Tag: lessons

Peace, Love and Grief… And the Learning Continues

I know life is one long learning experience… I also know the minute we think we have it all figured out, life will throw us a curve ball. However, when it happens it is hard to see it as an opportunity to learn. For me though, this grief journey seems to have taken this same idea and multiplied it. Even the little things I think I have learned came around over and over. These last few weeks have been no exception. I have felt myself sinking lower and lower, and struggling to find a way out. This weekend, I spent some time on the beach putting my thoughts to paper and letting out the emotions.

Dear Babe,

Hi! I took today off… I just needed some time here on the beach… with you. Life has gotten so busy these days. Don’t get me wrong – I prefer this busyness to being alone, but lately it has felt a bit overwhelming. So much of the time, I feel numb going from one thing to the next. So, today is a “me” day… and right now is “us” time. I think this is what I need to get my bearings once again.

When I told Michael I was heading to the beach today, he responded, “Want to spend time with Papa?” Even he knows you are still my rock… my safe space in the storm. I read an article today written by someone (“an old man”) who has grieved many people. It was so accurate. He described the waves that come over you – even years later… And how that is normal. (Which is good to know since I was beginning to think I was losing it.) *

Lately, I have seen the waves on the horizon… I know the next three months are my hardest. It is one special day after another – each one a reminder you are not here, and I am alone… a reminder of what we had and how much I miss you… a renewal of anger, frustration, and confusion about why… Almost five years later and I still don’t get it… Why did it have to be this way? Why do I still wake up each day to a broken heart when I realize you aren’t there beside me?… I know this is real… I know it isn’t a dream… But it is still hard to accept.

I have let myself cry most of the day today… something I haven’t done in months. I think I needed it though. It’s one of those things I used to do as much as I needed, but now it is different. Now, I try to be aware of those around me, and how it affects them. I know it causes them distress. Yet, when I hold it in, I think that affects them, as well.

I don’t know exactly how, but my daughter can sense it. She is great about letting me have the time I need – like this time today, more time tomorrow and all of next weekend. She knows this time of year is hard for me. And while I know my grief is hard for her, she gives me this… This gift of time to grieve freely. She will call me out if I sink too low or become too negative… But her support is incredible, and I am thankful.

It’s weird but this past summer when I was struggling, someone else commented that I was “putting out a lot of negative vibes.” That really hurt to hear at the time, but I couldn’t argue it… I still can’t – They were right. They knew that wasn’t my normal behavior, but they didn’t know what was going on. I, on the other hand, couldn’t talk about it. Maybe I wasn’t willing or maybe I felt they can’t understand how much I still hurt, because they’ve never experienced it… I felt I couldn’t explain it because it can only be experienced. To be honest, my daughter doesn’t understand it either, she just understands me… But, I guess that seems to work.

As for the rest of the world, these next few months are ones of joy and celebrations. I will have to balance that with my own need to grieve and feel what I feel. Sometimes that is really hard… Does any of this even make sense, Babe?

I still miss you so much! Did you know when you died, it feels like most of me died too? I’m definitely not the person I was. When we met, I was excited about life and so naïve about people. You always smiled, but warned me to be careful… Now, I am quiet, not so trusting and pretty content to be alone with my family or my own thoughts. I don’t know… maybe all of this is a relatively normal part of the process.

Life really knocked the wind out of me when you died, and I don’t think I’ve gotten my breath back yet… Maybe that’s not entirely true. I guess, I have for the most part… But when the waves hit (like now), it still feels so overwhelming. Then, I come here… And between the waves and the writing, I can let go… I can cry… I can breathe… I remember… And I smile.

I miss you… I would give anything to have you here beside me. I’ll never understand why that wasn’t to be… But I am so thankful for what we did have… So thankful to have known real love – even if it was only for a little while.

My heart will always be yours, Babe… Always and forever, I will love you!

* The article: http://beautythings.info/2017/09/24/when-asked-for-advice-on-how-to-deal-with-grief-this-old-man-gave-the-most-incredible-reply/

This weekend was good for me. Thinking things through, writing things down and just letting myself feel what I did was very healing. The rest of this weekend, I have started to feel more positive… More like me. It’s strange, but as the old man in the article says, I “know that somehow <I> will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but <I’ll> come out.” That seems to be the lesson, I am learning over and over… The lesson that “The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don’t really want them to. But you learn that you’ll survive them. And other waves will come. And you’ll survive them too.” *

I am so thankful for this group. Your notes and messages are heartfelt, and I feel close to you through the experiences we share. Through these stories and thoughts we share, I hope others will realize what they feel is normal… We are all dealing with some pretty intense, emotional stuff, and none of us needs to handle this alone. Learning to navigate this journey is different for each of us. It brings its individual challenges and lessons. Through it we come to realize we are stronger than we thought we were. 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… The other side

… Show me I’m not alone.
~ Linda, February 14, 2014

This week was a little bit unusual for me. Call it a lesson or a reminder – whatever you call it doesn’t matter. What matters is I needed it… I needed to be reminded what it is like to be on the other side of loss. The side that is looking on; the side that wants to be supportive but isn’t quite sure how.

At the beginning of the week a friend of mine lost her daughter. My heart broke for her as she dealt with all those crazy emotions that make up grief… all the while trying to be “brave” for everyone around her. Why do we try so hard to hide that pain? Why do we feel the need to “protect” the world from something we will all experience at some point in our lives?… I don’t know, but we do.

In an effort to say something, I found myself wanting to say all those cliches that drive me so crazy. I may have even said one or two before I caught myself. How ridiculous is that? After all this time, I know better… but so many of those phrases are so ingrained in us. After all, this is what we’re “supposed” to say, right? And I wanted so badly to lift her pain – to make her feel better.

I found myself trying to convince her to feel better before I started actually listening to myself. Then I shut up because I remembered… I remembered what is was like to lose little baby Matthew and what is was like to lose Bruce. I remembered that all I wanted was someone to let me feel whatever I was feeling with no judgement or words. Someone willing to just be there… Someone to just listen or hold me while I cried.

A few days later I came across a scene on my way to work that shook me to my core. My drive is about an hour on a two lane highway through the marsh. As I came around a bend in the road, I saw several police cars, the County Coroner and a small sedan with the back passenger door open – all parked on the side of the road. There was no apparent crash or people. “Weird,” I thought. Then I saw something laying on the side of the road. Then I saw three of them… bodies (not even covered to protect them from the rain).

I have no idea who these people were or what transpired there. All I know is I started to cry… I cried for the people laying there. I cried for their families. I cried for the policemen and the men working this scene. But mostly I cried for all of us… for this world that can’t seem to figure out how to live in peace with one another.

Then there was today… I spent today with two men – George and Bob. I was working as a volunteer at an event for homeless vets. While this event is intended for our homeless veterans, no one is turned away. It is a one day event in which the homeless from several counties are offered food and clothing. On top of that, our homeless vets are offered such services as health screenings, job placement and benefits counseling.

As our homeless enter the event, a volunteer escort greets them. We spend the day with these men and women. We eat meals with them and help them find the services they need but most important, we are their friend… We talk to them and listen to their stories.

The first year I volunteered, it was a few months after Bruce died. I found myself wanting to do something for someone else… I wanted to forget about my own loss and spend some time focusing on someone else. I went with the intention of helping them… of making a change in their world. But every year, I find that I am the one that is blessed. I always know in my soul that I have gained so much more than I have given.

Today when I met George, he barely talked at first. In fact, the first thing he said to me (that was audible) was “I hate women.” I was a little surprised but not insulted. I just smiled and told him that if he would like we could go back to the front and find a gentleman to walk with him instead. It would be fine – it was no problem. “No,” he said. “I think I might like you okay.” Then he paused for minute and said, “It’s people I don’t trust… I haven’t really talked to anyone in about 10 years… You seem okay though… Maybe I won’t mind talking to you.”

So we sat down to breakfast and I listened. I listened to George tell me his life story. A story of how he had gone from being a Navy man, husband and father of three “beautiful” boys to the man he is now – a man who lives in a tent way back in the woods… alone.

He doesn’t beg for money. (He was very adamant about that.) Instead, he goes early in the morning (before the rest of the world is awake) to find money that people have dropped in the parking lots of bars. He says he can find anywhere from $1 – $10 a day. “People are clumsy after they have been drinking,” he told me. “They reach in their pockets for their keys and never notice when money falls out, too. I can usually find enough to buy some food.”

He was so proud to share pictures of his tent and his friends. His tent is extremely tidy and furnished. (It was like something out of Swiss Family Robinson.) His friends are the racoons and the cats in the area. He has named all of them and described each one and their personality. We talked all morning and on through lunch before he was ready to go back home.

It was then that he insisted on giving me a gift – one of the new items he had received today. I kept trying to explain that I didn’t need it. “I know that,” he said. “But I want to give it to you anyway…” Then, very quietly, “It’s my way of thanking you if that’s okay.”

I feel so blessed this evening as I write this. I know without a doubt that George and Bob were in my life today for a purpose… a purpose they will never know. Isn’t it that way for all of us? We never know whose life we are touching or affecting.

Whether we are the ones dealing with loss and being supported or the ones trying to offer support, it doesn’t matter. What matters is showing each other we are not alone.

It is the relationships and people in our lives that matter and make life worth living. Even if our words or actions come out wrong or clumsy, it is better than doing nothing. As long as we never lose our connections to one another – our relationships with each other – we can learn to lean on each other, support one another and survive our losses.

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

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

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

* Be advised that all comments are subject to approval prior to posting. Any comments determined to be spam or not in accordance with the mission of this website/blog will not be approved or posted. Furthermore, any comments determined to be hostile in nature will be reported to the proper authorities. Thank you.

Peace, Love and Grief… Life lessons in Jamaica

When this blog posts (a day late), I will have just returned from a beautiful week-long cruise with one of my daughters, her husband and my grandson. However, as I am starting to write, I am sitting in a hotel in Alabama contemplating the remainder of my drive to the NOLA port and the upcoming cruise.

While I am excited to have time to relax with people I love, I am a little bit anxious… this is my first cruise since Bruce passed. Cruises were our thing… We met on a cruise, honey mooned on a cruise, cruised with my daughter and her husband on their honey moon. (It was fair. She went on our honey moon cruise, too. : ) ) In fact, when we lived in Michigan, we had a sailboat with a small cabin, and spent many summer weekends on our own mini cruises.

But that is only part of my anxiety about this cruise… When you are grieving, most “firsts” without your loved one are encountered during the first year. Yet, here I am 2+ years later experiencing another first.

The Christmas before Bruce passed, we gave each other a trip to Jamaica which we scheduled for March. Bruce had been before and was so excited to take me and show me around. (He had planned every detail from a beach side bungalow and had a romantic, private, beach side dinner to day trips all over the island.) But that trip never happened… he died a few weeks after Christmas. I couldn’t bring myself to go alone, so I cancelled that trip… not sure if Jamaica would ever be in my future.

This cruise, however, makes a stop in Jamaica. I am excited to finally get there, but it is bittersweet to go without Bruce.Thankfully, I will still be with people I love.

This is my journal entry for that day and the lesson life taught me in Jamaica…

Day 3 – Montego Bay:

Today we are in Jamaica. We docked in Montego Bay while we were eating breakfast. This morning I was so nervous and anxious about this port of call that I was sick to my stomach. My grandson chatted all through breakfast telling me all about the island – its national bird, the flag, and everything else his mother taught him in preparation for this trip. By 9 AM, we were off the boat, sitting on our tour bus and I was feeling calmer. We had a 2.5 hour drive ahead of us as we headed to the other side of the island for a tour of the Appleton Rum Estate and Distillery.

The tour guide, who called herself “Momma”, asked if anyone was prone to car or motion sickness. Everyone on the bus laughed (unknowingly) at the question. However, no one seemed to feel it was an issue, and soon we were on our way with “Momma” pointing out the sights as we passed through the city. Within minutes, however, we were leaving the city and starting the climb into the steep hills. “Momma” told us to relax… “Poppa”, our bus driver, was the best around and for us not to worry. Then, (bless her heart) she chattered and sang for the next 2 hours in an effort to both educate and distract us.

It didn’t take very long for all of us to realize exactly how precarious this drive was. The roads were narrow, winding and filled with potholes. There were no guardrails on the edges of the road and sometimes there wasn’t even room for 2 cars to pass… just a honk of the horn to tell the on-coming driver that it was “our turn.”

I was sitting near the back by a window. My view was either straight up the moutain or straight down. At times we were so close to the jungle that we literally drove through some of the bushes or hit the low hanging branches. (And God protect the pedestrians who were walking along the road, as well.)

People began to quiet down and just watch the road… some were even video-taping this adventure. Me? I fell asleep! When I awoke a while later, it dawned on me that here I was in Jamaica, and I had just stumbled onto another lesson on this journey of life – one that Bruce had demonstrated so many times before.

Bruce was someone who studied different philosophies constantly. I believe that is why he was such a calm, spiritual person. Nothing seemed to phase him. I, on the other hand, have always been a worrier. (Maybe I still am, but that is where this story fits in.) One philosophy that he brought up quite a bit was from the Tao. Whenever, I was worried, he would tell a story about a river. As the river flows along and encounters a rock in its path, it does not try to move the rock. Instead, the river simply flows around it (or over it) and keeps moving.

Jamaicans have the same philosophy in one phrase… “No problem, mon.” They will tell you there are no problems… only situations. There is always some good in the situation or something to be learned from it. Therefore, it is “no problem.”

Riding in the bus today, I realized that my worrying is really a trust issue. According to my faith, I am supposed to trust, but that has never come easy for me. I am a list person – I like a plan… I want to know what is ahead. However, throughout my adult life more often than not, my plans and lists have not become my reality. In fact, every time I think I am getting it all together, God (the universe or whatever you wish to call it) has laughed and changed things entirely.

Before I lost Bruce, I was always able to get back up, brush myself off, and start again – faith still intact. However, when I lost Bruce, I completely lost my trust in God. I felt so abandoned and angry… Trusting God was not happening… I just couldn’t do it.

Several people who have already been down this road have told me this is normal – not to worry – I would figure it out in due time. In the meantime, God’s shoulders were big enough to handle it and still love me.

However, so many other people were appalled and told me that I had to stop feeling the way I did – I had to trust God. There is a problem with that idea though… emotions are not attached to switches and dials. They have to be processed and worked through – not “turned off” or shoved down just because someone says so. That is where I have been.

But back to the bus ride…

While on the bus, I watched those people who were scrutinizing every move our driver made. For all the world, it appeared they would have loved nothing more than to give our driver, Poppa, instructions on how to do this right (aka – their way). But despite all their video tapes, gasps and comments, Poppa kept right on doing things his own way. The result? We arrived at the estate perfectly fine and with quite an adventure to share and remember.

I realized then that this is the way I have been trying to live my life since Bruce died… wanting to trust God, but hanging on and trying to stay in control for dear life – not trusting Him enough to relax and enjoy whatever might come next.

I also realized that I need to live my life more like I was on the bus. There were a few of us in the back, who realized right away that we really had no other option but to trust the driver. So we sat back, watched the scenery and actually saw the beauty of Jamaica and rested – safe in the knowledge that Poppa knew what he was doing much better than we ever could. In other words, I need trust the God that I say I believe in. I need to realize that even when the road is scary, he can handle it. He knows much better than I do, and I can rest – secure in the knowledge that he is in charge… so I don’t need to be.

As I write this, we are leaving Montego Bay, a place Bruce wanted to share with me. I think he still did… and I think that maybe I finally understand what he was trying to help me learn all those years…

If you want to live the life you are meant to live, then there really is no other option except to trust…

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

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

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

* Be advised that all comments are subject to approval prior to posting. Any comments determined to be spam or not in accordance with the mission of this website/blog will not be approved or posted. Furthermore, any comments determined to be hostile in nature will be reported to the proper authorities. Thank you.