but it wasn’t easy… Those choices aren’t easy… and they aren’t a joke. When Bruce died, I had only been to four funerals in my whole life. Of those, I had never helped make any of the arrangements. I had no idea what I was supposed to do or how to do it. I didn’t know who to call. I didn’t know what to ask for or what choices I needed to make… And to be clear, they were all choices I didn’t want to make.

Honestly, since these are choices that have to be made immediately, I was still in shock… just going through the motions and doing what I thought people were telling me I should. I don’t remember a lot, but I do remember the people who helped walk me through it. I remember going to the funeral home with my sister and Bruce’s sisters. I remember they had to answer most of the questions because I couldn’t… At that point, Bruce’s death just felt like a nightmare and all I wanted to do was to wake up… To think that at some point, someone would think it was all a joke… something to be taken so lightly and laughed about… well, that stung…

The night the text came, I wasn’t sure how to respond. I didn’t want to react out of my own emotions (which I knew were too high)… Should I act like it was fine and send an “LOL?” Should I let myself cry and say how hurtful it was? Or… should I just turn off my phone and let them have that conversation without me? I chose the last option… I said nothing. Instead, I turned off my phone and turned away…

But… there is a part of me that wanted to say “Hey, that really wasn’t cool… You have no idea what you are saying or what you are laughing at.” But then again, that is exactly why I didn’t say anything… Because they truly have no idea.

The people who shape their world day in and day out… The people who make up the other half of their soul are still right there beside them. They are so blessed… So, I guess if I had said anything at all that would be it… Enjoy that blessing. Breathe in every wonderful moment that you are together, and hold them close… Take comfort in the fact that you have no idea how earth-shattering and hard those decisions are, or how awful it is when they are gone… I wish I had no idea… I wish I had the luxury of thinking those jokes were funny…

Please, don’t get me wrong. I know I have more of blessings in my life than I can count. This just isn’t one of them… And I guess it was a little bit hard to be reminded of that this week.

Death is hard, and grief, I believe, is harder. There are hard choices and decisions that have to be made. While for each of us, it creates a different path… a different journey, we aren’t alone. Yes, it can sometimes feel like an emotional roller coaster. Some days (or weeks) are better than others, and there are still other weeks where we wonder if we will make it through. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean… 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… At the Mercy of Chance

“Life has a way of reminding you that you are at the mercy of chance.” ~ Kelly Rimmer, The Things We Cannot Say

I have to admit, before Bruce died, I didn’t think about death very much. I hadn’t really encountered it very often, in fact. The few pets we had growing up, (a stray cat my mother fed on the back porch, and a parakeet), aren’t really in my memory – only vague recollections from pictures and stories. I can’t even tell you when the pets came into or left our world… I was too young.

So, for me, I didn’t experience the death of someone (or something) I loved until I was in my late teens. I was 18 when my great-grandmother died and a sophomore in college when I lost my grandfather. A few months later, my first child was born stillborn. Then, my great aunt died in my 30’s and my two grandmothers died when I was in my 40’s. All these were sad events. I cried every time. Family is a big deal to me. I grew up surrounded by family, and all of these people were huge, active parts of my life… And I still miss them so very much.

Now… here is where it gets a little weird… While we “mourned” and buried our loved ones, I can’t say I grieved. I can remember hearing the phrases, “for the best,” “it was their time,” “they are in a better place,” “this is the natural order of things,” and the list goes on… Surely, you know what I mean. In other words, grieving for an extended amount of time just wasn’t done. At least, not in any way that I could see.

After the funeral, no one talked about their feelings anymore. We might share stories that made us laugh, but there was no mention of missing that person or being sad… There was no discussion of grief or how to handle it. It was just assumed that each person, on their own, was okay. It was never spoken, (although it felt understood), that any questioning of why or prolonged signs of grief would be seen as a sign of weak faith… almost blasphemous, in fact.

So, as is common in our culture, I never learned how to grieve… I’m not mad about it – just stating a fact. (And I don’t think I’m alone in this…) We live in a “be tough and move on” culture. Yet, as an extension of that, I never really gave death much thought. Death was something that happens when you get older… to other people… to other people’s lives… not mine… not yet anyway.

Until it did…

Bruce’s death hit me like a ten-ton train head on. In my mind, we were both still relatively young, and in good health. Both our parents were still alive, so our longevity seemed a given. When the events of that night occurred, I struggled to even comprehend what was happening. It seemed so impossible. I felt like I was in a nightmare, but I couldn’t make myself wake up.

All in all, I was totally unprepared for all the changes Bruce’s death brought to my world. I was completely in shock for many months – just going through the motions and watching life pass me by like an observer at a movie. And it has taken me years to feel like I am human again… like I want to be a part of my own life.

Part of what took me so long was I had to actually learn how to grieve. Then, I had to go back and grieve for all those people I had already lost. I know, it sounds strange, but it was some of the best advice I got. I grieved my grandmothers, my grandfather, my great aunt, and most especially, my little baby boy. Then, I was ready to grieve for my husband… for our love and our life together… It took a while, but I grieved for it all.

There have been a lot of changes since those early days after his death. Learning to grieve has been one, but just thinking about and acknowledging death has been another. I have gone from never thinking about death to thinking about death quite often to a realization that no moment is guaranteed other than the one you are currently experiencing. Honestly, this whole process has given me an appreciation for life and those I love as I never felt before. I know how precious each and every moment truly is, and I hope to never again take it for granted.

As part of this “thinking about death,” there are times when I also think about my own death – something I don’t think I ever really contemplated before. For example, I was reading Diana Gabaldon’s book, Drums of Autumn, and one of the main characters tells his wife, “I just want to die in my sleep… beside you.” That line left me feeling bittersweet. Bruce and I were together in bed the night he died. I was right beside him when he took his last breath. Perhaps it sounds strange, but that brings me comfort in an odd kind of way… I mean, I couldn’t save him, but I was with him… It makes me smile to know Bruce didn’t die alone.

Then, I think about my own death… I have no idea what the future will hold, but I’m not scared. There are so many things that go through my head… I know some of it probably sounds morbid, but some of it is realistic, as well. For example, I know I won’t be dying in Bruce’s arms. Hopefully, though, I won’t be alone either. (See, that is the morbid part, I think.) But… There is a thing that makes me smile… When my time comes, (which, for the record, I am betting is a long way off), I know Bruce will be there waiting for me… ready to take my hand and hold me close once again… And that brings me comfort.

For now, I am happy to live my life and experience all the love still here. However, I also look forward to a time when he and I are together again… When I can look into his eyes and hear him say, “I love you” … one more time.

This grief journey is a hard one, and it is different for everyone… The many ways we experience it are as diverse as we are. 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 have you learned to grieve? Is it better some days than others? 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

Peace, Love and Grief… That Moment When You Know

You did not die alone.
I held you as you took your last breath.
I called your name as you struggled to survive.
I loved you then, and I love you now.
You died knowing you were loved.
You did not die alone…
~ Linda, Oct 2013

There are some moments in life that are permanently engraved on our brains and in our hearts. For example, if you were alive when Kennedy was shot, you likely remember that exact moment when you heard the news. Or how about 9/11? I can remember the moment I heard the news like it was yesterday. I was standing in my classroom waiting for my first class to arrive… It felt like the very ground beneath my feet had disappeared.

Those were huge events we can all relate to, because these were events shared by millions. But what about our individual “huge events?” What about those moments when our own worlds stopped? For me, that moment is also permanently etched in my mind…

I’ve written about that night many times, but this is about the moment when I knew…

I had no idea where things were headed when I first woke up and heard Bruce struggling. In fact, I was worried he would be upset and tell me I had over-reacted by calling 911. Even as I was doing CPR and waiting for the Emergency Responders to arrive, I kept thinking he would be embarrassed by all the attention… He hated to be the center of attention.

Once the Emergency Responders arrived, I stood outside the bedroom looking in. As I watched them working… I realized what was happening.

They quickly moved Bruce from the bed to the floor just inside the room. There were three men. Two of them worked on Bruce, while the third walked back and forth – asking me questions and giving them directions. I watched as they performed CPR, inserted an epipen into his heart, and finally used the defibrillator paddles…

No matter what they tried, the line on the heart monitor remained flat.

“You know someone is going to die because you know we’re all going to die – you know it in your brain. But then there’s a moment when that truth drops from your brain to your heart, like an elevator in free fall, and lands with a thud.” ~ Rob Bell, How to be Here

I felt as if everything in me was screaming as I watched my worst nightmare unfold before my eyes. I would swear to you, I was screaming this whole time… Screaming his name… Begging him to come back. But in actuality, I didn’t make a sound… Instead, the silence in our house was deafening.

I knew… But I didn’t want to know…

I watched as they looked at each other… Not a word was spoken, but I knew what that look meant… It was resignation… There was nothing more to try… They continued to pump air into his lungs, as they lifted him onto a gurney and moved him to the ambulance. The man who had seemed in charge started cleaning up the trash and debris from their life-saving attempts.

As for me… I just stood there… watching… I knew… But I didn’t want to know…

I remember the man in charge asked if I wanted someone to drive me to the hospital… At first, I said, “No, I can drive myself.” While in my head, I thought, “For goodness sake! Why aren’t they just going already? Why are they cleaning? Why are they taking their time? Why aren’t they rushing to the hospital?”

But… I knew… I knew the answers to all those questions… “Yes… yes, please… Could someone drive me, after all?”

We waited – all of us – until a squad car came to drive me. Then, we all left in a very, quiet procession – no sirens, no racing… Just a quiet, slow drive through town. As I rode in the back of the squad car, I made my first call to my parents. I remember my mouth felt like it was filled with cotton… every piece of me felt numb… surreal…

“Momma? Daddy? It’s me… Linda… I’m on my way to the hospital… I think Bruce died.”

I remember that moment…
You took one last breath…
Your life ended in that moment.
It felt like mine did too.
Now you are beside me always –
Watching me, guiding me…
Still loving me.
And… I remember.
~ Linda, Oct 2013

Each of us dealing with loss can remember the moment we learned our loved one was gone. Their life ended, and for many of us, it felt like ours did too. We all know death is a part of life, but somehow when it happens, we aren’t ready. We know it is real, but we don’t want it to be. Do you remember that moment? 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 hold hope 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… Precious memories

Wishes and Memories

I dance with you in my mind.
You hold me next to you.
I feel your heartbeat and the strength of your arms.
As the music plays, we move gently and gracefully as one.
Then it ends with a kiss
As I wish for one more dance.

I laugh with you in my dreams.
I see your sweet smile and your kind gentle eyes.
I hear you start to chuckle.
Your smile grows.
Then you wink at me
As I wish for more laughter

I make love with you in my heart
I feel your strength and your gentleness.
Your compassion and love flow through me with every touch
And each sweet kiss.
We become one in that moment.
I lay in your arms as you hold me close;
Gently kissing my lips, my eyes, my fingertips
As I wish for one more loving moment with you.

One more dance.
One more laugh.
One more chance to love you.

Then, I realize…
these moments are always with me.

~ Linda, September 14, 2013

Growing up I can remember my grandmother always referring to her “precious memories.” She always had a story about her boys or one of us – the grandchildren… and later her great-grands. She would smile, tell the story and always end it with a sigh and the words – “another one of my precious memories.” After my grandfather died, she would sit wearing his sweater for comfort and talk about her “precious memories” of the man who had shared her life and her soul for most of her life.

Now, I find myself understanding more and more what her life was like after my grandfather died and just how precious those memories are.

When Bruce first died, I was terrified I would forget something. It was so important not to forget anything. I felt like that would be the same as breaking a promise or being disloyal to him in someway. I wanted to remember every story and every detail. For example, the way his eyes twinkled when he had pulled one over on me and was waiting for me to catch on, or the way he would come up behind me in the kitchen and hug me from behind as he kissed my neck and watched me cook.

Such precious, precious memories…

In the first few years, I did a lot of things to “save” those memories… and don’t get me wrong – I am so glad I did. I did (and still do) a lot of writing. Whenever I remember a story, I write it down. I also took every email, note and card that I could find, put them in order and placed them in an album. I love reading those messages and remembering the feelings and stories surrounding each one. I have photo albums from pre-us (birth – mid 40s) up to just days before he died. I even kept his cell phone because it still has the last 2 weeks’ worth of text messages between us.

Preserving these memories was quite cathartic for me. I tried to be as creative as possible since that has always been my outlet in some form. Plus, it gave me something to do that kept me busy and felt important. Now I know, it was important and I am so glad I did it.

For a long time, though, it was hard to read or look at any of these without crying and spiraling down emotionally. Sometimes, I wondered if I was crazy. I wanted to read them. I wanted to remember. More important, I wanted to feel comfort from them. But instead, each time I found myself crying… Crying because I miss him… Crying for all that was lost… Crying because there would be no more “new” precious memories to fill these books. I couldn’t make it through more than a few pages without falling completely apart.

In my anxiety and struggle to remember, I was so caught up in the details that I found myself forgetting the joy that went with those memories… and that is the part that made them so precious. What I didn’t realize was the fact that because I love Bruce, the memories will be there. It was the love between our two souls that created those precious memories – not what time of day it was or the exact words we spoke.

But time and God have been on my side. I have learned to read these only while I can manage to smile. If I start to cry, I take a breath to see if I am spiraling down or smiling through the tears.

If I am crying without a smile, I stop. I know from experience that to continue will not be good for me at that moment. I know that I am focusing on the wrong things… the negative things… the concrete physical things that are gone. I know that the anger and distrust will follow if I don’t turn it around.

However, if I am still smiling through the tears, then I know I am okay. I may be sad but I am still thankful for that memory and that precious moment in time. I am focused on the love, joy and blessings that created our relationship.

That is my goal now… learning how to handle the memories… to appreciate those moments. I won’t lie, I wish Bruce were still here, but that can’t be. Instead I am growing and learning … Learning that as long as I have those “precious memories,” I will always have a part of Bruce in my heart and in my soul…

And I can never forget that…

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Dear friend,

This week’s blog is a letter written specifically to widows, widowers and people who are grieving…

Dear friend,

I am so sorry that you are reading this letter right now. Please know that in my heart, I am hugging you tight. I believe grief is one of the hardest things life throws at us, and so I know you must be hurting… that is normal. In fact, everything you are feeling is probably “normal.”

God, I hate that term… “normal.” Who’s to say what is “normal?”

Since most of us knew nothing about a “grief journey” until we were thrown onto it, I thought I would share a little bit from my perspective/experience. I may be ahead of you on this path or I may be behind you… or I may be right there beside you. It doesn’t really matter, because more than likely, wherever you are, something in this will ring true and you will get it.

There are a few things I want you to know before the rest of the world has you convinced you are crazy… People mean well, but for the most part, they have NO idea what you are going through or what you are feeling. They are only going by what they think they would do in your shoes… so don’t put too much stock in what they are telling you, especially if it just plain feels wrong. (Like I said, they mean well, but they have no idea.)

So to clarify – you aren’t crazy! You are vulnerable and your emotions are intense right now… but that doesn’t make you crazy. Take some comfort in knowing that whatever you are feeling is normal. In fact, some days your emotions may run the gamut and go through every extreme of what seems like every possible emotion… and that’s okay.

For the first week or more, you will probably just feel numb. It’s called shock. It is your body’s way of protecting you… what you are going through is so traumatic that your brain and body will only let you feel and remember the bare minimum. Months from now, people will tell you a story about what you said or did during this time and you probably will not remember it at all. That is okay… it is normal.

For the first few months, you will probably hear from everyone and their brother. (If you don’t feel like talking to them, that’s okay too.) They will make offers of help… Take them up on it. It may feel really strange but you will be glad you did. Be specific… If they say, “Let me know what you need.” Tell them! If they say, “Call me if you need anything.” Do it! I believe most people are genuine when they make the offer… they just have no idea what you need and they can’t read your mind – so tell them.

After about 3 – 4 months, you will notice people “dropping away.” Most of the people who have been checking in on you start to disappear from the scene. It is like clockwork, and every mourner I have spoken to has experienced it at about the same point. So here you are with the shock of this new life wearing off and the people who are still available are few.

Why does this happen? I am not sure but if I had to take a guess, I believe that most of them think you are doing okay, (after all, it’s been a few months), so they start to back off and go on with their lives. They have no idea that you are just starting to “feel” again and really need them now more than before.

At about this same time, you will also start to notice that some friends who you thought would be by your side no matter what, have disappeared almost completely off the radar. At the same time, new friends have appeared on the scene. These new friends were a God-send for me… they have been by my side throughout this whole ordeal as if we had been friends forever… If this is your experience, count on them. They are a blessing and a gift… They really are your true friends.

This may be hard, but don’t be too upset with the old friends… More than likely, they are scared (and fear does funny things to people). Watching you go through this ordeal makes death and loss all too real for them. More than likely they are going through their own emotional crisis about now and have no idea what to do or say… so they say nothing and back away.

As time passes, you will find that you have a lot of people who want to “fix” you. I can’t lie – this is extremely frustrating. The craziest part seems to be: while they have never experienced a loss like yours, they definitely believe they know how you should deal with it. For whatever reason, they seem to think they have all the answers for your grief.

The truth is – You are not broken. Therefore, you don’t need to be fixed. Grief is a sadness… a process… It isn’t something to be “fixed.” These people who want to “help” you by “fixing” you have no idea what they are saying or the affect it has. Just be patient and ignore as much as you can.

As for your loved one’s “stuff,” there is no hurry. Decide what you want to do with it today or do it next year – who cares? I will advise that when you are ready to go through it, grab a friend to sit with you and help you… There will be tears and stories that you will want to share.

If you want to keep a few things (or everything) – keep them. If you don’t, that is okay too. Want to give some items to family or friends? By all means – yes! A little caution here though… Do not give away anything until you are ready… Even if someone asks for something. Write it down so you will remember, but don’t let go of anything until you are ready. (There is no need to add resentment to your mountain of emotions.)

Your ring? What do you want to do? Wear it? Not wear it? Move it to the other hand? Wear it on a chain? Replace it with another ring to symbolize your life then (or now)? What about their ring?… So many questions and no answer. The truth is there is no protocol. You just need to follow your heart on this one, even if it changes over time. For me, I wore Bruce’s ring on a chain around my neck and kept mine on my left hand for the first 18 months. Then, I moved mine to the chain with his… and that is where they both are for now.

Dating?… Okay, I don’t know what to tell you except it is up to you. Some people start dating right away and others never do. I haven’t yet but can’t say I won’t. The troubling part for me has been that for whatever reason, people seem to equate dating with “finally being over the grief.” That seems ridiculous to me… I don’t see how the two are intertwined. The grief will always be a part of me; it isn’t something to “get over.”

Anyway… I have heard everything from “just find a toy” (that seems like a selfish concept to me) to “Bruce would want you to” (probably) to “If you do, it will be a dishonor to Bruce and your marriage.” (Seriously… how ridiculous does that sound!?) Goes to prove (once again) that the only person who knows what you should or shouldn’t do is you.

I could go on and on with things to expect or not expect. However, that list could go on forever (and then I would have nothing more to write in this blog). So, I will just add a few random items… One is a list of books that I found helpful. The other is a list of activities that I still find helpful.

Books that have meant a lot to me:
1. Healing After Loss by Martha Whitmore Hickman
2. Chicken Soup for the Soul: Miraculous Messages from Heaven by Canfield, Hansen, & Newmark
3. I Wasn’t Ready to Say Goodby by Noel & Blair
4. The Grief Recovery Handbook by James and Friedman
5. The Woman’s Comfort Book by Jennifer Louden
6. Healing a Spouse’s Grieving Heart by Alan D Wolfelt, PH.D.
7. The Artist’s Way Workbook by Julia Cameron
8. The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

Activities that (did and still) help:
1. Plant and maintain a memorial garden.
2. Keep a journal
3. Paint
4. Create a scrapbook of all the emails and cards exchanged.
5. Write poetry
6. Travel
7. Keep a daily list of (at least 5) blessings.
8. Work out daily
9. Weekend Self-retreats
10. Sunrise beach walks
11. Meditate

There is so much more I want to say, but instead I will end with this…

You have probably noticed a central theme throughout this letter – No one has any idea what you need except you. You have value. You are normal.

No one else can make you feel anything unless you allow it, so don’t allow the negative from others to drive your self-worth. Be your own best advocate. Be strong, believe in yourself and trust your gut to know what you need to do or not do…

And most of all, know that you are not on this journey alone. There are a lot of us out here and we care…

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

Peace, Love and Grief… It’s not a competition

Please…
Please don’t judge my grief;
Don’t compare it to someone else’s.
You see what I choose to let you see.
(Except in those moments when it overflows and pours from my soul.)
I may smile.
I may walk with my chin up,
But you do not know what pain is growing on the inside…
consuming my soul.
It may be easy to sit where you do and decide I am fine;
But you would be wrong.
You see what I choose to let you see.
My pain is here; it is real.
I deal with it all day – everyday…
Do not believe the mask I wear.
~ Linda, June 17, 2014

During the first year after Bruce passed, I found myself getting angry at some of the things people said. During the second year, that anger subsided as I learned to think with less emotion and began to realize that people truly meant well… They just didn’t know any better. I know now that most of the words spoken were meant to console or “help me look on the bright side.” Unfortunately, what might be consoling to one person is not necessarily consoling to another. Separating the words from the intent and only responding to the intent has helped me grow and respond with love. What I hope to achieve today is an understanding of why one perception of loss can leave the griever feeling isolated even more.

One of the few statements that will still trigger an emotional (aka – angry) response within me, occurs when someone tries to compare the grief of two different people and thus, two different losses. Please, believe me when I tell you that if you were to ask anyone who is grieving, they would be quick to tell you that this is not a game… And, if it were, they would rather not be participating.

The year Bruce died, was a hard year for our little office. Several people lost family members. We lost husbands, partners, parents and children. About 6 months after Bruce passed, a co-worker went through the horrendous experience of losing her son in a senseless accident. Not only did she live a mother’s worst nightmare by having to make the decision to say “good-by”, but because it was not his fault in any way, she also spent months fighting for him in the judicial system. She is such a brave woman, and I am extremely proud to be her friend.

Since we were both experiencing such deep-felt grief at the same time, we shared a lot… many mornings found us praying for each other and sending words of encouragement back and forth. (I hope she realizes that she is still in my prayers – even today.)

The competition I mention was never between her and me. The competition seems to have been in the minds of some of our co-workers. Ironically, it seemed to be those who had never lost a child or a soul mate (a loss that impacts not just your heart but your day-to-day life).

Almost immediately, people began saying to me, “Well, at least you can remarry and get another husband. She can never replace her son.” Or “Well, at least you don’t hurt as much as she does. The pain of losing a child is so much worse.”

Really? I’ve lost a child and I’ve lost my soul mate… the relationships were different and the pain was different. But I would never say that one is less or more painful than the other. I am aware that these people were trying to help. Their intention may have been to console or to be the “voice of wisdom and positive thought.” I truly believe they meant well, and I appreciate their attempt to help me feel better.

My questions, however, would be…

1. Is there a way to measure grief?
I don’t believe you can measure it. No one knows for sure how or what I (or another person) feels. When we are grieving, we let the world see what we choose to let them see. I would bet most people have no idea that almost 2.5 years later, I still cry at least 2 – 3 times a day… and that’s a minimum. I still wear our wedding rings close to my heart each and every day, and when things get rough and when I sleep, I hold them tightly in my fist. I still have a hard time wrapping my mind around the reality of losing Bruce. I don’t know if I will ever completely accept it.

2. And what do they mean replace Bruce?
One might remarry… Then again, one might also have another child. My point is no matter what else you might do, you can never replace a person. Each person is unique and your relationship with them is unique. They will always be a part of your soul and live deep in your heart. Yes, I am lonely… but it is Bruce that I miss. I don’t want just anyone – I want him. But since that is impossible, I still find myself grieving. I still question why he is gone. I still light a candle for him each morning. I can still remember what it feels like to be in his arms. Craziest of all, I still think of myself as married, and I still think of him as my husband. Honestly, I don’t know if that will ever change.

Here is what I do know…

If your grieving, people will probably say things that are just wrong. Take a breath and remember that they mean well.
If you are trying to comfort someone who is grieving and you don’t know what to say, that’s okay. You need to say anything – just be there. That means so much more than anyone could ever realize.
Finally, please understand that people who are grieving, would rather not be grieving (period). So, if you feel the temptation to compare our grief – to make it seem like a competition – please don’t. It is hurtful and invalidating.
We would beg you, please, don’t compare us… just support us.

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Where are the dreams now?

Reality
I know that you’re not coming back.
I know that even though I wish it weren’t true,
you are gone.
I know…
But it is a bitter pill to swallow.
~ Linda, March 20, 2015

This week’s blog is an extension of last week’s… but then again, that only makes sense since that is the way of time.

Last week I talked about Bruce’s birthday and the dream we had of retiring when he turned 55… This would have been that year. It was supposed to be our time… our dream. But life doesn’t always happen the way you plan it.

I had to go back to work on Tuesday, just like any other day. I woke up, I wrote in my journal, I did my meditation and I worked out. Then I got dressed and drove to work just like any other day… But it wasn’t any other day. It was the day that marked the end of a dream. I walked through the doors at work, greeted the security guard, unlocked my office door and sat down to my computer. However, everything in me was screaming, “NO!!” This wasn’t how it was supposed to be… I wasn’t supposed to be there. This was not what we had planned.

When we met, Bruce and I shared a dream. (I believe it was a part of our initial attraction.) We both wanted to retire on a boat and sail the Caribbean. I used to laugh and tell him that he could be my “cabin boy.” He would laugh right back and tell me that he couldn’t think of a better way to spend his days. I loved that! He didn’t care if I was the “Captain” – he just wanted to be together. Who wouldn’t fall in love with that?!

We spent many weekends looking at yachts – deciding what we wanted and what we didn’t. He used to laugh that we would need an entire separate boat just for my shoes… He was probably right! : )

He was such a thinker… always coming up with ideas for growing a garden on board, a “boat” solar-powered treadmill for me to have a place to run and any other way to make it uniquely “ours.” He spent hours studying ports and pirates, customs and currents. In other words, he got serious about how to actually make our dream come to life. Our dream was real for both of us, and I didn’t doubt that we would really do it one day.

When we bought our current home, I did worry just a little bit. In fact, I questioned Bruce if our dream was just that… a dream. After all, now we had a house and all the responsibilities that go with it. He just smiled and told me that dreams always have a way of coming true… after all – we had found each other.

Then one night… in a breath… in one moment of time, he was gone, I was alone, and our dream was no longer.

I knew it. Over time, I thought I had accepted it. I certainly understood it. I have done the figures and calculations… I know how much longer I need to work before I can retire. (That time-line changes when there is only one person to contribute to the budget.) Logically, I got it… I was aware of the reality of my situation. My world was real and our dreams were gone.

But how does one live – I mean REALLY live – without a dream? Is that living? That is where I found myself on Tuesday. Walking through the motions of my life and realizing that without a dream, what was the purpose? What was the point?

Bruce is gone. He isn’t coming back no matter how much I wish for it. Our dreams are gone too… but my life isn’t over. I don’t want to spend the rest of my days just going through the motions. I want a life with purpose. So while I have spent the remainder of this week mourning the loss of Bruce AND our dreams, I have also come to realize that I must look deep inside myself and find a new dream… a new purpose.

This week has been hard. I have smiled in public and pretended that all was well. However, on the inside, I have been lost… totally and completely lost. I hear this is normal… all couples share dreams and when one is gone, the dreams are gone. It is up to each of us to determine how to keep going.

I’m not sure exactly what my next dream will be but I have the glimmer of an idea that makes me smile. That alone leads me to believe I am on the right path. Life has a way of opening and closing doors, so for now, I will follow my heart, go where life leads me… and pray for the courage to keep moving forward.

I share my thoughts this week praying that if someone else is feeling the same way, they will realize that it is never too late to dream… And dreams are what give our lives purpose.

The Promise
A bird hops through the grass.
A grapevine gently bounces in the breeze.
The raindrops left on the grass from last night’s rain
sparkle in the morning sun.
The ants are already busy scrambling to and fro.
It is a new day;
Full of promise.
Let me open my heart and see the beauty that surrounds me.
Let me accept the promise of today
and hold it to my heart
so I can live each moment as it comes.
~ Linda, September 29, 2014

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Celebrating his life…

Blessed

Sometimes I don’t know how to do this.
Sometimes I can’t even breathe.
Then something happens
And I am reminded of how blessed I have been
To have known you at all…
To hold you in my arms,
Even if only for a little while…
That love will carry me through.

~ Linda, February 10, 2015

Aaaand… here I go again. Bruce’s birthday is Monday, April 13 so I have found myself facing another weekend with great significance. Sometimes I feel like there isn’t even time to breathe before the next thing comes along. However, while I find myself tearing up as I reminisce about past birthday weekends, I know that what I want to do is to celebrate his life… a life that changed mine for the better.

With rare exception, we always took the week of Bruce’s birthday off and headed to his folks’ house to celebrate. We would have so much fun just enjoying each other’s company – spending time on the beach, fishing with his dad, playing card games late into the night, “camping out” in the guest house and making all those precious memories that I wouldn’t trade for the world. It was his week and his mom always treated him like a prince – cooking all his favorite foods, including his favorite cake (Texas Sheet Cake). He would just grin from ear to ear the whole time we were there… In fact, saying good-bye was the only negative part of the whole week.

I remember the first year that I joined him there. Bruce and I had only been dating for a few months. Up to that point, I had only met his sisters (who are wonderful), but not his parents. He was so excited to have me come along, but I was TERRIFIED. I was a 40-something year old divorcee with 4 children who lived 1000 miles away from their son… not exactly a parent’s dream mate for their only son. But Bruce kept insisting I was wrong. “They will love you,” he smiled. “They already love you because I love you and I am happier than I have ever been.” I guess he was right because I felt welcomed and loved from the moment I walked through their door. In fact, that love and acceptance has not changed at all across the years… His family became my family and still is. : )

On his birthday weekend in 2011, we signed the final papers and moved into this home. Since we couldn’t go there, his folks came here and helped us move in. It was a ton of work but we had a great time just being together… and Bruce still got to pick every place we ate. : ) Bruce and I were so excited to be here. We had picked this place specifically to fulfill our dream of spending our retirement years enjoying the Florida coast.

We planned to retire when Bruce turned 55 and just spend the rest of our days playing together. We were so excited… We had so many adventures planned… so many places to go… so many things to do. That dream retirement would have started this year on his birthday (tomorrow). That was our plan… that was our dream. But for whatever reason, that dream was taken away without warning one January night…

With our dreams gone, life got real. So in the interest of a blog that is honest about grief, I will too.

That first birthday without Bruce, we held his memorial and scattered his ashes at sunrise. Afterward, we came back home to a brunch of all his favorite foods. In the evening, we went to one of his favorite fishing spots, toasted him with a beer, and let his grandson place a “boat of flowers” into the water to “take a note to Papa in heaven.” Then to end the day, we had dinner at his favorite seafood restaurant in town. It was one of the hardest days ever… but all in all, it felt like the right way to honor him and his life.

The next year (last year), I was alone for his birthday. At the end of the day, I dressed up (just as I would for him) and went out to dinner at that same seafood restaurant to celebrate. Then afterward, I came back home and had a (Jimmy Buffet) Parrot Head party in his honor. In my mind, I danced with him for hours… It was a hard, tear-filled, wonderful night.

This year I would love to say that enough time has passed, so I am spending the weekend remembering the good times and being thankful, happy and content with those… But that would be a lie.

I am happy for the time Bruce and I had together. I love remembering all the good times and precious moments. But I would give absolutely anything to have him back… to have our dreams back… to have my best friend back… to have our life back. I try not to cry, but the tears come anyway – I am just so sad that he is gone and I am here celebrating his birthday alone. (Even as I write this, I am having trouble seeing the screen through the tears.)

This year my plan has been to go to all of his favorite eating spots over the next few days. (I’ve already been to three of them – Friday, Saturday and tonight.) I even bought a little cupcake (okay – it’s actually HUGE) and a bottle of “Birthday” wine to celebrate tomorrow. I also plan to have another Parrot Head dance party just because it feels right.

I guess deep inside, I want him to know he isn’t forgotten. I love him… I will ALWAYS love him. And as long as I have breath in my body, I will celebrate the day the world was blessed by his life.

This week I have only shared my thoughts, feelings and experiences – there is no great wisdom… only the truth. 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