journey – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love and Grief… The Journey

“I cannot share thy journey, but I can walk beside thee.”
~ Diana Gabaldon, Written in My Own Heart’s Blood

When Bruce and I met and got married, I was still healing from 20+ years of domestic violence. It had left its tole, with a diagnosis of PTSD. On the outside I could smile and act like I had it together. However, there were many residual aftereffects that (try as I might), I couldn’t always control. It was not unusual to wake up in a panic with a need to just “get away.” I can also remember times when I just knew Bruce would be furious with me, because that was the only reaction I had known for too many years.

I’ve told this story before, but it seems appropriate to share it again today. We were in the kitchen cooking together – laughing and being silly. I poured Bruce a beer and went to hand it to him. Somewhere in the exchange, the beer left my hand, but missed his and ended up on the floor – a mess of glass and beer covering the entire kitchen floor. I looked at Bruce and completely panicked. I remember racing to the bathroom, locking myself inside, and sitting on the floor as I cried – terrified of what he might do.

After a few minutes, Bruce quietly knocked on the door and asked to come in. Hesitantly, I opened the door a crack… And he greeted me with a smile. Then he held his arms out to me, and I fell into them… So, relieved that this man was a man I could trust. After holding me for a while, we went back into the kitchen. He smiled at me as he poured himself another beer (in another glass) … Then, looking me in the eye, he held it out… and just let go. Beer and glass once more covered the floor. I was stunned! He, on the other hand, just pulled me close, as he reassured me that he loved me… always… no matter what… and he swore he would never hurt me… ever!

Days later as I shared this situation with my mother, she made the comment, “Bruce is not (insert ex-husband’s name).” She was right, and I would like to say that was all it took. I would like to say that I was fine after that… But learning to manage the memories and trauma of 20+ years can take a while. Bruce, however, never walked away… He was always there by my side. He couldn’t share what I had experienced, but he was determined to stay by my side as I figured out how to move forward.

I won’t lie. It took years before the nightmares and aftereffects were manageable… Then, not long after, I lost Bruce… In a breath, he was gone, and I found myself thrown back to those old terrors. Even once I thought I had my feet back under me, my ex contacted me with the same old verbal attacks and threatening language. My first reaction was one of panic. I sat in the middle of my living room – terrified. Then, it was like Bruce touched my soul to say he was still here… still by my side.

So, this time, I took action… action to protect myself. I knew I could do it, because Bruce taught me that I am worthy, and I am not alone. I know Bruce is with me… Still walking beside me. And whenever, I feel lost about what to do next, all I have to do is stop and remember…

Thank you, Babe!

It has been over eight years, and I still miss Bruce. I hate that he is gone. He changed my world and continues to do so every day. Because of him, I have had the tools I needed to survive this journey (so far). I have come to learn that this journey has a lesson built into every step and every breath. Thank you for the opportunity to share those with you. For all of us, it is easy to feel like this journey is nothing more than a very lonely path, especially since it is so different for each of us. Yet, our love for those we have lost is something we all share. Sharing our stories is 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.*

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Peace, Love and Grief… Things You Taught Me, Part 1

I spent this last week at a spiritual retreat on the coast of Georgia. What a blessing! It was a week of quiet and deep self-reflection. It was a time to think and process without all the noise of daily life and routines… And more important, it was a week of healing. Over the next few weeks, I hope you will humor me, as I share some of what I experienced there and how it has impacted my grief for Bruce and this path we call life…

I spent most of my life caught up in a religion of rules and exclusivity… A religion of “believe or burn” … a religion of fear and distrust… At least, that was the way I experienced it. While I had made my fair share of mistakes, I thought I was doing okay… I was trying to be “devout” and do the “right things.” Then Bruce died, and my world fell apart…

How could a God who loved me, give me this wonderful gift of a man and then just as quickly take it away? Why would he do that? What kind of love is that?

I struggled with those questions (and more)… My grief journey soon included not only my grief for the loss of Bruce, but also, a grief for the loss of my faith. Bruce was gone… My faith and trust in God were gone. I wanted Bruce back more than anything else, but my faith wasn’t something I wanted to think about… I was done.

However, several months later, I had a dream – a dream that started this journey and led me back home to a place in my soul where I had never been before.

Day 1 Reflections:

Hi Babe,
I am supposed to be thinking about whether or not I believe God made me for himself, and if I believe God is big enough for me… That is a big question.

Years ago, I would have said, “No.” After you died, the God I had been taught to believe in was not enough… because I was not enough. I didn’t believe he loved me as I was… And that led to more confusion. I couldn’t understand why he made me (or any of us) at all, if he couldn’t love me as he made me (flawed and imperfect). If I can love my own child – flaws and all, why couldn’t he do the same with me? So, no… I didn’t trust him – not at all.

Then in a dream, you told me, “God is not the God of your parents. He is so much more… And he loves you. He created all of you… each part, and he loves all of you.”

It took me years to move past a concrete religion to a spiritual faith… And you led me there, Babe. Through your legacy, you led me to speakers and books that slowly showed me a different way to believe in God. Now… finally, your statement made early in our relationship makes sense… “Yes,” you said, “I am a Christian, but not in the same way you are.” At the time, I prayed for your soul… When honestly, you had the answer I needed.

Thank you for being my teacher, especially over these past six years.

Dear God, my love,
Thank you for this morning. Thank you for a faith of connection and love versus do’s and don’ts/who’s in and who’s out. Thank you for all the things that led me to this place… on this day… with these people. I am here this week, learning that I am not alone… That is my miracle today, and I am so very thankful. It is so wonderful to know, I really can trust you, even when life feels like it is falling apart around me… I just had to find you. No, you found me (when I was ready). And as you told me, “Linda, don’t worry. If you miss me (and I did for so long), I will find you… And you did.
I love you… Always and Forever!

It’s funny how those we love can still direct us even after they are gone. Bruce left a legacy that I am still unraveling and is still influencing my life… That is a blessing I never expected or knew could exist!

What about you? Have you ever found yourself reading their books, listening to their music or the things that influenced their lives? What have you learned? This journey can be so very hard, but it is even harder to bear alone. I believe we are in this together. None of us are alone, because we have each other. Please feel free to reach out and share your story or thoughts. To do so, go to the comments and leave 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

Thank you.

Peace, Love and Grief… Feeling Stressed… But Finding Strength

This week I heard a story of a grandfather in South America who took his grandson to the seashore one day to witness a spectacular annual event. Early in the morning as they arrived on the beach, a large colony of penguins emerged from the ocean. This particular species of penguin is known for being extremely strong swimmers. In fact, they spend most of their time in the water, and therefore feel quite vulnerable on land. The reason for their annual visit to this particular beach lay about 100 yards away… It is their burrows where they return each year to mate.

As the young boy and his grandfather watched, small groups of penguins would start to waddle toward their burrows, but inevitably, after only a few yards, something would spook them – a shadow, a bird overhead, or even the wind in the scrub or brush nearby. Immediately, the group would turn and scurry back to the water’s edge where they felt strong… and safe. This scenario of slow progression played out all day, until just as the sun was setting, the last group of penguins found the courage needed to brave the 100 yards of open land to their burrows.

At this point, the grandfather turned to his grandson and said, “There will be times in this life when you must leave your safety zone in order to get to the next place you need to be. The journey there may leave you feeling vulnerable, but you must find the courage to face your fears – both real and imagined. The important thing is to never give up… It may take you longer than you (or others) think it should, but as long as you never give up, you have not failed… You have succeeded… and grown stronger in the process.”

As I listened to this story, it really hit home…

My time with Bruce was my “time in the ocean.” It was when I felt safe… It was when I felt strong. The burrows represent my future… my life if I choose to move forward. And finally, the 100 yards of open beach filled with dangers – “both real and imagined” – is my time of grief… My time of learning to live without Bruce by my side.

As time passes, I am moving further up the beach, closer and closer to my burrow. Yet each time I feel hurt or afraid, I want to run back to the shore… back to my time (and memories) with Bruce. BUT my life is ahead of me… I know that… I know I must be willing to be vulnerable and allow myself to grow in order to really live again…

But how?

This week I still found myself trying to figure out how to leave the hurt and judgement from others behind… But as life seems to do, my answer came a few days later in the form of a quote from Theodore Roosevelt…

“It’s not the critic who counts! It’s not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done it better. The credit belongs to the person who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred with blood and sweat and dust, who at the best, in the end, knows the triumph of high achievement, and who, at worse, if he fails, he fails daring greatly!”

Oh, my gosh! How true!

Changes in life are hard! They throw us onto the beach or into the arena… And grief and loss are some of the hardest changes of all. As I make my way on this journey, I know there will be both successes and failures…

But I must remember I am the one in the arena… I am the one “marred with blood and sweat and dust.” And what someone “sitting in the stands” thinks of me doesn’t really matter, because …

I am the one who, day by day… step by step, is daring greatly…

Learning to navigate through this journey is different for everyone… We all move through it at our own pace and in our own way. Have you ever found yourself wishing others could be more patient and less judgmental? Sometimes we just need to be reminded that we are the ones in the arena… And we show courage with each step we take (no matter how small). If you would be willing to share your experience, there may be someone else out there who needs to hear it. If you are someone who needs 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… Feels a lot like whiplash

There is no “happily ever after.”
What happens is
You finally meet someone who loves you so much
They take your breath away.
And in a moment…
In that breath
They show you what love is
And who you really are.
Then in a flash…
In another unexpected moment
They are gone…
And you stand there,
Trying to comprehend something that can never be understood.
And inside…
You die, too.
~ Linda, July 2014

In the insurance world, whiplash is a common injury complaint from those involved in auto accidents. What exactly is whiplash? Well, it occurs when a person is traveling in one direction, but due to a sudden stop or change in direction, the person’s body is also forced to suddenly change direction. When this change occurs too quickly to control the body’s movements, the result can be a “sprain or strain” to soft tissue (usually the muscles of the neck and shoulders), aka – whiplash.

The injury itself is a little bit different from other injuries. For example, it can’t really be seen or proven. Only the person experiencing it knows how real and how painful it actually is. Because of that, other people may or may not believe it is real. In fact, most other people will have an opinion on how long it should take to heal. Yet, research shows us that the severity and time required to heal varies from person to person depending on several, different factors. The main factor, however, is how sudden or violent the change in direction actually was.

So by definition, whiplash is “soft tissue damage which is the result of a sudden change in direction.” Interesting…. because if someone were to ask me, I could define grief the same way – “Soft tissue damage (to my heart) which is the result of a sudden change in the direction of my life.”

I know that for myself, my… no, our life was moving in a wonderful direction. We had plans. We had dreams. We were happy. Then suddenly… in one short breath, everything changed. Bruce died… And with him, our plans, our dreams, and our happiness were suddenly gone. The direction of my life suddenly stopped. The resulting pain to my heart felt was as real as any physical injury, although no one could actually see it. There were times when my chest literally ached… times when I struggled to breathe… And none of this was figurative – It was real.

Just like a whiplash injury, no one could see my pain. I had no way to prove it, and to be honest, I wasn’t really inclined to do so anyway. Then to add to the pain, there were also plenty of people who were more than happy to tell me their opinion of my pain, such as how long it should take me to heal, how much they thought it hurt (or didn’t hurt) and how to “get over it.”

After the shock of the sudden, initial change in direction, I began to realize I had to pick my life back up and start moving again… only this time, my only choice was to go in a totally new direction. A direction I would have to travel alone… with my own plans, my own dreams and searching for my own happiness… There was no more “us,” “we” or “our.”

It has taken 3.5 years, but I can finally say that I am slowly learning to do this. There will be days… maybe even weeks (at this point) where I function quite well. I am able to smile and laugh. I can reach out to others to help and serve.

However, there can still be reoccuring pain, also. For example, this week has been one of “those weeks” that has held some of this pain for me. All week, I have fought and struggled not to let myself spiral down… I have struggled not to cry or dump my pain on the people around me. Why? Because I know that after this much time (3.5 years) combined with the fact that most people see me having more and more “good” days, I’m not convinced people will understand… and I don’t want to deal with their reactions on top of everything else.

Honestly, though, I know I shouldn’t let that get to me… That will only add to my frustration and my pain. Instead, I know what I need. I need to find some time alone… time to stop for a bit and let myself sort through my feelings, acknowledge them, and give myself permission to grieve and probably even cry a little.

Then… just like a whiplash injury, slowly and carefully, I can start to move again… being grateful and loving life once again.

What about you? Does any of this ring a bell with you, as well? Do you know also experience those days of reoccuring pain – when the grief hits you full force? Do you need support right now? Or would you be willing to share your story or your thoughts?

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Yes, and…

I think one of the hardest parts of grieving is the constant feeling of being judged. I know… I’ve talked about this several times before but only because it IS such a constant phenomenon. There seems to be so many people are SO sure they would do things “different,” (aka – “better”). In fact when this whole thing started, I think I even had that same thought process… I was determined… I would to go to a support group, “get better,” and learn to be a “good widow.” HA! What a load of craziness!

At about the 9 – 10 month point, I remember having a conversation with someone that went something like this…

Them: How are you doing this week?

Me: Okay… trying to get get through each day… still really sad and angry. It’s just still so hard to believe this is all real. I just don’t want to accept it.

Them: How about Bruce’s Mom? How is she?

Me: About the same… She is trying, but she is really hurting.

Silence.

Me: She lost her son… that’s not the natural order of things… I think she is struggling… I think she is still deeply grieving. Who could blame her?

Them: Humph… Well,… you two need to remember that you are not the first people to lose a husband or a son. (All the while, this person’s spouse is sitting right beside them and all of their children are alive and well.)

At the time I was so offended by the callousness of those words, I had to end the conversation or risk being rude. Since that day, I have recalled those words many times, and they have always managed to hit me wrong… up until this week.

This week I had one of those moments when I could say, “Yes… and…”

What is “Yes,and?” It is method I have used in meetings and training sessions when I want participants to feel comfortable offering ideas without worry of being made to feel dumb or silly.

It works like this – Whenever someone puts an idea “on the table,” whether the next person agrees or not, they are not allowed to judge or critique the previous idea. Instead, they may only add their idea to “the pile” by saying, “Yes, and… (fill in with another idea.)”

This has always been a great way to get a lot of thoughts and opinions out in the open without confrontation. Then, once all the ideas have been “safely” offered, the real conversation can begin as we add and mix all the ideas and come up with the best solution available… And all because a “safety zone” was created around the initial communication of ideas.

I can’t remember exactly what I was listening to when it hit me, but suddenly I realized…

I can still end any conversation if that is necessary. However, instead of being angry or frustrated when people say things that are hurtful, what if, instead, I responded in my heart with, “Yes and… (fill in with the reality and ideas).”

So right now… today… I want to go back to that conversation and turn it around. In my heart, I can hear it this way now…

Me: Yes, that is true… and because I am not the only one, I can now (3 years later) offer to walk beside someone who is new on this journey. Someone who is hurting, or lost, or angry… Whatever they are feeling, I am now able to come along beside them, either physically or by way of this blog and say, “I am here too. You are not alone. Let me walk beside you. Let me offer you comfort in knowing that you are not alone and together we can figure this out.”

Yes, and trust me when I say…

There is a peace that comes with acceptance,
And a love that is always remembered.
Linda, Sept. 2013

Yes, and… What about you? Are you struggling on this journey? Looking for another soul to walk beside you? OR are you at a point where you are ready to come along and walk beside another?

This is our virtual community. Let us reach out to another. Let us offer the support we know is needed on this journey… Let us not leave anyone to do this alone when there are so many of us out there.

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

Thank you.

Peace, Love and Grief… The tiger in a cage

I am learning.
Healing is finding peace within myself…
Not trying to draw it in from others…
Linda, Septermber 15, 2013

Grief is one of those things that people try to understand while at the same time trying to avoid the experience. I remember being told to “give it time.” In time, my “heart would heal.” However, some people (and books) were actually daring enough to admit that the pain would never completely heal… I remember reading that it would be more like a scar that still caused a dull ache every now and then.

Perhaps both of those experiences are true for some people – however, not for me. After three years, I can say without a doubt, it still hurts… a lot! For me, grief is more like a caged tiger… You may think you have it under control, but you must check the strength of the bars daily just to be safe.

Soon after Bruce passed away, I started tracking my dreams in my journal. I have always believed that our dreams subconsciously tell us a lot about what we are really thinking and feeling. They are our mind’s way of processing our life and emotions. Writing and tracking my dreams has allowed me to acknowledge and deal with a lot of emotions throughout this journey. I wrote about one of those dreams on the morning of January 24, 2013, just two weeks after Bruce’s death.

I don’t think I can survive this. Everyone says I’m doing great, I’m gonna be okay, I’m strong… but I don’t think so. This is more than I can bear. My heart is in pieces. I can’t even breathe and to move feels like a huge chore… This pain is too intense. No wonder some people die of a broken heart. Survival is such a struggle right now… You were my whole world… and now my world is gone.

I woke up last night about 11:30, and the song, The Hurt and the Healer, was playing. (I’ve never heard it before.) Before I woke up, I was dreaming I was on a playground, curled up in one of those baby swings. My guardian angel was pushing the swing and gently coaxing me to climb out. Then, he started singing that song, and I woke up… I think that dream and that song were sent to me for comfort…

This dream was all about my “tiger”… But I don’t believe it was “in its cage” yet. I was only a few weeks into this journey – I was still numb and raw and struggling for air. This was the dream of a woman who wanted to quit… But my life has become a testament of that same woman who has refused to quit.

As I said, for me, grief is like a tiger in a cage. One must learn to live with that tiger because ignoring it is denial and that holds a different set of dangers. Instead, one must learn to be courageous, and acknowledge it. However, never think the tiger has become tame enough for you to simply leave the door open or to go into the cage and sit peacefully beside it. No, it will always be dangerous… It will still devour you if you allow the opportunity.

In the last year, I have learned to decide my attitude before the day begins. I have learned to keep my tiger in its cage by starting the day with gratitude before my feet ever hit the floor. I have learned to be very careful about the first things I “feed” my mind in the morning. I stay away from email, Facebook, the news, or anything that might move my thoughts in a negative direction before I have had time to remember the blessings still surrounding me.

Before I started this practice and on the days I forget, it is like opening that tiger’s cage. It is dangerous territory. There is a saying that the things we focus on, expand. So for me, when the negative stuff is the first thing in, my mind starts to focus on that. Soon that focus turns to my grief and pain… And before I know it, the pain has expanded and takes over my day (or several days).

The other thing I must remember is that I will impact every person I encounter in a day… So my first choice of the day will not only impact me, it will impact everyone I meet, as well. It is up to me to decide if that impact will be a positive or a negative one.

I know that my grief and my pain were never my choice… That is my “tiger.” However, how I deal with it, my attitude and my daily outlook IS my choice. So, whether I choose to let that tiger loose or place it safely in its cage, is up to me.

I am responsible daily for choosing my attitude… And that attitude will determine the impact I have on the world around me.

I don’t always make the right choice… Some days I open up that cage, walk right in and sit for a while. But as time goes on, I am spending less and less time in that cage…

And that is my choice.

Do you have a story to share? A story about coming to terms with your grief? A story of your own tiger and how you handle it?

Please share your story with us… 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

Peace, Love and Grief… The Best Christmas Present

The year was 2004. The day was December 26. I will always remember this as the day I received the best Christmas gift ever. My son and I were off on what I thought was to be a week-long adventure to the Virgin Islands. This adventure, however, lasted much longer than a week… It changed my life.

We flew from SC to St. Thomas and boarded an old sailing schooner christened The Legacy. (If I had been writing a novel, I could not have added better foreshadowing, for the legacy Bruce left is what continues to shape my life.) We were all given a Rum Punch, ushered into the dining room and given forms to fill out for the different ports we would visit.

There were several people at our table. The crewman, in his haste, dropped off a pile of forms for all of us but no pens or pencils. As a teacher (at the time), I always carried a handful of pens and pencils. So, I quickly pulled them out of my backpack and started offering them to the people seated around me.

As fate would have it, Bruce was seated right next to me. He declined, however, and pulled out his own pen. In fact, as the rest of us joked and talked, he sat quietly and filled out his forms – listening but not really taking part in the banter. “Too bad,” I remember thinking. No matter, though… it was a very small ship and within just a few hours we ran into each other again.

It was a magical week for me… the beauty of the islands, time with my son and this new person who made me smile without even trying. The connection between us was so easy and natural. By the end of the week, even the other passengers were taking notice and making comments.

One of these comments was spoken directly to us the last night of the cruise, New Year’s Eve. Someone casually walked by and said, “You two seem to really have something… don’t let it go.” (That threw me a bit,… I hadn’t thought that far ahead.)

Bruce, however, not only took it in stride, he looked me in the eye and added, “They’re right. There is something pretty amazing between us. I don’t want to lose it.” I was shocked… terrified, actually. I had just spent 20 years in a violent marriage and another 3.5 fighting for a divorce. All I wanted was peace in my life… The last thing I was looking for was another relationship.

So, true to my (old) form, I ran away.

Not literally… In reality, I was not nearly so dramatic. I just excused myself and went back to my cabin. However, the next morning, as everyone was preparing to disembark, I told Bruce it wasn’t going to work. I remember many of the excuses I blurted out: “I had fought too long and too hard to be on my own to give it up again.” “We were too different.” “We lived too far apart.” And on and on…

He didn’t argue. True to his own nature, he gave me a gentle kiss and quietly walked away. (Later he was to tell me that he spent a few extra days in St. Thomas watching The Legacy at port. He said he just kept thinking if it was meant to be, it would work out… and he was hoping it was meant to be.) I, however, cried all the way home… somehow I knew I had just walked away from the best thing that had ever happened to me.

But the story (as you know) doesn’t end there.

I sent Bruce an email almost as soon as we were home, told him I had really enjoyed our time together and asked if we could be friends. I added that if I didn’t hear back from him, I understood and would always treasure our week together. Jump ahead 1 month and I was flying to Michigan to see if this thing between us was real or just a ship-board romance… By the end of the weekend, we both knew this was a forever thing. Jump ahead 10 more months and we were married.

Bruce opened up my life like a flower in spring. I experienced real, unconditional love. I learned how a healthy man functions and what a healthy marriage really is. Throughout our marriage, I grew in so many ways. Some of the biggest changes were my self-esteem, my self-confidence and (biggest of all) learning to trust. I loved Bruce with every part of my being and told him daily that he was my hero and the best Christmas present I had ever received.

When Bruce passed away on January 12, 2013, my world went dark. It was completely unexpected, and I found myself thrown backwards emotionally. It was as if all those things I learned with Bruce were gone… my self-esteem, my confidence and my ability to trust… all gone. Not only could I not move forward, I seemed to be spiraling down further and further as time passed.

But that is still not the end of the story…

Even after all those years together, there was still so much about Bruce I didn’t know or understand. I had always recognized that Bruce had an inner peaceful quality that I didn’t have. There wasn’t much that could shake him… he just seemed to take life in stride. Whenever I was stressed or worried, he would remind me that “the river never tries to move the rocks… it just flows around them.” At the time, I used to roll my eyes and tell him he didn’t get it. He would just smile and hug me.

As I found myself at my lowest point, I could hear him repeating this phrase in my mind… and I must say, the rocks in my river were feeling more like boulders. I decided I wanted to know more… I had to know more. So, I have spent the last couple of years, learning about my husband and what made him tick. I have listened to the lectures he listened to; I have read the books he read… And I have come to truly understand the man I married and love.

This past year, I have started traveling down the path Bruce made for me… his legacy for me. My life is once again moving forward in a positive direction because of Bruce. So here I am, as I write this blog on December 26, 2015 – the anniversary of the day we met – knowing without a doubt that I was right all along…

He really was the best Christmas present ever.

This link below is to a song that describes it best. It was the last song we danced to on Christmas Night 2012, just a few short weeks before he passed.

When we lose someone, our lives change drastically. The aspects they added to our life seem to be gone forever. But as time passes, we can learn to pull the best of those aspects into our own lives.

Have you ever felt that way? What did you do? 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 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… Feeling abandoned

Abandoned: having been deserted or cast off… me…

From the beginning, grief has been a journey of many emotions… some conflicting, (which has left me feeling a bit crazy at times). But throughout these 2.5 years, “abandoned” has been my prevalent, on-going emotion. I have felt it since day one and still feel it to this day. Abandoned by Bruce… abandoned by God… abandoned by others… alone.

For those who are just starting on this journey and for those who have never been here, the emotions are strong; the emotions are real… but emotions have nothing to do with logic. To give you an idea, here is my journal entry two weeks after Bruce died:

January 27
Still here… still alone. I can’t help but feel that even God has abandoned me. I know – that makes me horrible, doesn’t it? But how could he give me 23 years with a man that hated me (and still does) but only 8 years with a man that loved me so completely? Someone told me that God allowed (or caused) the abuse with (my 1st husband) because of my sin. It hurt when it was said even though I didn’t believe it then. But now, I wonder…

God must not love me after all. But I don’t really understand… Out of everyone in the world, why can’t he love me?… Why can’t he forgive me, too?

Maybe I am wrong – maybe this is the grief talking. But I don’t understand… why Bruce? How can a God who loves me allow so much hurt? Why? Am I such a bad person?

This feels so wrong, so surreal. Life goes on around me, but I can’t seem to move. In order to move, I have to pretend that everything is fine and shove all the emotions down. I know people are uncomfortable with my grief, so I try really hard to hide it until I am alone. Then, I cry.

I go back to work tomorrow… that feels so scary. How do I do something so normal when my life has been thrown upside down? I feel like everyone who knows is watching me to see if I will fall apart. And for those who don’t know – I want to shout at them to stop… life needs to stop… because my life stopped when Bruce died. I want the whole world to stop for just one moment to honor him… to recognize that he is gone.

How do I ever feel happy – truly happy – again? I just want to crawl in a hole. It takes everything in me to get out of the bed. I can’t sleep… instead I lay there, imagining he is still there, too… still holding me…

There are a lot of thoughts and feelings that I don’t tell anyone. They won’t understand. They already spend so much energy trying to make me “not sad.” That doesn’t make me mad, but it doesn’t really work either. It just makes me want to be alone – to get inside my own head with my own thoughts. Then, I can imagine him still here. Oh my God, I need him so much!

I don’t think I can do this… it is too hard… too much is expected and all I want is to be with Bruce again – to love him and feel him next to me…
but that is something I can never have again… I am alone now.

That was 2.5 years ago… the feelings were so intense then. I can’t say they are gone now… they aren’t – they are still here… but the intensity is less. Some weeks are harder than others and some days are harder than others… this week has been both.

At work, things are changing quickly… many of my friends have moved on to new jobs. At home, my closest friends are planning to move within the year. On a rational level, I am so happy for all of them… Their lives are moving on as they should. However, on a personal level, I am faced with that overwhelming feeling of abandonment, once again.

This week I felt like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz when she says, “People come and go so quickly here.”

I hate these feelings. This week, I have found myself wanting to do what I always do – pull inside… hide or run away emotionally.

Instead, I am pushing myself to stay in the game. I am trying really hard to stay strong. The problem is – I don’t feel strong and there are very few people I trust enough to be honest about how I feel. I would give anything to have someone who loves me – who cares about me – to hold me… no words… Just take me in their arms, let me lay my head on their shoulder and cry.

But that isn’t going to happen… not today. So instead, I will smile and tell you I am fine…

They say it gets easier,
But it doesn’t.
The pain is still there,
Still strong, barely contained below the surface.
Waiting for that moment…
The moment when I am unprepared –
When I relax for a second.
And there it is, pouring out…
As tears slide down my cheeks;
And the pain is so great it is physically debilitating.
But I’m not allowed to show it.
No one wants to see it or hear it anymore.
I can only turn to myself for comfort.
There are no arms to hold me;
No gentle touch to wipe my tears.
No words of love or comfort.
Just my memories of us…
And the awful knowledge that
This is all too real.
~ Linda, Oct 12, 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… Growing accustomed to the loneliness

There is a song from the musical, My Fair Lady** that goes like this:

I’ve grown accustomed to her face
She almost makes the day begin
I’ve grown accustomed to the tune
That she whistles night and noon
Her smiles, her frowns
Her ups, her downs
Are second nature to me now
Like breathing out, breathing in
I was serenely independent and content before we met
Surely I could always be that way again and yet
I’ve grown accustomed to her looks
Accustomed to her voice
Accustomed to her face**

Well, change the “She’s” and “Her’s” to “He’s” and “His” and that seems to be my dilemma. Bruce seems to always be in my thoughts… always a part of of me. In so many ways that is comforting, but it also creates a loneliness that I can’t seem to shake – no matter how hard I try to pretend it isn’t there.

I’ve spent the past 4 weeks with family. It has been craziness and chaos compared to my “normal” life… in other words, it has been wonderful! Don’t misunderstand, even with the commotion of a 5 year old boy (“Almost six, GG!”), I have had my moments of loneliness and grief. The difference is the fun and love-filled distractions that I have felt.

This week, though, it was time for them to go home… now it is quiet… overwhelmingly quiet… deafening quiet… a quiet that is completely filled with loneliness. It is a time of readjusting (again) to my “new normal.”
Only it’s not so new… why do I still feel so lonely. I’ve always been one to cherish my “alone time”… It’s where I regroup and gather my energy. But this is different… There is no choice in this and there is no end. It is what will always be.

Have you ever driven through Kansas? It doesn’t matter what road you are on, it all looks the same. It goes on and on… and on – no turns; no change in scenery. That is what this loneliness feels like… no matter how far down the road I look, it is the same… there appears to be no hope for anything different.

Today my eyes kept leaking… I was determined not to cry but the tears were just as determined to find their way down my cheeks. I just miss him.

I miss his smile and the way his eyes literally sparkled whenever he was happy. I miss just laying in his arms, looking into his eyes and talking. I miss watching him BBQ on the porch in his barefeet while dancing. I miss his kisses to start each morning and his hugs at the end of a rough day. I miss holding hands in the car and while we watched TV. I miss cooking together on Sunday nights and feeding each other as we worked together. I miss it all… all those little things that you grow accustomed to… All those things that are no more… All those things that will never be again.

Now the challenge is how to grow accustomed to this loneliness. It has been 2.5 years. Most people just assume I am “over it.” Only my closest friends and my kids can tell when it is a rough day. The rest of the world has done what it should – it has moved on… why can’t I?

Why do I still want him to be here when I walk through the door? Why (every morning) do I still look beside me in the bed to see if he is there? Does anyone ever really grow accustomed to this? Or do we just get really good at pretending? I remember my grandmother lived another 20 years after my grandfather died. Even then, she would have days where she would wear his sweater because she “needed to feel him hugging her.” I know that feeling…

This week is a struggle but unlike when Bruce first died, now I know that I will grow accustomed to this loneliness (this unending quiet) again. I know that I will smile again… I will laugh again. I will have good days and bad days… again. (Hopefully, more good ones than bad.) I have no expectations from other people at this point. That would be ridiculous… life moves on, and they all have other needs – other concerns. This is my journey… my story. I have to figure this one out.

Until then, my eyes may leak a little more than I want them to, and people may tell me I am too emotional… That’s okay. I am still moving forward… I am still making progress.

I am still growing accustomed to the loneliness…

Do you also know this feeling? Have you been where I am? 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 or just sharing an emotion can make us feel validated and bring us closer.

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

** “I’ve Grown Accustomed To Her Face” was written by Alan Jay Lerner; Frederick Loewe

Peace, Love and Grief… We all have those days

Happiness is a daily choice…
Some days I am better at it than others.
~ Linda, January 26, 2015

Let me start by saying, “Yes, I am well aware that last week’s blog sounded like a pity party.” It was! I admit it… I even knew it when I posted it, but I posted it anyway. Why? Because it was real… And because if this blog is an honest look at how I deal with loss (my grief journey), then it needs to include the good and the bad. I have to be honest about those days when I can keep my attitude in check and those days when I don’t.

Yes, I was feeling sorry for myself, but whether you are grieving or not, most of us have days just like that. That is not a phenomenon only relevant to those grieving. We’ve all been there at some point. Therefore, it shouldn’t be hard to empathize when we see someone else going down that road.

Last week, I was very tempted to change the blog entirely and write it as if I had handled the day well, remained positive and had a “life lesson” for the world. I laugh though, because that would have been false. In fact, since it wouldn’t have been genuine, it may have sounded a bit preachy. (Yuck!) But worst of all, if I were not honest, someone else who was having a “feel-sorry-for-myself” kind of day might have felt they were wrong or unusual. That would go directly against what I hope to achieve with this blog… an understanding that feelings are feelings. They are neither right nor wrong. It is what you do with them that makes a difference in your life.

I guess I could be embarrassed about what I felt last week, but I feel that it is something we have all felt at one time or another – loss or no loss. I’m glad I simply put it out there, and I’m thankful for the people who contacted me and said they “got it” – they have had days just like that, too.

This is one way where a grief journey isn’t so different from any other journey. We all have challenges. We all have bumps in the road. Sometimes we can maneuver around them or gently roll over them without a problem, and other times they knock us to the other side of the road. There is no “wrong” on this journey… it is about doing the best you can day to day – moment to moment. Sometimes that isn’t a pretty picture – but it’s real.

After 2+ years of missing Bruce, I wish I had it all figured out. I wish I could say I am okay with my life every moment of every day… but I can’t… because I’m not. Who could? We all have frustrations and no one needs the added pressure of feigning perfection.

So what do you do with a day like that? Here’s a thought… “pity party” days are not healthy or positive, but they are normal. The trick lies in:

1. Recognizing it for what it is. It is a bad moment in time, but it doesn’t have to determine what comes next.

2.Not blaming anyone else for what you are feeling. No one controls your feelings but you. Someone may say or do something that affects you but you get to decide what to do with that.

And

3. Making the choice to get back on your feet and move past it. I know, it’s not as simple as it sounds but it is truly your choice and no one else’s.

Don’t get me wrong, I have days when I get to the end and I am proud of how I have handled my day. But I also have days when I look back and think, “Well, that wasn’t my best… but tomorrow is a new day.” I look at it this way – just the fact that I can recognize when I fall down, is a success… Because once I recognize it, I can start to pull out of it.

My point this week?

No matter what your path, we are not so different. We have more in common than we might care to acknowledge. No one has all the answers and that is more than okay with me. I want to be the best “me” possible – I strive for that. But I find it comforting to know I can learn to accept myself – warts and all. And deep down, I realize I like me… and I’m worth the work.

Furthermore, this week’s blog is not just for people dealing with physical loss. This week’s loss is more about losing your own perspective of yourself and the power within each of us to choose our attitude in each moment of each day.

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