life – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love, and Grief… When You Think You Have It All Figured Out

Life, the Universe, God… Whatever term you use or believe is fine… Whatever it is has a wicked sense of humor at times… Last week, I wrote about the importance of self-care, especially when grieving. I really thought I had learned a valuable lesson… Had figured out another piece of the puzzle – something that counted as a step forward… And then this week happened. (SMH)

Within hours of last week’s posting, I received a call about my son. Without going into too much detail about a story that is his (not mine)… He had fallen, was being admitted into the hospital, and would be needing surgery. As a mother, my world stopped. Even when your kids are adults, you never stop being their mother. You never stop wanting to be able to “kiss it and make it better”.

But life isn’t that way, is it?

So, I spent the next several days with him in the hospital… waiting… waiting for his body to be ready for the procedure, waiting for an available O.R. – just waiting. After several days, he managed to get through all of that, and was finally discharged… And now, (because he needs a little bit of help for a few weeks), he is here. (Poor guy!)

So, what about the self-care? … Well… I am afraid that has been lost somewhere between still working full-time and acting as nurse. However, that is no one’s fault, and it is my own choice… And, honestly, I really don’t mind… My point, though, is that every time I think I have “life” figured out (or even just a piece of it), something happens, and I am reminded that I really have no idea.

It was the same when Bruce died… He and I had a great life. We were in love. We were happy. We were at peace with our little part of the world… We were content. Just hours before he died, we sat at the dinner table talking about our weekend plans… Should we go kayaking or just chill at the beach? We still hadn’t decided when we went to bed laughing, with me snuggled up and laying in his arms with my head resting on his chest – just listening to him breathe.

We thought we had our lives figured out… But life thought differently… Life had different plans…

I have thought about that a lot this week… About how we can never really figure things out completely. Life just isn’t that way… And I don’t think it is supposed to be. Instead, life really is a journey… a great adventure with everything that any great adventure would entail…. And all any of us can really do is whatever is our best in that moment… nothing more… And whatever that is will be okay.

So that is my goal over these next several weeks or so… to just do what I can and accept what I can’t… And even more so – to be grateful for this time and what it will bring.

I say it every week… Loss is hard, and the grief left in its wake is even harder. But this is a journey where I am continuously learning – mostly about myself… what I think about life, faith, and love. I still hate that losing Bruce is how I got here, though. After all, I didn’t ask to be here. As the years pass, I can honestly say that there are more good days than bad as I learn those things that bring a little bit of healing each day. Although, 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.

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Peace, Love, and Grief… Letting Life Be

This weekend as I was sitting at the beach enjoying time with my grandson, I also found myself enjoying the waves, the sun, the dragonflies, the lone pelican bobbing on the waves… and the peace of knowing that somehow Bruce was there too. As I sat there, I also thought about a quote I came across this week in the book I am reading, The Book of Longings by Sue Monk Kidd. The quote was so simple… “Let life be life, and let death be death.”

In the story, the main character had just lost her first child… Emotions I could definitely embrace, as I found myself going back so many years ago to the unexpected loss of little Baby Matthew…

I remember the fear, the sadness, and the pain… but mostly, I remember being told I shouldn’t grieve. I should “be relieved,” I was told, because while I was married at the time of his loss, our child had been conceived outside of wedlock… And the world can be a cruel place for such things.

I wasn’t relieved, though. I was sad… As my breasts filled with milk, my heart and my arms were empty. Yet, at the time, my only choice was to push all of that down deep inside, because there was no safe place to let it out. There was no place to “let life be life, and let death be death.”

Many years later, I found myself, once again, devastated by loss… the loss of Bruce. Honestly, at first, I didn’t know how to grieve him. I just kept trying to shove it down, but I wasn’t very successful. Instead, it showed up as depression and anger. All my life through every loss, I had been told “to rejoice” – “They are in a better place” or “their suffering is over” or (one of the worst) “God needed them more.” NOPE! This time I wasn’t having it. All of those empty phrases (and ones like them) only made me angrier.

However, that anger was met with words that questioned my faith… As if the fact that I felt sadness, anger, and devastation at the loss of Bruce also meant my faith in God must be lacking… Pardon me, but that’s a load of crap!

Even Jesus cried when his friend, Lazarus, died… And yes, I am well aware that there are different theories on why he cried – reasons other than grief. However, all we really know is that he cried… And for me… the idea that he had felt and expressed the overwhelming sadness of grief too… Well, the simplicity of that idea is extremely validating.

For me, it has taken years to work through the devastation of that loss – mainly because I had to give myself permission to grieve first. Then, I had to learn how to grieve, which started by going back and grieving all those past losses… most especially my precious Baby Matthew. Then… finally… I was able to truly face my emotions and grieve Bruce. (So much of that I have shared here on these pages… with you. Thank you!)

It has been a slow and arduous process… Learning how to have an emotion, sort it out – allowing it to just “be.” Then, finding the space for it in my heart before moving on… until the next time. Those times… those waves (sometimes tsunamis) of grief have become less frequent through the years.

I think it is because I have learned to let myself go through what I need to in order to come out healthier on the other side. I also think it has a lot to do with knowing that I had the blessing of being able to spend a part of my life with Bruce at all… To know that I was able to be with him up until his last breath is nothing short of miraculous for me… And as hard as those last moments were, I am thankful that I was there with him… That he wasn’t alone.

However, my last breath hasn’t happened yet… I am still here, and life is still calling me.

So, this week when I read, “Let life be life, and let death be death,” I knew exactly what it meant (for me, at least). … Life is what it is. I have to accept that. I can’t control any of it… And while death is a part of it, when death enters our world, we shouldn’t quit living… For life is such a precious gift… and I know, (for myself), I don’t want to waste it… I want to sit back, savor each moment, and enjoy it!

Thank you for the opportunity to share my story with you today. I know that sometimes this journey can feel so lonely. Yet, there are other times when I know I am not alone at all. We have been here for each other for years, (and I am so grateful). While this journey holds its own challenges and peace-filled moments for each of us, it is our love for those we have lost that brings us together to this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

Peace, Love and Grief – Happy Life day!

“Hey, Babe! Guess what today is! It’s my “Happy Life Day.” Your mom just called me to say, “Happy Life Day.” I love her! … I miss you!” ~ Linda, March 2021

Today I got a call from Bruce’s Mom. She was calling to tell me “Happy Life Day.”

“What is that?” I thought, and just as quickly, she explained that three years ago today, I was given the scary news that I had breast cancer. Yet, here I am, three years later, alive and well and moving on… Happy Life Day!! (She knew what a big deal this has been… She had it marked on her calendar – not me.)

Bruce’s Mom (my mom by default) is such a sweet woman… such a dear friend! I can’t imagine how hard it must be… Her son is gone. He never had the chance to fight for his life. And yet, here I am… I was given the chance to fight. I was given the blessing of life… Happy Life Day!

It’s hard to live with the fact that Bruce wasn’t so lucky… He wasn’t given the chance to fight… I know… “survivor’s guilt” of a sort, I suppose. I know it’s hard for me… I can’t even imagine how his own parents must feel… I’m still here, while he is gone… The whole thing is just plain awful!

Earlier this week, though, I heard a phrase that caught my attention, “In order to leave something significant behind, you have to leave.”

That’s what Bruce did… at least for me. I have learned so much about myself, my faith, my views… all because of him… and the legacy he left in his wake.

There is a (huge) part of me that questions God all the time. “Couldn’t I have learned all this from him while he was still here? Did he really have to go for me to figure all this sh## out?” (Please excuse my language, but God knows I’m a bit rough around the edges and still a little bit angry about the whole “Bruce dying” thing.) Anyway, I don’t know… I don’t have an answer… He’s never given me one.

This path for me started months earlier… Just a few months before Bruce died, I got up in the middle of a church service, tears streaming down my face, because I had suddenly realized my faith wasn’t my own, and because of that, this church was becoming toxic (for me), rather than a blessing. I didn’t know what I needed to do, but I knew I couldn’t stay.

I remember coming home in tears. Bruce never asked a single question… He just held me while I cried. (And I cried so hard, I had two black eyes the next morning.) When I was finally able to vocalize what had happened, he just held me even tighter. I remember he told me that he knew my faith was important to me, I shouldn’t give up, and I needed to give myself the time and grace to figure it all out… And God would give me both.

He was right… It has taken years, and I am still on that path… And it is all because of him that I haven’t given up… I haven’t quit. It is all because of this wonderful man who knew and loved me enough to recognize my need for faith…

He knew me… And he knew I just needed some time…

Something he didn’t have…

Something he never got…

My faith tells me that I have to believe that is because his work here was done. (Although, I would still argue against that point.) However, he did have a huge legacy to leave behind… A legacy of faith and spirituality… A legacy of unconditional love and patience… A legacy I pray I can live up to… because I still love him… And as much as I can’t wait to be with him again… I am thrilled to be celebrating another “Happy Life Day,” and I will continue to fight to be here for as long as I am needed.

This grief journey has been one of the greatest challenges I have ever had. This journey has broken me down to the roots of my soul and has taken me years to feel some semblance of “normal.” I know 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. 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.

To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us 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… At the Mercy of Chance

“Life has a way of reminding you that you are at the mercy of chance.” ~ Kelly Rimmer, The Things We Cannot Say

I have to admit, before Bruce died, I didn’t think about death very much. I hadn’t really encountered it very often, in fact. The few pets we had growing up, (a stray cat my mother fed on the back porch, and a parakeet), aren’t really in my memory – only vague recollections from pictures and stories. I can’t even tell you when the pets came into or left our world… I was too young.

So, for me, I didn’t experience the death of someone (or something) I loved until I was in my late teens. I was 18 when my great-grandmother died and a sophomore in college when I lost my grandfather. A few months later, my first child was born stillborn. Then, my great aunt died in my 30’s and my two grandmothers died when I was in my 40’s. All these were sad events. I cried every time. Family is a big deal to me. I grew up surrounded by family, and all of these people were huge, active parts of my life… And I still miss them so very much.

Now… here is where it gets a little weird… While we “mourned” and buried our loved ones, I can’t say I grieved. I can remember hearing the phrases, “for the best,” “it was their time,” “they are in a better place,” “this is the natural order of things,” and the list goes on… Surely, you know what I mean. In other words, grieving for an extended amount of time just wasn’t done. At least, not in any way that I could see.

After the funeral, no one talked about their feelings anymore. We might share stories that made us laugh, but there was no mention of missing that person or being sad… There was no discussion of grief or how to handle it. It was just assumed that each person, on their own, was okay. It was never spoken, (although it felt understood), that any questioning of why or prolonged signs of grief would be seen as a sign of weak faith… almost blasphemous, in fact.

So, as is common in our culture, I never learned how to grieve… I’m not mad about it – just stating a fact. (And I don’t think I’m alone in this…) We live in a “be tough and move on” culture. Yet, as an extension of that, I never really gave death much thought. Death was something that happens when you get older… to other people… to other people’s lives… not mine… not yet anyway.

Until it did…

Bruce’s death hit me like a ten-ton train head on. In my mind, we were both still relatively young, and in good health. Both our parents were still alive, so our longevity seemed a given. When the events of that night occurred, I struggled to even comprehend what was happening. It seemed so impossible. I felt like I was in a nightmare, but I couldn’t make myself wake up.

All in all, I was totally unprepared for all the changes Bruce’s death brought to my world. I was completely in shock for many months – just going through the motions and watching life pass me by like an observer at a movie. And it has taken me years to feel like I am human again… like I want to be a part of my own life.

Part of what took me so long was I had to actually learn how to grieve. Then, I had to go back and grieve for all those people I had already lost. I know, it sounds strange, but it was some of the best advice I got. I grieved my grandmothers, my grandfather, my great aunt, and most especially, my little baby boy. Then, I was ready to grieve for my husband… for our love and our life together… It took a while, but I grieved for it all.

There have been a lot of changes since those early days after his death. Learning to grieve has been one, but just thinking about and acknowledging death has been another. I have gone from never thinking about death to thinking about death quite often to a realization that no moment is guaranteed other than the one you are currently experiencing. Honestly, this whole process has given me an appreciation for life and those I love as I never felt before. I know how precious each and every moment truly is, and I hope to never again take it for granted.

As part of this “thinking about death,” there are times when I also think about my own death – something I don’t think I ever really contemplated before. For example, I was reading Diana Gabaldon’s book, Drums of Autumn, and one of the main characters tells his wife, “I just want to die in my sleep… beside you.” That line left me feeling bittersweet. Bruce and I were together in bed the night he died. I was right beside him when he took his last breath. Perhaps it sounds strange, but that brings me comfort in an odd kind of way… I mean, I couldn’t save him, but I was with him… It makes me smile to know Bruce didn’t die alone.

Then, I think about my own death… I have no idea what the future will hold, but I’m not scared. There are so many things that go through my head… I know some of it probably sounds morbid, but some of it is realistic, as well. For example, I know I won’t be dying in Bruce’s arms. Hopefully, though, I won’t be alone either. (See, that is the morbid part, I think.) But… There is a thing that makes me smile… When my time comes, (which, for the record, I am betting is a long way off), I know Bruce will be there waiting for me… ready to take my hand and hold me close once again… And that brings me comfort.

For now, I am happy to live my life and experience all the love still here. However, I also look forward to a time when he and I are together again… When I can look into his eyes and hear him say, “I love you” … one more time.

This grief journey is a hard one, and it is different for everyone… The many ways we experience it are as diverse as we are. We all move through it at our own pace and in our own way… We are all different, and just doing the best we can in a world that can feel overwhelming at times. What about you? How have you learned to grieve? Is it better some days than others? Would you like to share your story or ask a question? Do 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

Peace, Love and Grief… Time to Be Grate

“Gratitude isn’t a natural response to adversity;
It’s a discipline you develop.”
~ Unknown

Thanksgiving has always been a “family” holiday in my mind. Our family has always come together to celebrate… For us, the day is centered on great conversations, playful banter, sharing stories, laughter and love. Growing up, my family always spent the day at one of my grandparents’ homes. I loved playing with my cousins and listening to the grown-ups talk into the late hours of the night.

My first husband was military, and we lived too far away from either of our families to celebrate the day with them. So, the day was spent with friends and strangers who would have otherwise spent the day alone. Everyone pitched in and the day was spent sharing what we had… food, stories and friendships.

When Bruce and I were first married, we were living in Michigan, so we usually spent the day with his family… until we moved to Florida, that is. However, even then, we seemed to always have someone in the family with us for Thanksgiving… even if only for a few hours.

But when Bruce died everything changed…

That first Thanksgiving came ten months after Bruce passed away. At that point, I’m not sure if I was just still too numb or if the pain was still too raw… Or a combination of both. I do, however, remember I couldn’t bring myself to celebrate anything. Life had thrown me a curve ball, and I didn’t feel thankful about anything. I was still hurting too much, and the idea of celebrating a “family” holiday, when the person I loved was gone… well… that was more than I could handle.

So instead, I ignored the holiday, and spent the day at a theme park with my youngest daughter and her friend. At this point, memories of that day have faded into a blur. However, I know it created the distraction I needed, while still allowing me to spend time with someone I love.

The next year, I decided it was time to join the rest of the world and celebrate… It was time to try and say “Thank you” again. I was still hurting, but I wanted to spend time with family and loved ones, so I spent a very quiet holiday with one of my daughters and her family. It was a wonderfully, simple holiday – a very good way to ease back into the idea of celebrating without Bruce. A good portion of the day was spent just breathing, and no one pushed me to do more than I felt ready to handle. There were smiles and laughter, and with love and support, I did it… In fact, by the end of the day I knew exactly what I was thankful for – the love of my family.

The third year, I got a little bit braver again… This was the year I traveled to merry old England to spend the holiday with my oldest daughter and her husband. A first it seemed so odd to celebrate Thanksgiving in a country that does not share this holiday.

We had a lovely time shopping for a “bird” and “American” ingredients which were nearly impossible to find. Yet, everyone else seemed eager to pitch in… They were so curious and more than happy to help us find all the “traditional foods” we needed for our feast. The day itself couldn’t have been better! It was beautiful… another quiet celebration filled with love and laughter… and a few tears… But once again, I was reminded of what I have to be grateful for… the people I love.

The next year was different again. My daughter and grandson had moved in with me just a few months earlier, and he was spending Thanksgiving with his father in another state. It felt strange and wrong… There was definite grieving for a family (and a tradition) gone. It was my daughter’s first holiday without her little Bubba, and for reasons I completely understood, we chose to spend the holiday traveling rather than celebrating with the traditional family feast.

The day was quiet, the beach was soothing, and the company was loving… That year, once again, it was a holiday to be “survived” rather than “enjoyed.” I missed Bruce, and we both missed having our little Bubba to make us smile and give us hugs. I’m not sure how, but we made it through… So grateful to be a family again at the end of the weekend.

In the years following, I have not only gotten braver, I am genuinely grateful for the many blessings in my life. Our family has gone back to old traditions with an old fashioned, “everyone’s coming” Thanksgiving. My daughter and I spend days cooking and cleaning in preparation. We make all the traditional foods my children grew up eating. Then, we throw in a few games for laughter and entertainment.

I have to be honest, though, this time of year is still hard… Why? Because this is the time of year where the focus is on family. And while I have a wonderful family, for me there will always be someone missing… Bruce. It breaks my heart all over again every time I think about it. Then add in the part about being grateful, and the struggle gets just a little bit harder.

For years when I read the verse, from 1 Thessalonians, “Be thankful in all circumstances,” I couldn’t understand it. How in the world could I be thankful for this? Why would God ask this from me? I couldn’t understand… And I couldn’t do it.

This year, though, I realized my mistake… It doesn’t say “for all circumstances.” It says “in all circumstances.” In other words, I’m not expected to be thankful for the loss of Bruce. (God understands and joins me in my pain.) What he is asking of me is to be able to find things I am grateful for, even IN my grief… And I have found that I can do that just fine.

So this month I have been making time each day to be grateful… making time to look around at all the things I take for granted and truly see the many blessings all around me…

First and foremost, I am alive. Despite two bouts with cancer in 18 months, I am still here to enjoy all the other blessings I am surrounded by. Because he lives with me, I get to watch my grandson grow up, not to mention the very special bond we have developed over the past few years. Because most of my family lives within a few hours’ drive, I get to spend a good bit of time with them, especially my kids and my sister. Each morning, I am blessed to watch the sunrise, and each evening, to watch it set. I am able to laugh… and run… and enjoy life moment by moment.

If there is one thing I learned when Bruce died, it was how short and unpredictable life is. Through the years since then, I have learned that many of the things I thought were important before, really aren’t. In the past, I wasted time worrying or being upset about things that either never happened, don’t matter now or aren’t even remembered anymore.

All of this craziness that I call “my life” is a gift I couldn’t appreciate a few years ago. This life is a gift I wasn’t sure I would continue to experience a year ago… But it is my gift, and I have learned that life, love, and living each moment in a state of gratitude is what is important… It is about taking the time to be grateful each and every day.

“Gratitude is an attitude you choose,
Not a reaction to your circumstances.”
~ Unknown

What about you? Does any of this strike a chord with you? How do you handle family holidays? Have you always been able to be grateful or have you struggled with being grateful? Maybe you have found a different way to cope… There is no one right answer. Who knows… you may hold the answer for someone else.

NOTE: Due to family time, I will be off schedule next week. I will be taking next week off in order to spend the weekend with my family. Thank you for understanding my need to enjoy my precious time with those I love.

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… A Key West lesson

As I start my blog this week, I am sitting on a ferry bound for Key West… one of my absolute favorite places. As I watch the houses and beaches disappear from sight, I smile as I remember how I ever ended up on this annual trek for our girls’ weekend. A weekend of laughs, tears, hugs and deep, late night conversations. In other words, a wonderful time of sharing, bonding and making memories… a weekend that speaks deep to our souls as women and “soul sistas.”

I smile as I remember the first year I was invited to join this group of women I barely knew… Bruce’s 2 sisters, another girlfriend and myself. The others had known each other for years… I was new to the family, a bit introverted and very new to the experience of an accepting group of in-laws. In other words, I was terrified. My inner “Piglet” kicked in with all the fret and worry that makes Piglet famous, and I decided… I wasn’t going.

Bruce, however, felt I should go. He was never one to tell me what to do normally, but he was pretty insistent about this trip. One night after trying to explain the 100 million reasons why I thought it was a bad idea, I was at the point of tears. At a loss, he finally said, “Would you feel better if I went too?”

I perked right up with that! Yes, that would make me feel better but how in the world was he planning on doing that? This was a girls’ weekend… and he definitely was not a girl.

His solution? Total secrecy… we couldn’t tell anyone. He got a hotel room on the other side of the island. Throughout the weekend, we stayed in constant contact through text. I would tell him where we were, and he would always be within a block. If anything went awry, he promised to be my knight in shining armor and come to my rescue.

The weekend was wonderful! I had a blast. I’ve never been with such a loving group of women. Bruce never had to come to my rescue but by just being close by, he had been my hero… once again. I have been coming back every year since… (but without Bruce).

Now move forward in time… The first year after Bruce’s death, I went but it was hard. I was not interested in meeting or talking to people. I wasn’t even interested in laughing or having fun… all things that make KW what it is. I just wanted to sit and watch the world go by.

I remember a few things about that trip… I remember crying (a lot). I remember the girls taking turns sitting with me as the other 3 would go have fun… never once did they leave me alone nor did they make me feel like I was a bother or that they minded “babysitting” me.

I remember whenever I did talk to someone, I always introduced myself as a widow… Now that, my friend, is a conversation stopper like no other! I remember one of our bartender friends down there finally said, “Just keep breathing. One of these days, you will remember who you are as a person… The day will come when you won’t feel the need to always introduce yourself as a widow.”

At the time, I thought he was crazy… what did he know? But as time has passed, I have realized he was right. Now, I introduce myself as “Linda” (period). Yes, I am a widow, but that does not need to be the focus (or start of) every conversation… not now… not anymore.

As I am anticipating the trip this year, I find myself getting a little anxious. I am an introvert… that is my character. I’m not shy… I am friendly and can hold my own in a conversation. But I am not one to seek out that conversation. I am perfectly content to “people watch” and listen.

But my own inner dialogue went to work on making that simple characteristic a negative one… insisting that my public demeanor makes me a wallflower… the invisible friend. The one people are polite to… but only if they notice me. I was convincing myself that I am just a part of the scenary in the eyes of the world… a nobody.

Do you hear me? Do you hear what I was telling myself? I was doing what a lot of people do. I was listening to that voice in my head tell me that I am not good enough as just I am. The same voice Bruce always told me was wrong…. to ignore it. I don’t need to hustle, scramble or change in order to prove my value or worthiness as a person. I am perfectly fine just as I am. The people who add value to my life, will love me and accept me as I am. They do not try to “fix” me…

My soul sistas are a perfect example of that… That is why I love meeting them in KW every year.

As a widow, however, it becomes hard when that voice starts chattering. It can be loud and quite insistent, and there is no one to tell you any different. That is where I found myself when Bruce died and the volume on that voice increased greatly.

My grief journey, this widowhood, has re-created a loss of self-esteem and self-confidence that I haven’t felt in years. I’m not sure why; it just has. There is something self-defeating in the constant loneliness when the other half of your soul is gone… There is no longer that loving person to lean on or turn to when the days are rough or the nights are dark and long.

And without that person in your life anymore, you must find your strength within you.

As I was writing in my journal this morning, I realized that is where I am… searching for that strength within me – not searching for it from outside myself. I know that was one of the reasons Bruce always wanted me to take this trip. He wanted me to realize that I could just be me (completely me) and still have fun, especially when I am with people who accept me. But even more important, this is true when I can trust and accept myself.

This isn’t easy, nor does it come naturally… not for me. But I can assure you it is true.

This evening, as I return to write the last part of the story, I am back on the ferry and on my way home. This year’s trip is over and I have learned so much. I know without a doubt, we all have something within us that can create feelings of inadequacy… But our job is to not give that voice any power.

At one point this weekend, the four of us talked about that voice and the damage we can allow it to do. We talked about the fact that in order to be a whole person, we have to be look for that love and acceptance within ourselves, because we will never discover our own strength within someone else. We have to love and accept ourselves in order to offer our own unique gifts to the world.

I miss Bruce. I miss his love and I miss his companionship. I even miss his support and the security he offered. But in my core, I know my value didn’t (and still doesn’t) come from him… it comes from within myself. He taught me that a long time ago…

When Bruce died and my world turned upside down, I forgot it for a while. But as time passes, I am learning to love and trust myself again. I am learning that God made me as I am for a reason… I owe no apologies for that, nor should I try to be someone else. I just need to breathe, be comfortable with myself and be true to myself… without any self-doubt.

THEN, I can go out in the world and have FUN living the life I am meant to live.

Because this is OUR community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. Tell us what lessons or epiphanies you have had. 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… 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

Peace, Love and Grief… Where are the dreams now?

Reality
I know that you’re not coming back.
I know that even though I wish it weren’t true,
you are gone.
I know…
But it is a bitter pill to swallow.
~ Linda, March 20, 2015

This week’s blog is an extension of last week’s… but then again, that only makes sense since that is the way of time.

Last week I talked about Bruce’s birthday and the dream we had of retiring when he turned 55… This would have been that year. It was supposed to be our time… our dream. But life doesn’t always happen the way you plan it.

I had to go back to work on Tuesday, just like any other day. I woke up, I wrote in my journal, I did my meditation and I worked out. Then I got dressed and drove to work just like any other day… But it wasn’t any other day. It was the day that marked the end of a dream. I walked through the doors at work, greeted the security guard, unlocked my office door and sat down to my computer. However, everything in me was screaming, “NO!!” This wasn’t how it was supposed to be… I wasn’t supposed to be there. This was not what we had planned.

When we met, Bruce and I shared a dream. (I believe it was a part of our initial attraction.) We both wanted to retire on a boat and sail the Caribbean. I used to laugh and tell him that he could be my “cabin boy.” He would laugh right back and tell me that he couldn’t think of a better way to spend his days. I loved that! He didn’t care if I was the “Captain” – he just wanted to be together. Who wouldn’t fall in love with that?!

We spent many weekends looking at yachts – deciding what we wanted and what we didn’t. He used to laugh that we would need an entire separate boat just for my shoes… He was probably right! : )

He was such a thinker… always coming up with ideas for growing a garden on board, a “boat” solar-powered treadmill for me to have a place to run and any other way to make it uniquely “ours.” He spent hours studying ports and pirates, customs and currents. In other words, he got serious about how to actually make our dream come to life. Our dream was real for both of us, and I didn’t doubt that we would really do it one day.

When we bought our current home, I did worry just a little bit. In fact, I questioned Bruce if our dream was just that… a dream. After all, now we had a house and all the responsibilities that go with it. He just smiled and told me that dreams always have a way of coming true… after all – we had found each other.

Then one night… in a breath… in one moment of time, he was gone, I was alone, and our dream was no longer.

I knew it. Over time, I thought I had accepted it. I certainly understood it. I have done the figures and calculations… I know how much longer I need to work before I can retire. (That time-line changes when there is only one person to contribute to the budget.) Logically, I got it… I was aware of the reality of my situation. My world was real and our dreams were gone.

But how does one live – I mean REALLY live – without a dream? Is that living? That is where I found myself on Tuesday. Walking through the motions of my life and realizing that without a dream, what was the purpose? What was the point?

Bruce is gone. He isn’t coming back no matter how much I wish for it. Our dreams are gone too… but my life isn’t over. I don’t want to spend the rest of my days just going through the motions. I want a life with purpose. So while I have spent the remainder of this week mourning the loss of Bruce AND our dreams, I have also come to realize that I must look deep inside myself and find a new dream… a new purpose.

This week has been hard. I have smiled in public and pretended that all was well. However, on the inside, I have been lost… totally and completely lost. I hear this is normal… all couples share dreams and when one is gone, the dreams are gone. It is up to each of us to determine how to keep going.

I’m not sure exactly what my next dream will be but I have the glimmer of an idea that makes me smile. That alone leads me to believe I am on the right path. Life has a way of opening and closing doors, so for now, I will follow my heart, go where life leads me… and pray for the courage to keep moving forward.

I share my thoughts this week praying that if someone else is feeling the same way, they will realize that it is never too late to dream… And dreams are what give our lives purpose.

The Promise
A bird hops through the grass.
A grapevine gently bounces in the breeze.
The raindrops left on the grass from last night’s rain
sparkle in the morning sun.
The ants are already busy scrambling to and fro.
It is a new day;
Full of promise.
Let me open my heart and see the beauty that surrounds me.
Let me accept the promise of today
and hold it to my heart
so I can live each moment as it comes.
~ Linda, September 29, 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… Celebrating his life…

Blessed

Sometimes I don’t know how to do this.
Sometimes I can’t even breathe.
Then something happens
And I am reminded of how blessed I have been
To have known you at all…
To hold you in my arms,
Even if only for a little while…
That love will carry me through.

~ Linda, February 10, 2015

Aaaand… here I go again. Bruce’s birthday is Monday, April 13 so I have found myself facing another weekend with great significance. Sometimes I feel like there isn’t even time to breathe before the next thing comes along. However, while I find myself tearing up as I reminisce about past birthday weekends, I know that what I want to do is to celebrate his life… a life that changed mine for the better.

With rare exception, we always took the week of Bruce’s birthday off and headed to his folks’ house to celebrate. We would have so much fun just enjoying each other’s company – spending time on the beach, fishing with his dad, playing card games late into the night, “camping out” in the guest house and making all those precious memories that I wouldn’t trade for the world. It was his week and his mom always treated him like a prince – cooking all his favorite foods, including his favorite cake (Texas Sheet Cake). He would just grin from ear to ear the whole time we were there… In fact, saying good-bye was the only negative part of the whole week.

I remember the first year that I joined him there. Bruce and I had only been dating for a few months. Up to that point, I had only met his sisters (who are wonderful), but not his parents. He was so excited to have me come along, but I was TERRIFIED. I was a 40-something year old divorcee with 4 children who lived 1000 miles away from their son… not exactly a parent’s dream mate for their only son. But Bruce kept insisting I was wrong. “They will love you,” he smiled. “They already love you because I love you and I am happier than I have ever been.” I guess he was right because I felt welcomed and loved from the moment I walked through their door. In fact, that love and acceptance has not changed at all across the years… His family became my family and still is. : )

On his birthday weekend in 2011, we signed the final papers and moved into this home. Since we couldn’t go there, his folks came here and helped us move in. It was a ton of work but we had a great time just being together… and Bruce still got to pick every place we ate. : ) Bruce and I were so excited to be here. We had picked this place specifically to fulfill our dream of spending our retirement years enjoying the Florida coast.

We planned to retire when Bruce turned 55 and just spend the rest of our days playing together. We were so excited… We had so many adventures planned… so many places to go… so many things to do. That dream retirement would have started this year on his birthday (tomorrow). That was our plan… that was our dream. But for whatever reason, that dream was taken away without warning one January night…

With our dreams gone, life got real. So in the interest of a blog that is honest about grief, I will too.

That first birthday without Bruce, we held his memorial and scattered his ashes at sunrise. Afterward, we came back home to a brunch of all his favorite foods. In the evening, we went to one of his favorite fishing spots, toasted him with a beer, and let his grandson place a “boat of flowers” into the water to “take a note to Papa in heaven.” Then to end the day, we had dinner at his favorite seafood restaurant in town. It was one of the hardest days ever… but all in all, it felt like the right way to honor him and his life.

The next year (last year), I was alone for his birthday. At the end of the day, I dressed up (just as I would for him) and went out to dinner at that same seafood restaurant to celebrate. Then afterward, I came back home and had a (Jimmy Buffet) Parrot Head party in his honor. In my mind, I danced with him for hours… It was a hard, tear-filled, wonderful night.

This year I would love to say that enough time has passed, so I am spending the weekend remembering the good times and being thankful, happy and content with those… But that would be a lie.

I am happy for the time Bruce and I had together. I love remembering all the good times and precious moments. But I would give absolutely anything to have him back… to have our dreams back… to have my best friend back… to have our life back. I try not to cry, but the tears come anyway – I am just so sad that he is gone and I am here celebrating his birthday alone. (Even as I write this, I am having trouble seeing the screen through the tears.)

This year my plan has been to go to all of his favorite eating spots over the next few days. (I’ve already been to three of them – Friday, Saturday and tonight.) I even bought a little cupcake (okay – it’s actually HUGE) and a bottle of “Birthday” wine to celebrate tomorrow. I also plan to have another Parrot Head dance party just because it feels right.

I guess deep inside, I want him to know he isn’t forgotten. I love him… I will ALWAYS love him. And as long as I have breath in my body, I will celebrate the day the world was blessed by his life.

This week I have only shared my thoughts, feelings and experiences – there is no great wisdom… only the truth. 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