Tag: it still hurts

Peace, Love, and Grief – In the Beginning

There is no easy way to say that someone has died. It will always sound abrupt, maybe because a life cut off is an abrupt experience. I think that has been on my heart since my friend and neighbor died last weekend. I have spent this week struggling with the idea that he is gone… that his smile and “Hi, Linda” will never again be a part of my days.

I have sat with his wife and felt my heart breaking for her… This is a pain I would never want anyone to experience. I know her experience will be different than mine. Yet, I also know that the road in front of her can be hard and filled with emotions that no one can prepare for ahead of time… Someone might be able to tell you about the hurt, but even that bit of information cannot even begin to prepare you for what is ahead.

Grief is hard and no one can tell you how to do it nor can they go through it for you. The best anyone else can do is to come along beside you and walk with you… holding you up… crying with you… or just sitting in the silence with you.

I really don’t have any words of comfort for my friend who is now on my journey… I wish I did. I wish I knew some magical words to make it all better… or that I could give her a list of tasks and say, “Work your way through these and you will feel a lot better.” But there are no magic words, nor is there a list of things that will take the pain away… I know… I tried.

There are things that will help you navigate this journey and learn to live again, but those vary according to each person and their experience. For now, I will be content to be with her in whatever capacity she needs.

With that in mind, I have spent this week thinking about those first few weeks and months. I even pulled out my journal from that time, just to re-immerse myself in those feelings and my thoughts on what I needed back then when everything felt so raw. These are some of those words from the first two weeks after he was gone…

“Oh God! This is too hard! I can’t do it. God is expecting too much from me. It’s been a week – he needs to come back! All last night I kept thinking – these were our last few moments together. I kept trying to remember his smile, his touch, that last kiss goodnight… I just want 1 more hour – 1 hug… 1 smile… 1 more evening spent snuggling on the couch. I need to lay my head on his chest while he strokes my back and tells me it’s all going to be okay… But I don’t get any of that and it’s not going to be okay. I can’t even breathe without him. Oh God, how am I going to do this?”

“I don’t think I can do this. I miss him so much! I can’t do this by myself. I always told him that I could never do this alone. He would smile, kiss me, and promise me he’d be here… but he’s not! This is our house. This is our bed. So, where is he? Why isn’t he here? Why did he leave me… alone?”

“I don’t know how I am going to do this. I feel so consumed. The days get harder and harder. I know that no one can stay forever, but I am dreading being along all the time. I can’t bring myself to start cleaning out his things… What if this is some huge mistake? What if he comes home? I know… he isn’t coming back. I know what the reality is… I just want him back so badly.”

“This sucks! I am so lonely. Today will be my first day alone. I’m scared… I guess it’s just as well. I have to learn to be alone sometime. And I know everyone else has lives that they need to get back to… I wish I did. I wish I could go back to “our” life together. I wish I could get in my car and drive back to my life with Bruce. I can see how people die of a broken heart, when 1 spouse dies and the other dies soon after. I love my family, and I don’t want my kids to ever hurt like this, but being here without Bruce is just wrong. It is too hard. We love each other – not loved – still love each other. It isn’t a switch. I can’t just turn it off. I still love him. We had plans and dreams… Why? Why is this my reality?”

“Last night was hard. Reality hit… I am no longer the center of anyone’s world. From now on, I will be behind whatever is going on in someone else’s life. I understand that. It is the way it should be. Still, it is hard to know that there is no more Bruce who loves me first and foremost. He had a way of making me feel so important… but that is gone now, and I need to accept that. Is it okay to feel sorry for myself about this for just a little while? Can I grieve that too or am I being selfish? I just want to crawl in a hole. I know I am an emotional drain on everyone around me… I want to be who I was… I want to be happy… But I don’t know how to feel that again… At least, not yet. I love you, Babe. I love you so much! The love won’t stop and now it has nowhere to go.”

Those words have been hard to read after all this time. I took it in small spurts, but it was still hard. With each page, all those same feelings came rushing back into my world… Feelings of being abandoned and utter loneliness… Feelings of hurt and pain and having zero direction – like turning in circles in the middle of a forest and having no idea where to take my first step to find my way out of there. These words were written a long time ago, but the emotions are all still there – still just under the surface of my heart.

Loss is hard… Grief is hard… The start of the journey feels impossible. Yet, with the love and support of good people I have very slowly made my way back to a world where I can experience joy and happiness… A world where I can laugh again without feeling guilty… Yet, I would still love to be able to get in my car and drive back to my life with Bruce… A life I will always remember with love and cherish down to the deepest parts of my soul.

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

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

This is a weekly blog, for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief
* Be advised that all comments are subject to approval prior to posting. Any comments determined to be spam or not in accordance with the mission of this website/blog will not be approved or posted. Furthermore, any comments determined to be hostile in nature will be reported to the proper authorities. Thank you.

Peace, Love, and Grief… Where is My Focus

I have good friends.
I have good family.
I am in a good place.
So, why does it still hurt so bad?
~ Linda, 2021

In my morning readings this week, I came upon a list of the “Keys to Happiness”. The very first one stated, “Happiness is a choice.” Hmmm… I have heard this many times before and always find it interesting. As if our sadness, grief, depression, or whatever we are dealing with should be put aside, ignored, and is somehow our choice and our fault.

I am sure there are those who swear by this mantra, and (to a point) I get it. Generally speaking, I am a positive person. As a past performer, I know, as well as anyone, how to smile at the world when everything on the inside is falling apart. But let’s be honest… happiness isn’t our only emotion… And how healthy is it really to ignore all other emotions and only allow “happiness” – real or pretend – into our lives. I believe it is healthier to feel and work through those other emotions and situations, so that we can be our full, authentic self versus a pretend shadow of who we really are.

Don’t get me wrong… I understand the importance of knowing when and where to do that work, plus the added responsibility of implementing some emotional regulation and control. But completely ignoring all other emotions besides happiness isn’t realistic nor healthy for anyone.

Instead, I think it is more about where we decide to place our focus on any given day and at any given moment…

When Bruce first died, I heard all about this “new normal” that I needed to adjust to – the sooner the better, supposedly. Then, I was told that time would heal… That was all I needed – time. Yet, when that didn’t turn out to be the case, I was told that it was like an injury – the scar or limp would always be there, but the pain and such would fade – remembered but no longer really hurting. Again… That has not been my reality.

Instead, I have found it to be more like an object lesson about focus that we used to use with our kids in school…

Picture a dime… It’s small – not big at all. You can easily hold it between two fingers or hide it in your fist. Now, if you take that dime and hold it close to your face… So close that it blocks almost everything else from your view. At that point, it demands your focus. You have no choice since it is (almost) the only thing you can see. However, as you pull it further away – further back – the rest of the world starts to open up to you again. You can see all the things that were blocked before. Now… that dime is still there. It is the same size it has always been. You can still see it and hold it, but it no longer demands all your focus.

Grief is like that dime… There are days where that grief (dime) is simply a part of the landscape. You know it is there. You can see it, and you can even feel it when you let yourself think about it. In fact, it can easily take over your entire field of vision, if you focus on it a lot (or “too much” according to some). At that point, the pain becomes intense and everything else fades back into the background.

In the beginning, this was every moment of every day. Throughout the years, I have learned to hold that grief far enough out, so that most days I can see and enjoy the rest of my world. My grief isn’t gone; it just isn’t my entire focus. Instead, it is another piece in my life’s tapestry.

However, even now after all this time, there are still days when that grief does blot out everything else… And it isn’t like a scar or a limp… The pain and loneliness are just as strong and just as real as on day one. The only difference is that now, I have a better idea of how to handle it… and a better understanding of how to work through those moments so I can be stronger for the next one.

This week, as the anniversary of Bruce’s death approaches, that grief is getting closer and closer… Each day it seems to be blocking out more and more of the rest of my world. I understand why and I know that it will pass… But I also know that for the next several days, it will be my focus… And by acknowledging it and working through it, I believe I am being much healthier and kinder to myself, than if I ignored it and pretended I didn’t feel it at all.

There is a pain so intense
So deep
It cannot be healed.
It is my soul crying out for yours…
~ Linda, 2015

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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone… and at certain times of the 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. Our lives are now filled with challenges we 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. This next week will hold a lot of challenges for me, as I face the anniversary of Bruce’s death, but my goal is to look at this new year before me and find 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.

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… Smiling on the Outside

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

When Bruce first died, the pain and grief were intense. If someone had asked me to put it on a scale from 1 – 10, I would have said 10+++. The pain was horrific. There were days when it even hurt to breathe. No… A “10” would not even begin to describe how much it hurt. Over time, however, one would think that would change… It seems logical that over time that number would go down. The pain would lessen. At this point, (after all these years) perhaps it should only be a 1 or 2. But I’m here to tell you, that’s not the way it works… Not on the inside, anyway.

I should have known that was not going to happen. So many times, from the very beginning, I heard or read that the pain of grief never heals… Everything I read said it would be like a scar – healed over yet never the same.

I have to say, I disagree…

It has been over 4 years, since Bruce died… And if I had to give this journey a number now, it would easily still be an 8… And some days maybe even still a 10. Also, I would not describe this as a mere scar. It is more like a wound that is still angry and tender. Yet, somehow, the skin has managed to grow over it, and it is far from healed.

All it takes is something simple – a song on the radio, a memory out of nowhere, even a gesture from a stranger – and the tears start to form. But, what do I do? In the beginning, I cried… I felt what I felt. However, at this point in time, I usually suck it back in. I have things to do, places to go and people to see, and the last thing I want is for anyone to see me crying about something no one can fix. Besides, (and probably even more to the point) I don’t want to explain that, yes, after all these years, I am still hurting… I still miss Bruce and I still want our life back.

Back when all of this was new and the pain was fresh, people were understanding of my grief and my feelings. They were patient, and they were kind. After all this time, though, even I wouldn’t have imagined it would still hurt like this. So, of course, people don’t get it… After all this time, they are pretty sure there must be something wrong with me. After all, …

  • Why can’t I just get over it already?
  • Why don’t I just think about something else?
  • Why don’t I go out and meet someone else and move on?
  • What the hell is wrong with me, anyway?

Honestly, I ask myself these same questions. Actually though, there is nothing wrong with me… The reality is – this is all quite normal. In fact, from what I have read and heard from other widows(-ers), we all tend to put on a smile for the rest of the world, while on the inside we are crying and kicking and screaming – rebelling against this whole fiasco which is now our life.

At the same time, I can’t really blame anyone else for what they are thinking. I wouldn’t have expected this, so how could they? They’ve never been here. They have no idea what this is really like… And as long as I keep smiling on the outside, no one can know the ugly truth of what it really feels like to lose your best friend and soulmate… What it is to be absolutely lonely – always the outsider looking in – never quite sure where or if you fit in anywhere at all.

Yet, at the same time, I don’t really want to talk to anyone about it anymore. I don’t know what I would say that I haven’t already said before… Besides, they are probably as tired of hearing it, as I am of feeling it… The problem is I do feel it…

And I think those feelings may be around for a bit longer.

Everyone deals with grief’s emotions in their own way and for as long as they need to… These are only my thoughts and observations this week as I found myself smiling on the outside while I cried on the inside. Maybe grief has been that way for you, as well. Learning to navigate this journey tends to show us we are stronger than we thought, and yet, always vulnerable. If any of this feels familiar, we are here, you are not alone. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. *

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

* 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… And time moves on

It Still Hurts

Sometimes I can’t breathe for the pain of it.
Other times I smile and laugh at the thought of our memories.
You were always that way…
making me smile or laugh when I wanted to cry…
when the pain was so bad.
Now my heart hurts…
truly, physically hurts with the missing of you.
I feel your soul;
I know you are here.
But I need to see your eyes and your smile;
Feel the comfort of your arms.
I want to breathe in your presence
and feel your love in all these things.
But that isn’t to be…
All I have are the memories;
The memories of our love…
And…
Sometimes I can’t breathe for the the pain of it.
~ Linda, Oct. 19, 2013

I remember when I wrote that poem. It had been 10 months since Bruce died. For the rest of the world, their lives were back in order. (At least that is the way I saw it.) But, not for me. My life was still upside down. I was still experiencing all the “dreaded firsts,” and I still had 2 more months to go before I would finish that “first year.”

I don’t know why, but there is a notion or a feeling that if you can get through (aka survive) that first year, it will all be okay… You will feel better… Life will start to feel normal again.

That, my friends, is a lie.

I remember starting that second year with so much hope that I would feel better, cry less and hurt less. But what I found was I still grieved; I still cried, and I still hurt. Life was still marching forward, but I still seemed to be out of step with the rest of the world.

On January 23, 2014, (after the one year anniversary of Bruce’s death) I wrote:

Good morning , Babe… Sad today… miss you so much. I know I’m doing better ’cause I have more and more good days, but today I am sad… went to bed sad, cried most of the night and woke up sad… Something about walking into the bedroom and knowing that I was  crawling in to this bed without you… again, was too much. I just miss you! I try not to let myself dwell on it too much because it gets me too down, but other times, I need to let it out… It’s been forever since I felt the touch of your love, Babe.

A few days later on February 4, I wrote:

Hi Babe! Loving you this morning… I cried myself to sleep (again) last night. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever not cry myself to sleep… or miss you so bad my heart feels like it will rip in half. Still kinda teary this morning. The thing is – now (because it has been more than a year) I feel like I have to hide it… It is so frustrating!

Even this week, I found myself struggling and wrote:

Hi, Babe! I am really missing you tonight! How can this be real? Here I am – 3 years later – and still half expecting you to walk though the door – OR – to wake up and find this has been one horrible nightmare. I sit here at my desk looking at pictures of us and I remember all the smiles and all the love. I’ll never understand why it had to end or how to make the hurting stop. I think… No, I know, what we had was so special and I’ll never stop loving you! It took us so long to find each other that we never took “us” for granted. I have no regrets for how we spent our time together. But I never thought our time together would be so short. It went by so fast.

Why am I sharing this? What is the point?

My point is this – the pain never really goes away. It is as if you broke a leg but never had it set correctly… it just healed as it was. You learn to live with it… You learn to laugh and walk and maybe even run, but it is never the same.

Over the last 3 years, I have learned to crawl, then walk… and even run. I have learned to laugh again. I have learned to dance again. I have learned to live life again. I have learned to trust that God or the universe or whatever you want to call it has not abandoned me, is not against me nor is he punishing me… In fact, he loves me and has my back.

I know I was blessed… I know I still am. Bruce’s purpose on this earth was completed before mine, and that is a sad reality that I have to accept. ( But I hate it!) However, the fact that we had a life together at all is a miracle.

I have come to understand that my life now is determined by my perspective… Some days are easier than others. Some days are harder than others… and that is actually normal. But ultimately…  it is my choice.

What do I know… even when days are hard?

I know there are still lessons for me to learn and a purpose for me to explore.

If you have experienced loss, you have probably learned lessons, too. This is our community, please share your story with us. Feel free to share your thoughts and experiences by going to the comments and leaving a note.*

Maybe you learned something different… 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

* 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.