finding hope – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love, and Grief… Finding Hope in a Season of Grief – Part 2

(Continued from last week)

As I wrote last week, the years passed and life went on, but my faith was struggling.

Bruce was beyond supportive. He knew I needed to fill this part of my life. Together, we went from church to church trying to find a place where we might fit in… but I was scared. I wanted “more”, but I didn’t feel welcome to experience “more”. He was encouraging, but not pushy. I, on the other hand, held back… My trust in the church – any church – was gone.

Then, just 2 months prior to Bruce’s death, my faith finally came crashing down around me. Little did I know what was ahead of me and how impossibly hard it would be to grieve when I had no faith… and no hope.

You see, I had (finally) found what I thought could be my new “church home”. I can remember sitting in this small Episcopal church (a denomination, I thought would be a little more understanding about divorce). I had been attending for several months and was starting to feel like I just might actually fit in there.

That particular week, the pastor started a homily on the “evils of divorce”. I was a little bit wary at first but thought that he would give a caveat about abuse being a reason to leave. As the minutes passed, I remember crying and thinking, “He isn’t addressing abuse… Life choices aren’t always that simple.” Then he said, “Divorce is never okay, even if there is abuse.” I was completely stunned. I wasn’t welcome, after all… I never would be… And so, I left… I literally got up in the middle of the service and quietly walked out. All I knew was I couldn’t do it anymore… My heart couldn’t take it any more.

I think I must have cried for a week straight. (I know I cried so much I gave myself two black eyes.) At that point, I didn’t know what I was going to do. I had lost my faith… It was gone… (or so I thought). Then, two months later, Bruce died. With no faith to fall back on, I lost all hope. Losing my faith and my love so close together had taken away my hope… And I had no idea how to get it back.

Time, although I couldn’t see it then, became my friend and the key I needed. Slowly… very slowly… I started to deconstruct, then reconstruct my faith…. And I learned quite quickly that my struggle wasn’t with God. My struggle was how God was being interpreted and presented.

First, I went back to the basic concepts I knew I believed without a doubt. Granted, it took me a while to strip away the dogma and other people’s interpretations, and finally figure out for myself what I believe… rather than what someone else was telling me to believe… To come to an understanding of my faith vs someone else’s faith.

I have to be honest; this was all possible because of Bruce and the legacy he left behind… a faith that he lived but never preached.

I started by reading the books he had read and listening to the speakers he had favored. Over time, I have found new authors and speakers and entire communities that share my quest for a faith that is built on a God that can’t be defined or put in a nice, neat box. A faith that is that is as individual as each one of us.
Even today, I am still working to reassemble a faith that is mine… a faith that is as genuine as Bruce’s was. However, by doing this… by working hard to understand what I believe, hope is also returning to my world.

My faith is noticeably different from what it was, but I can say without hesitation that it is mine… And the hope that I now feel is different too. It is less naïve and much more grounded. It isn’t based on miracles or punishments. It is not based on whether or not I am considered “worthy” or “good enough”. Instead, it is based on a loving relationship… It is filled with a hope that things can be better, but not that they necessarily will be… nor do they have to be for this hope to keep going.

Instead, this faith has given me true hope that continues to carry me through this season of grief.
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This journey isn’t easy… not that you need me to tell you that. Loss can be traumatic, and the grief we are left to figure out is hard. Thankfully, though, there are moments and actions we can take to refresh our souls – Moments where I learn a little bit more about faith, life, and love.

As the years pass, I can honestly say that there are more of these good moments than bad. Each day, I continue to learn more and more about those things that seem to help me heal and move forward – like sharing precious memories. So, I will continue to allow myself the space I need to heal and process this life without my love… without Bruce. Thankfully, at this point in my journey, I am learning that I am not alone – thanks to you!

In fact, none of us need to be alone, because 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 and helps us to process that avalanche of emotions that grief brings us. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

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Peace, Love, and Grief… Being Hopeful

“Sometimes you have to let go of the picture of what you thought it would be like and learn to find joy in the story you are actually living.” ~ Rachel Marie Martin

Sometimes I think this is what the grief journey is really all about… Letting go of what was and what was supposed to be and finding joy in what is. We all change and grow throughout our lives, or at least, we are supposed to. But for most of us, those changes are slow… they happen over time. This gives us a chance to adapt as we move forward, and it gives those around us time to adapt to the changes in us as well.

The problem with losing a loved one is that the change happens fast… real fast… like “in-a-moment” fast. We have no time to adapt… And if we are struggling with the change, no wonder those around us struggle at the changes in us too. We want things to be as they were. They want us to be as we were. However, neither of those things are possible anymore… Our lives are forever changed, and so are we.

After Bruce died, I think one of the biggest adjustments was that my “person” was no longer here. In a healthy relationship, the other partner becomes our priority. It was no different for Bruce and me. I was his priority, and he was mine. We were always looking out for the other – putting them first, building them up, looking out for what could make their world a little bit better. But the moment he died, I lost that. My “person” was no longer here. I had no one to be my priority, and I was no longer the priority in anyone else’s world. No matter who… no matter what…

Logically, I knew this was just the way life would be. I understand it (logically). It’s a little harder when it is played out, though. It’s odd, I guess. I can’t say that I was a priority to anyone before Bruce. At that time, though, it was okay. That was just life… I didn’t know any different. But then when Bruce came along, and I learned and experienced a love that was totally committed. That was such a new and different experience for me. I really did feel like I had walked into a fairy tale, and we would live “happily ever after.”

When that didn’t happen, I struggled just to “be” … just to exist…

Several months after he died, I started working with a life coach. I can’t say we really worked on my grief. Instead, we worked on how to live life again… At the time, I was just trying to survive. To get up each day and do the things life required of me. She taught how to be not only a functioning human but to look for the joy in each day and each moment. It started with a whole conversation about “be-ing” – about movement and change that is a part of life. An understanding that we are human “be-ings” – meaning our calling is to “be” … to grow… to move forward… She taught me to look at the things happening around me, and to lean into those moments that bring me joy in order to sustain me through the harder moments.

For the most part, I think I do pretty well… This time of year, though, is a little bit harder. Now, add onto to that the fact that this is my first holiday season alone again in years – not necessarily a bad thing, but it adds a few challenges to my thought processes. This Advent season, I find myself needing to work just a little bit harder to hang onto those joy-filled moments. Otherwise, I don’t know how I would get through some of the lonelier times.

In my Advent readings this year, the author has talked a lot about hope, which makes sense. That’s what Advent is – a time of hope… a time of waiting for something better to come. This, I guess, is my current struggle, because in the moment when I became a widow all of my hope was gone. I have had the best – Bruce, and after all these years, I don’t really know how to hope anymore… but I want to…

Over the years, I have learned to feel joyful again… It was tough, and it took time, but I did it. Now, I really want to find hope again. Be-ing a widow may have stolen my hope in the beginning, but that doesn’t mean I can’t find it again. It doesn’t mean I need to spend the rest of my life feeling the best has already happened… And so that has become my goal… To let go of past expectations, and to learn how to have hope again.

Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone… and this time of year, it can be just a little bit harder. I don’t think any of us wants to on this path, but this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Life is now filled with challenges I never imagined – especially during the holidays. Each time I think I have it figured out; I find I don’t at all, despite the years since Bruce passed. These next few weeks will hold many challenges for me, but my goal is to look for the joy and the hope life holds.

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.

Peace, Love and Grief… Christmas Your Way

I’m unwrapping all these memories,
fighting back the tears.
It’s just a different kind of Christmas this year.
~ Mark Shultz

Today, I just want to share a little bit of what I have learned through the years. It is not a lecture, nor is it the only way to do any of this. It is merely, what I have found works for me. Perhaps, there is someone else out there trying to figure out this “holiday thing,” and if this can help even one person, then it is worth being said…

To start, let me say that the sentiment above seems true every year… Every year, I get a little better at participating in the season… And last year, I was finally able to actually start loving it again. Yet, I still have my moments of feeling overwhelmed with heartache, especially when something triggers a memory of Christmases past with Bruce… and all the love that filled the season when we were together.

As I have said before, that first year I couldn’t even manage to be anywhere near anything Christmas. I ran away, I guess you would say. I spent the week on a yacht in the Keys – ignoring the holiday… and the world.
The next year, I found myself spending the holiday in my and Bruce’s favorite vacation spot on the Alabama coast. I wasn’t alone. I had a few family members around me. I even managed to participate a little bit, but it was still a hard struggle. Thankfully, there was a beach, where I could go for long walks (and cry without bothering anyone else).

Each year since, has found me participating a little bit more. Even so, for many years it has been a lot of smiling on the outside and trying to enjoy all that is “Christmas,” while crying on the inside for all I am missing. Then last year, I finally reached the point of truly enjoying the holiday. I found myself smiling on the outside and the inside… Perhaps it was the fight to live last year, but 2018 definitely found me feeling hopeful once again… and that was where I found my Christmas spirit.

However, it hasn’t been an easy ride. Even now, I still have to keep my emotions in check. Otherwise, it would be very easy to fall back down that rabbit hole of sadness, where there seems to be no hope at all.

This is where it gets a little technical, I suppose. I tend to be a list person. In fact, when Bruce died, I spent a lot of time in the beginning researching how to deal with grief… How to get past it. What did I need to do to get past all the hurt in my heart? It seemed simple enough… I just needed a list of things to do, so I could feel better and move on.

I soon learned it wasn’t that simple though. Life rarely is…

However, through the years, I have learned to do a few things to make the holidays something I could survive, … and even now enjoy. And while things have been better these last two years, I still follow these tips… So, maybe, someone else can use a few of these this week, as well.

1. It’s okay to say no… Really… It is. This is still your life and doing Christmas without your loved one by your side is hard. You won’t be any good to anyone else if you don’t take care of you. So have a little bit of what I call, sacred selfishness, and only do the things you can. If you are feeling too sad to go to a party, even if it is the last moment, it is okay to not go. During this time, give yourself permission to say, “no.”

(Remember, that first year I said no to everything, and look where I am now.) Don’t feel guilty… Grief is real… Your pain is real. It’s not only okay to take care of yourself, it’s actually better for everyone in the long run. You can’t do or be everything for everyone else. Trust me… they will be okay.

2. It’s okay to change your mind or leave at the last minute. In fact, think ahead and have a “just in case” plan in mind… In other words, have an exit strategy planned, because you never know when a grief wave will hit. It is much better to have a plan in your pocket, then to run away blindly, creating drama in your wake. This season can be overwhelming, and it is easy to over-commit. Even that reasoning can be understood by others, if you aren’t comfortable talking about your sadness.

I can’t tell you how many times I have done exactly this… In the moment, I have accepted an invitation to something. However, when the time came to go, my head-space wasn’t there… I couldn’t do it. I knew it would not be good for anyone… So, I made my apologies and bowed out. Of course, this also means, not committing to hosting anything either. That is something I still don’t do… I still need to feel like I can leave or not go at all, if that is what I need to do.

3. It’s okay to feel what you feel… and try to surround yourself with people who support that, as well. In other words, if something makes you sad, let yourself cry. Or, if something makes you happy, don’t feel guilty for that. In fact, let yourself enjoy every little thing you possibly can… We all know the holidays can be especially hard, and joyful moments can be rare. Of course, the people around you can often make or break this one. There are those who will be supportive and there are those who will try to talk you out of your feelings. The thing is… You can never work through a feeling, if you aren’t allowed to feel it in the first place. So, be good to yourself, and seek out those people who will be understanding – allowing you to feel and work your way through your feelings.

I think that first year, I ran away because I didn’t trust myself with my feelings, much less anyone else. However, through time, I have learned just how blessed I actually am. I have many people, family and friends, who are quite supportive, especially during the holidays. I hear a lot of “Do you feel up to this? It’s okay if you don’t.” Or just lots of extra hugs and patience, as they let me work my way through this season and my own feelings. These are the people I keep close to my heart… These are the people I know I can count on no matter what I am feeling.

4. It’s okay to include your loved in new ways… There are many ways to honor your loved throughout the holidays. (This is one area you can research and find endless answers.) For me, this has been a great way to bridge my feelings with the holidays. For example, the first year I decided to decorate again, I opened the first box and found Bruce’s stocking right on top. At first, I struggled with what to do with it. I finally decided to hang it up, which I continue to do each year. Next to it, I place a small box of paper and a pen. Whenever anyone remembers a story about Bruce, we write it on the paper and place it in the stocking. Those papers are left in the stocking and each year it gets fatter and fatter. Now each year when I pull it out, it is a great reminder of all the precious moments and love Bruce shared with all of us.

I also include him in the meal with a short candle-lighting ceremony. I didn’t come up with it, and I can’t remember where I found it originally. However, here it is…

I set up his picture with six candles around it. Before we say our blessing, we light the candles and remember him. Just so you know, most of the time someone else does the reading, because this is where I tend to get choked up with emotion. (Remember – do what you can, feel what you feel, and have supportive people around you.)

“Today, we light six candles in honor of you:
1. This candle represents our grief. The pain of losing you is intense. It is a reminder of the depth of our love for you.
2. This candle represents our courage – to confront our sorrow, to comfort each other, and to change our lives.
3. This candle is in your memory – the times we laughed, the times we cried, the times we were angry with each other, the silly things you did, and the caring and joy you gave us.
4. This candle is the light of love. Day by day, we cherish the special place in our hearts that will always be reserved for you. Thank you for the gift your life brought to each of us.
5. This candle is the light of hope. It reminds us of love and memories of you that are ours forever.
6. This candle is the light of eternity – for the day when we will see you again in all God’s glory. We will be together again. We will have healthy, whole bodies and can explore the wonders of heaven together.
May the light of the Lord be our source of hopefulness now and forever. Amen.”

When Bruce died, I felt lost… abandoned… completely hopeless. I didn’t really care what the next day held, because no matter what a day might hold, it would be without Bruce. The holidays made that especially hard. But as time has passed, I have learned to feel hope again… I have learned to appreciate the brevity of life and the preciousness of each moment we have together. That is what makes the holidays hard at times… There is the struggle between missing what was and appreciating what is.

Today I have shared what I have learned so far on this journey… That doesn’t make me an expert. Shoot, in a few more years, I hope I will have learned a little more. So, if you are reading this, and you are new to loss, or still trying to figure out how to move forward without your loved one, please know that you are in my prayers. And my prayer for you is that you can find that hope again… The hope that life is worth our time and our curiosity. The hope that each day will hold something so precious in store that we wouldn’t want to miss it.

So, on this Sunday before Christmas, I pray that you will have a Christmas season filled with joy and laughter… and especially hope. Because those are the things that make life all it is meant to be.

There are no rules for surviving holiday grief.
Do what you need to survive.
Honor your loved one how you need to,
And do what feels best for your fragile, aching heart.
You are missing a huge piece of you.
So do whatever you need to do to find a sliver of peace.
~ Angela Miller

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sf6_JBLTNAM

What about you? Does any of this strike a chord with you? How does this season effect you? Are you able to celebrate? Or are you still struggling just to hang on and get to the other side of this season? Maybe you have found a different way to cope… There is no one right answer. Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Merry Christmas

“The word which God has written on the brow of every man is Hope.” – Victor Hugo

I think that has been the piece of Christmas I have “re-discovered” this year… the feeling of hope. Each year… Each Christmas, I seem to adjust a little bit more. The first year I ran away to the Keys and ignored Christmas completely. The next year, I found myself singing along with the carols on the radio (still the only singing this former music teacher does since Bruce’s death). Then each year following, I have celebrated a little bit more year by year. But even last year, I wrote about smiling on the outside and trying to enjoy all that is “Christmas,” while crying on the inside for all I am missing.

I couldn’t seem to figure out how to move forward any further…

But this year… Well, this year I have loved the Christmas season. I have felt it from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. I have decorated, shopped with abandon, watched parades, played (and sang) Christmas music relentlessly, and gone for nightly drives to look at Christmas lights. I have smiled on the outside and on the inside. In other words, this year I have truly felt like celebrating… something I haven’t wanted or felt like doing for years.

In fact, last week, my daughter told me she had noticed. And not only had she noticed, but the change in my attitude had also meant the best of seasons for her and my grandson, as well. So, what made the difference this year?

Well, I believe it is hope. For the first time in years, I feel like there is hope… real, genuine hope in my life.

When Bruce died, I felt lost… abandoned… completely hopeless. I didn’t really care what the next day held, because no matter what a day might hold, it would be without Bruce. As time passed, I learned to appreciate life – at least, the brevity of life. I get frustrated with people who can’t understand how absolutely precious our time together is. We are never promised the next breath, and yet most of us take it completely for granted, even in the relationships of those who love us the most.

But that realization isn’t enough, or at least it wasn’t for me. That realization just made me miss Bruce even more. So why the change this year? Why now?

Well, maybe I’m wrong, but I believe it was my journey to survive this year. I think it was my realization this year that life is meant to be lived and appreciated – each moment of each day. There are things that bother us, but in all honesty, they don’t upset me or hurt my feelings the same way they used to… It’s just not worth it. Things happen… people say and do what they do and sometimes it is hurtful. We all do, (and usually don’t even realize it).

But here’s the thing – I am the only one responsible for how I choose to spend each moment… no one else. So, I can either make it a moment worth remembering or make it one I’d rather forget.

I guess, after fighting so hard to even be here, I’d rather have lots of moments worth remembering.

So, if you are reading this, and you are new to loss, or still trying to figure out how to move forward without your loved one, please know that you are in my prayers. And my prayer for you is that you can find that hope again… The hope that life is worth our time and our curiosity. The hope that each day will hold something so precious in store that we wouldn’t want to miss it.

So, on this Eve of Christmas eve, I pray that you will have a Christmas season filled with joy and laughter… and especially hope. Because those are the things that make life all it is meant to be.

“…each day of the journey is precious, yours and mine – we must strive to make it a masterpiece. Each day, once gone, is gone forever.” – John Wooden

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