Tag: lessons learned

Peace, Love, and Grief… Changes in Grief and Mourning

Grief and mourning… Years ago, I would have told you these two words were synonymous, but I would have been wrong. After spending time on my own grief journey, I would now say that grief is the emotion and mourning is how that grief is expressed.

I still grieve for Bruce, but I can’t say I still actively mourn his death. Sure, there are still tears at times, (when I am alone), and this blog is definitely a way of expressing my grief. However, I’m not actively mourning 24/7. Most people I meet have no idea I am a widow or who Bruce is. (That usually comes up later, IF we become friends.)

In the beginning, I did all the things… For example, I wore black for the first 6 months. (That is until I realized the color was no longer an expression of my feelings but instead was affecting my feelings.) I cried… a lot. (In fact, I wore sunglasses indoors as much as out because I didn’t want people to see my constant tears.) I even skipped the holidays that first year, because I couldn’t bear the thought of celebrating anything without Bruce here to celebrate too.

While I thought my life had ended when Bruce’s did, what I soon learned was that loss was not the end of the story. Instead, it was simply the start of another one. For me, loss became that thing that divided my life in half – everything before the loss vs everything that came after. There was the “before” me that was too naïve to realize how much this loss would take from me vs the “after” me that now lives completely aware of how painful tragedy can be and how precious every moment truly is with those we love.

I guess what I am saying is that the loss of Bruce changed me… the grief… the mourning… all of that quickly became a part of who I am. In the beginning, those changes brought me down… My mourning was deep, and it was physical. There was no way to spend any amount of time with me and not know I was grieving.

I was so angry and emotional all the time. There seemed to be triggers all around me that could set me off on a crying jaunt at any moment… Everything seemed to make me cry, and the pain felt never-ending.

“It <was> so dang unfair. Even worse, it <was> so dang unchangeable… But the griever knows they can’t go back in time. So, healing feels impossible, because circumstances feel unchangeable.” ~ Lysa Terkeurst, Forgiving What You Can’t Forget

I stayed in that mode for a long time. It seemed to seep into every part of my world, and the craziest part is that I had no idea how to change that or if I even wanted to change that. It almost felt like a betrayal to Bruce to feel any other way.

But thankfully, life didn’t give up on me, (and neither did the people who love me).

Years have passed, and I still grieve the loss of my husband. However, I can also say that I am slowly working to express that grief… to mourn, if you will, in a more productive way. I am trying to take the lessons learned by his loss, and use them to make my life going forward, a better one.

For example, one of the greatest lessons I learned when I lost Bruce is just exactly how precious life is. Our time with our loved ones is measured. It will not last forever. At first, this reality found me pulling back. After all, if I wasn’t too close to anyone, it wouldn’t hurt nearly so bad when they were gone. But that was not sustainable – not for me, anyway. I love who I love… I want to love who I love. In fact, I want to soak in as much love as I possibly can… while I can.

That reality led me to start one-on-one trips with each of my kids this year. Yes, they are adults. Yes, they have lives and families of their own. Yet… they will always be my kids, and I know our time together will not always be. This newest tradition allows me to get to know them better, especially now that they are adults. It allows us to reconnect without the responsibilities of family and home. We have been able to simply have fun and laugh, as well as, have late night heart-to-heart conversations – tears and all. (This has been life changing for me, and I wish I had started doing this sooner!)

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I know I am still grieving. My hope, though, is that my mourning… my expression of that grief is becoming something more positive… I want to think that now it is something that just might put a little bit more love back into this world, despite my initial grief making me feel like all of the love was gone. I hope that now it is something that involves more smiles than tears… Something that builds up and brings hope… Something that Bruce would even be proud of, too….
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This journey isn’t easy… not that you need me to tell you that. Loss can be traumatic, and the grief and life we are left to figure out is hard. Thankfully, though, there are moments and actions we can take to refresh our souls – Moments where I learn a little bit more about faith, life, and love.

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

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

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… Things Aren’t Always as They Appear

“… We miss a lot when we’re not paying attention. That things aren’t always as they appear to be.” ~ Karen White, The Sound of Glass

Of all the things I have learned since losing Bruce, “being in the moment”… paying attention to what is happening right now has got to be the biggest one. Realizing just how short life can be… just how precious is our time together hit me almost immediately.

For me, losing Bruce so suddenly and with no forewarning, was like a slap in the face that made me realize just how precious our time together with those we love truly is. We were laughing and joking just hours before… We were snuggled up and peacefully sleeping when his world stopped and mine completely changed.

Ever since that day, I have tried (not always successfully) to be in each moment… To really pay attention to what and who is around me… To not waste time on petty differences that won’t matter a week, month, or year from now… To simply soak in every moment just in case it becomes an unexpected, final, precious memory.

That is the first lesson in “paying attention” … To make an effort to do this so I don’t miss the simple things that may later become the important things. The second lesson, however, took me a little bit longer, and it was when I realized that things aren’t always what they appear…

On the one hand this wasn’t a new idea… For most of my adult life I have known about the masks we all wear, but I can’t say I ever spent much time thinking about the consequences of that… At least, not until a few years after Bruce died.

In the beginning I was pretty honest about how I was feeling – about my grief and how lost I felt. After about a year, though, I began to realize that people were tired of seeing it… of hearing it… of dealing with it. I get it now; it is exhausting to watch and not be able to fix anything. However, at the time, I really struggled with how to find the balance between what I was feeling, while not bringing the rest of the people in my world down with me.

So… I learned to smile and say, “I’m fine.” I learned to make myself think of other things when grief threatened to cause tears at inopportune times. I learned to look comfortable doing things on my own, such as eating out or traveling. I learned to wait until I was alone to cry or express the grief that was threatening to swallow me whole.

… And that is when I realized just how little we (as a collective) actually notice… or at the very least, how little we acknowledge…

Whether people notice when I’m not really fine or whether they ever see the tears brimming as I turn my head, I don’t know. What I do know is that I too am just as guilty of doing the same thing. I try to make a point of doing better these days. Yet, admittedly, there are times when I feel so overwhelmed with my own stuff that I just don’t have anything left in me to give toward someone else’s pain. I know that sounds selfish. I don’t mean to be, and I certainly don’t want to be. At the same time, though, I am being honest… I think sometimes we really don’t notice someone else’s pain and sometimes we choose not to see it.

Either way, I think it is hugely important that we are all aware that rarely are things exactly as they appear to be. Each of us carries some kind of pain – maybe it’s grief… maybe it’s something else, and when we choose to bury our heads in the sand and pretend that we don’t see each other’s pain, we aren’t just hurting them… We are robbing ourselves of the chance to change someone else’s world, even if only for a moment… And the craziest part is that it doesn’t necessarily require a lot… Sometimes it can be as simple as a touch or an empathetic smile… Maybe there are times when it will require a little bit more, but in the long run, if we are keeping that first lesson in mind, (the one where we are paying attention), then maybe we will realize that these are also the important moments that we don’t want to miss either.

I say it every week… Loss is hard, and the grief we are left to figure out is even harder. But this is a journey where I am continuously learning – mostly about myself… what I think about life, faith, and love. These have all been great life lessons. However, I hate that losing Bruce is how I got here. After all, I didn’t ask to be here… I didn’t ask for any of this. As the years pass, I can honestly say that there are more good days than bad as I learn those things that seem to bring me a little bit of healing each day. Through it all, though, I still find myself wishing for a world where Bruce is here beside me. So, I will continue to allow myself the space I need to heal and process this life without him. Thankfully, at this point in my journey, I am learning that I am not alone – thanks to you!

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

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… Dear Bruce

I feel like I’m swimming in the dark.
On a moonless night, my frail arms and legs thrash about in black despair.
I can’t see where I’m going or where I’ve been.
I can’t see the danger lurking beneath the surface,
But I know it’s there.
I am terrified of losing what little independence I have left.
I grope for a glimmer of purpose to keep me afloat,
But I cannot find it.
Floundering. Gasping for air.
In thick water, I can feel but cannot see.
Then I sense your voice speaking to me stirring my soul:
“Look up, child.
Put your feet on the rock bottom.
It is solid ground. Holy ground.
Stand up and live.”
~ Missy Buchanan, Talking with God in Old Age

The anniversary of Bruce’s death was this past week, and as many of you know… I was struggling. First, I want to say, “Thank you!” Thank you to the many friends and family who reached out to me. Your support and love are what not only carried me through the week, but also made a huge difference in my ability to come out feeling okay on the other side.

And since that day was the focus of my week, my letter to Bruce seems to be the best thoughts I can share with you today…

Hey Babe!
Nine years… My that’s hard to believe. Sometimes it feels like it happened yesterday, and on other days it feels like forever. It’s strange, I know, but this year has been especially tough. I still miss you so much it hurts to even breathe at times. Yet… here I am… still here… So, there must be a reason.

It’s funny but I learned a few things today… First of all, even though I feel very much alone in all of this, I’m not. There are a lot of people around me who may not totally “get it”, but as the saying goes, “Compassion does not require understanding.” These are the people who are here for me… They care, and they love me.

I am not alone.

Second, grieving is a long process… and that’s okay. As long as I am moving forward and grounded in my reality, it is okay to take as much time as I need. I don’t need to rush through it or squash down my feelings to make someone else more comfortable. I, also, don’t need to throw it in anyone’s face, but it’s okay to work through this on my terms and in my own way.

Third, I’ve been saying for years that I wish I could just spend a day dealing with things my way – spending the whole day in bed crying if I feel like it. (Something I have never let myself do before, mainly because I am too scared I would never be able to stop and get back up.) Today, however, I stayed in bed most of the morning – crying, talking to you, and just getting a lot of crap off my chest – stuff I’ve been holding in for a long time. Then, I took my time doing only what I wanted, when I wanted… and it felt great!

Fourth, I love spending time at our beach and in our home, because I can feel you in both places. I went for a long walk on an (almost) empty beach. I went to the spot where we had your memorial service and where your ashes were scattered off-shore. I could almost feel you beside me. Yet, when I am here in our space, whether it’s porch sittin’ or in my reading chair, or in our room… I do feel you… I know you are here, and I know you can hear me when I talk to you. I can’t imagine being anywhere else.

And finally…

“Not everything that’s been taken from us was by the hand of God. But when I mentally place each and every loss in His hands, it can be redeemed… Loss is never the end of the story.” ~ Lysa Terkeurst, Forgiving What You Can’t Forget

I’m counting on that, Babe… I love you – Always and Forever!!

Grief is hard. It changes us in ways we could never have prepared for, and in ways no one else might understand. This journey is not an easy path for anyone… and this week for me, it was definitely a little bit harder. I don’t think any of us wants to on this path, but this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Life is now filled with challenges I never imagined. Each time I think I have it figured out; I find I don’t at all, despite the years since Bruce passed. This past week held a huge challenge for me. My goal now, though, is to let myself feel what I feel. At the same time, my other goal is to look at this life before me and find the joy and the hope life holds… And to hold onto that with everything I have.

Thanks to you, 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… Freaky Friday lessons to learn

I used to be one of those people who would panic at everything… I would cry at the drop of a hat and avoid confrontation like the plague. After the abuse in my first marriage, I remember my counselor telling me that was a normal response to the years of walking on eggshells… of never knowing what would be the next thing to set off a tyrade in our home. During that time of recovery, that information was comforting – knowing that I wasn’t crazy. However, I still found myself frustrated with my own behavior. I knew this was not how I wanted to spend the rest of my life.

When Bruce and I got married, his trustworthiness and steadfast character helped a lot. With time, I learned to handle more and more, but it was still baby steps… and if I felt overwhelmed, he was always there – ready to be my hero.

Then, in a flash one night, he was gone… and I was left all alone to handle whatever came along. At first it was really hard… there were times when I was so angry at him for leaving me here to figure it out by myself. Other times – like this last week – I just felt like it was too much… I found myself missing him more than usual and asking him “why?” Why did he leave?”… and “how in the world was I supposed to do this all by myself?”

I believe life has a way of teaching and reteaching us certain lessons. One of those lessons is the idea that God/ Source/ the universe has our back. (Choose whatever term you prefer.) For me, that was made abundantly clear just a couple of days ago as one of my daughters, my grandson and I made our annual trek to the Shark Tooth Capital of the world.

Wanting to get there early, we left our home at 5:30 am and took the toll road around the city to avoid any big-city, rush-hour traffic. About 30 minutes into the trip, the normal, traveling complaints started from the backseat… You know what I’m talking about – the “How much longer?” and “I’m hungry” whining.

Then came the one everyone hates to hear… The one that can create instant panic – “I’m gonna be sick.”

WHOA! I pulled over, he and his mother climbed out and he hung over the guard rail waiting… but there was nothing. (Whew!) After a few minutes, they climbed back in. We handed him a bag (just in case) and started again.

A few minutes later came “I HAVE TO POOP! NOW!!!!”

“Can you wait for the exit?”

“NO! I HAVE TO GO NOW!”

So I pulled over again. They climbed out again… And the required attempt was made… but no luck. After a few minutes, they climbed back in. He picked up the bag and settled in as we started off again.

Then, a few minutes later it happened… he lost it. Thankfully, he managed to get it all into the bag, but… ugh! Just as he was telling us how much better he felt now, we heard another sound… like rocks hitting the car. Moments later, the dreaded low-tire light came on. We had blown a tire… The result of a nail in the road. We were between exits and not close to anything.

I pulled over and called my insurance company for Roadside Assistance. The call went through fine. However, when I was transferred to the R.A. vendor, the line filled with static. I couldn’t hear a thing. I hung up and took a breath. “Where are you, Babe?” I thought. “I could really use your help right now… This is becoming a disaster, and I don’t know if I can do this.”

I tried the call again with the same result. However, this time the woman on the other end called me back, and the line was clear. She was able to confirm our location quickly and stated that once she located an available company, she would call us back.

We all took a breath and settled in for “the wait.” At just that moment, my daughter stated, “They’re here.” Sure enough – help had arrived. However, instead of the help promised by the insurance company, it was an FDOT Road Ranger. What a blessing! Rather than merely removing the blown tire and putting on my spare, he was actually able to repair the tire within just a few minutes.

There are two things I need to tell you here… Two things that signaled we were not alone in this situation. First, while we were waiting, we looked at the horizon and realized we were being entertained with a hot air balloon race. How BEAUTIFUL!

Second, Bruce always said that when he first became a truck driver, they were considered the “Knights of the Road” – ready to help anyone stranded on the side of the road. He had loved upholding that image. However, he was always frustrated that reputation had not only been lost years ago, it had been turned on its head – leaving truckers with a bad image. In my mind, this Road Ranger was our “Knight in Shining Armor” our “Knight of the Road.”

Without a doubt, I know God took care of us and sent help. I, also, know Bruce had his hand in this, too… maybe as a reminder that he is still nearby – still watching out for us.

As we started back on our way again, we laughed and shook our heads. We were not even an hour into our trip, but we were sure that would be it. We could be thankful that everything was fine and just enjoy the rest of our trip.

But that was not “it”… our “Freaky Friday” had just begun…

As the day progressed, we found ourselves dealing with a GPS that either thought our car was also part boat or just went on the fritz for a few minutes – either way, we ended up lost… with a body of water between us and our destination. No worries, though. We were only a few minutes off track, so we turned around – a little later than we planned but no harm, no foul.

Finally, we arrived at our favorite spot. This is our third year making this trip, so we have this down to a science. We have a wagon filled with everything we need for 2 – 3 hours of sharktooth hunting at our spot. “Our spot” is actually hothing more than a hot, open field – a desert, as my grandson calls it. But we do not have this field to ourselves… There is a path through this field that locals say leads to a nude beach.

Through the years, we have seen people walk up and down this path (always clothed). Sometimes, we have talked to them. Sometimes, we just kept on hunting. On this day, as we were hunting, my daughter did one of those whisper-screams, “Naked man!” Then, she jumped up and went to her son to “casually” divet his attention (and his eyes). As for me, (I must admit) I looked up… and giggled. Then, I quickly looked down, pulled the brim of my hat lower and pretended not to notice. BUT SERIOUSLY! Who walks nude through a public area? At what point on the path did he decide “Now is the time to take it all off?” OR did he walk that way from his car? Who does that?

Once he was gone, we all giggled like 5 year olds and went back to what we were doing… each hunting in our own space. Suddenly, my daughter cried out from the other side of the field. As I ran over, she stopped me. “It’s a rattle snake,” she whispered and pointed into a gopher tortoise hole directly in front of her. As she had approached the hole, she heard it, jumped back and spilled the shark’s teeth she had already found. I slowly walked over. Sure enough, the snake was just inside the hole. I helped her gather up her spilled teeth as the snake, slithered deeper into the hole.

That was close! Think what you will, but once again, God had shown us that he was in control.

What a weird day… Surely that was it! But no – the craziness didn’t end there.

As we were sitting on the restaurant patio for dinner, there was a sudden BANG. Everyone on the patio jumped… We may all be on vacation, but recent news events still hover in the backs of everyone’s minds. Then, the waiter (with a look of total relief) yelled, “It’s just a tree!” Sure enough, it was nothing more than a VERY large branch that had fallen next to the patio. We all laughed nervously and looked at each other a bit sheepishly. But in all honestly, I think we all knew that while we were fine, the odds of it being something more serious were real…

What a weird day! What a “Freaky Friday!” In the past, I would have probably cried over most of this… or at the very least, I would have let it affect my attitude for the whole weekend. Yet I couldn’t deny that over and over God had shown us that he was in control.

After a week of wondering if I could do this alone, God was reminding me that I am not alone. I don’t do anything alone. He is always there… He is the one in control.

I have heard many times that we all have lessons that we must learn. If we don’t learn them the first time, life will continue to present that lesson over and over until we’ve mastered it. So, maybe this is my lesson… I’m not alone. I don’t need to worry or panic. God has my back, and he is in control.

What about you? Did you or have you struggled with trying to handle it all after your loss? How did you come to terms with it? Or do you still need support in that area? 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

* 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.