my hero – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love, and Grief… Love and Trust

Love is love is love…

I started writing this blog in January 20015. Bruce had been gone for two years, and I was still drowning in grief. However, because it had been two years, many people were subtly hinting that I should be over it… I should have moved on already. Grief, though, moves at its own pace. It doesn’t have an “off” switch. It requires time, but the amount of time varies. There are a lot of factors that are in play, mostly personal factors, which means the grief we experience is different for each person… even if you are grieving the same person.

So, on New Years Day 2015, I had an old acquaintance suggest that perhaps writing this blog would give me an outlet for my grief… So, here I am many years later, and this space really has become my safe place to express my feelings and share my journey.

It’s funny… There have been many times, I have thought about the fact that when I write about Bruce, he sounds perfect… like a saint… I even call him my hero. Honestly, the longer he is gone, the more perfect he becomes in my heart. Yet, to keep things honest, he was human. We had our disagreements. We even had an argument (or two). Yet even those not-so-great experiences were vastly different than any I had previously known.

First, in all our years together, I only saw Bruce lose his temper once, and it wasn’t directed at me. Someone he loved dearly had hurt him deeply. When he tried to talk about it, he couldn’t. Instead, I watched as the turmoil inside him bubbled over – he turned away from me, yanked the smoke detector out of the wall, slammed it on the counter, and stormed off to bed.

None of it was directed at me. I wasn’t hurt – simply startled… but of course, my own past experiences from my first marriage flooded my mind. In fact, it was the unhealed emotions created in both our pasts that created that moment.

Yet, there was something different that helped us work through it and come out stronger on the other side. What was that? Trust… We didn’t just love each other; we trusted each other – implicitly. That, I believe, is what made the difference. Neither of us ever expected the other to be perfect, (although, my memory tends to remember him that way). We simply needed honesty and accountability. We just needed the other person to be a loving, safe space to land when we felt lost.

Sometimes I wonder if my tendency to make him sound perfect is because of how things were between us when he died… For example, when he and I discussed our first marriages, we talked about the things that contributed to the end of those relationships – the hurt and the distrust. I think we remember the negative parts of those relationships the strongest because that was the state of those relationships when they ended.

However, when Bruce died, our relationship was good – filled with love, compassion, and trust… lots of trust…

Not once, in all the years we were together, did either of us ever push outside the boundaries of a disagreement. We might have taken breaks in the discussion to keep the conversation rational and focused on a peaceful outcome, but we always managed to come back together to discuss the topic at hand – listening closely to what the other one was saying… and not saying. We didn’t dredge up past mistakes or arguments, and neither of us ever got physical, or made any type of threat to leave the relationship. Both of us were all in, and willing to work at making things right for us and between us.

That was new for me. I think that is why it sticks out in my mind so clearly. I have been in so many relationships where manipulation and/or threats to leave are common versus truly working to come to a healthy space. Speaking from experience, those threats and manipulations do nothing but create distrust… They create a relationship that is not honest, but instead is out of balance and unhealthy for all involved.

I think that is why I talk about Bruce’s legacy of unconditional love. He exemplified everything I had always wanted to believe about love. He showed me that you can love someone and still be your own person. You don’t need to give up pieces of yourself in order for the other person to love you. Real love between two people creates a safe space for laughter and for disagreements, because it is a space filled with trust.

That is what I think I miss the most… that loving space with another person where we are both safe to be ourselves… in good times and in bad… And creating that space for us is why Bruce will always be my “perfect” hero.
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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. This year, my goal is to simply ‘be’… Be me, be kind, be compassionate, be loving, be hopeful… to just ‘be’ and to be comfortable with that… however it looks.

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

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Peace, Love, and Grief… Being Who I Am Meant to Be

Know what I miss? … I miss Bruce! (Big surprise, I’m sure.) I miss this man… This wonderful man who encouraged me to have a voice… Who encouraged me to be the person I was meant to be.

This week, I watched a docuseries on TV about a recent, popular, fundamentalist movement. This movement, as it turns out, has been quite entrenched in the religion of my childhood for a very long time. While my experience was not as extreme as the experiences of the people in the series, I still realized (quite quickly) just how much that experience has affected my entire life – from the message of “male authority” to the message of “never good enough” (and all the messages in between).

I have spent years running from all of that…

But Bruce… Dear, sweet Bruce was my hero! (My “Jesus with the skin on” as my mother liked to say.) He always thought I was enough. He, also, never believed in “male authority”. He simply wanted to love me… and for me to love him… and for both of us to be happy living as the people we were meant to be.

“Someone’s inability to see our value does not detract from our worth.” ~ Sheri McGegor, M.A., Done With the Crying

What a concept! It was something I had never experienced before Bruce. And the best part… It was completely unconditional, and it was real! Every time I think about it, my heart nearly bursts. This is how life and love are supposed to be. Yet so many of us never get here.

The problem was when Bruce died, I was lost… I didn’t know how to find any of that for myself… or by myself. That struggle has been such a huge part of my journey these past ten years.

So, while watching this series this week, for the first time ever, I realized why I have struggle so… These messages have been instilled in me since early childhood… They are deep in my bones… And I cried… a lot.

I cried for what was. I cried for what wasn’t. I cried for how this affected me as a parent. I cried for how this affected me as a wife. I cried for how this affected me as a woman. I cried out of sadness. I cried out of grief. I cried out of anger… I cried until there were no more emotions and no more tears.

Then… I remembered this hero… This man who loved me simply as me. This man who encouraged me to simply be me – the good, the bad, whatever… He loved all of me.

So tonight, as I am crying (with realization) and writing (to get all this out), I am also finding solace in the most amazing love I ever knew.

It brings to mind a conversation I had with Bruce’s Mom a couple of weeks ago… She was telling me (for the millionth time) that they, (Bruce’s family), will still love me if I were to meet someone else. They just want me to be happy. To which I replied, “Mom, I’ve had the worst of the worst, and the best of the best. (Bruce, obviously, was the best.) And I’m not willing to (or don’t want to) settle for anything in the middle.” She just smiled, patted my hand, and gave me a hug… (And I am sure, down the road, she will tell me again… because their love, too, is unconditional.)

I know – never say never, but I meant it… Bruce was amazing. He was my hero… and my kids’ hero… My love for him will last forever… And his love for me will get me there.
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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. Learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. This year, my goal is to simply ‘be’… Be me, be kind, be compassionate, be loving, be hopeful… to just ‘be’ and to be comfortable with that… however it looks.

Peace, Love and Grief… Where It All Started

In each breeze,
let me feel your touch.
In each sunrise,
Let me experience your joy.
In each storm,
Let me feel your strength.
In the quiet,
Let me hear your voice telling me…
All is well…
Each moment was planned.
Each smile was for me.
And your acceptance of life as it is
was your gift to help me through this storm.
I loved you
And even now, you love me.
~ Linda, September 2013

When I started this blog years ago, I had a dual purpose. One was to create a virtual community of support for anyone suffering loss. The other was to help those around us understand how best to offer support. Those first few weeks (and months) there were only a few of us here… Now, there are many of us here… Members of a club we would rather not belong to.

Many of you have shared your stories with me privately and a few publicly… It has been over two years since I shared my own story… My own start on this journey which has changed my life… This is where it all started…

Today’s story is about Bruce’s death and cremation, and the questions that followed it – mine and others. I don’t belittle the hurt others felt or the idea that someone else may have made different choices. (Of course, they would.) But this is my story…

My hope is that by being honest, we can move away from the idea that grief is something we need to “do right” and replace it with the realization that it is a process. A process that requires the griever to live and bargain with each moment as it comes… none of it is easy or rational. It is a moment by moment journey and we do the best we can in each moment…

It was Friday night, January 11, 2013. I worked late but still managed to beat Bruce home. I arrived at 6:30 PM with Chinese food to share for dinner. (It took several years before I could eat Chinese food, again. Even now, it is not on my list of go-to dinner choices.) Bruce got home around 8… He had worked another long, 15-hour day and was exhausted.

I remember being so excited to see him… I ran to the door to greet him and take his cooler. He said he was too tired to eat much so he just had a little soup. I sat with him while he ate, and we talked about our plans for the weekend – kayaking or the beach? We laughed because we both knew it didn’t really matter – just being together and near the water would be wonderful.

When we went to bed, I was fretting about something… I was the worrier, and Bruce was always so chill. We used to joke that he was Pooh Bear (with a beer not a honey pot), and I was Piglet (the tiny worrier). I remember hearing him chuckle as he kissed my forehead, pulled me close and we snuggled into bed.

A few short hours later, I woke up. I was still in his arms, but he sounded like he was having a nightmare. I tried to wake him. I called his name and shook him over and over. Suddenly, he seized up, and collapsed. I was terrified. I called 911 and started CPR. Although the 911 operator was talking to me the whole time, my mind seemed frozen… It all felt like a dream… This couldn’t be really happening… It couldn’t!

Within moments, EMS was here and took over. They tried everything – a breathing bag, an Epi-pen and the “paddles”… but the line on the monitor stayed flat. I watched silently from the bedroom door, but inside my head I was screaming for him to come back… but I knew. No one said a word… but we all knew. The responders kept doing CPR, but there were no more “tricks” in their bag, and there was no longer any sense of urgency. Instead, they waited (actually waited) until a police officer came to drive me to the hospital. Then, with no sirens and no one beside me, we made our way to the ER. It was so surreal…

It was my worst nightmare, and I couldn’t wake up…

Once at the hospital, they put me in a “consultation room” where I sat… alone. The next few minutes were the longest of my life, as I sat there… waiting… Finally, the door opened and a doctor came in to tell me what I already knew. I remember just sitting there… I’m pretty sure I was crying (because I remember having a tissue in my hand), but there was not anyone to hold me and tell me it would be okay… not anymore…

My hero was gone…

I was led to a room where Bruce lay on a gurney… so still… Too still. All the machines and equipment had been turned off, but the remnants of their efforts were still all around us. I was allowed to stay with him until the Medical Examiner came. I remember stroking his face, his hair and his whiskers. I remember kissing his cheek and begging him to open his eyes. I remember thinking this whole thing was impossible! This could not be real… Surely, he was going to open his eyes at any moment and say, “Gotcha!”

But he didn’t… This was all too real…

I remember telling him how much I love him… and I remember crying. There was no one… I was completely alone, and I knew deep inside that was how it would be from now on. When the Medical Examiner’s office came and took him away, the police officer drove me back home.

I was so numb and confused. It just didn’t seem real… How could this be? How could This wonderful man be gone? This man who loved me with no conditions… just complete and total love. How could a loving God take that away? How could Bruce really be gone? It seemed so wrong… so impossible.

I remember I started calling people. It was 3 AM, but I didn’t know what else to do. I remember calling his parents, my parents, our siblings and our children. I even remember calling his boss and a couple of close friends. Then, I spent the next few hours cleaning the house and preparing for everyone to arrive.

The next few days are a blur. I can remember some things but not a lot. I was in such complete shock. The main thing I remember was how I had to concentrate just to breathe… Life just seemed to stop for me, and I wanted to the world to stop too… I wanted to get off… This was too much!

Within a couple of weeks, everyone had gone back home. As for me, I hadn’t come to terms with any of it yet. It felt like I wasn’t even breathing again… but they had lives and homes and families to get back to… they couldn’t stay forever… I would have to figure this out on my own.

I remember thinking I had to be strong and brave so Bruce would be proud. I wanted to do this widow thing “right.” I had to do what I remembered he had wanted. During those last few months, there had been a few conversations about death and what we wanted. There wasn’t a lot he was picky about, but I remember he always said that he did not want a viewing or a big funeral. (He hated being the center of attention.) He wanted to be cremated and to have his ashes scattered in the ocean. He was quite adamant that he did not want to end up on a shelf somewhere. So that was my plan. I had no idea what I was doing and there was no one to guide me… but I was going to give it my all.

Two weeks later the funeral home called, and I went to pick up his ashes. I’m not sure what I expected, but here is what happened… First, they tried to give me the wrong ashes. Then, they put them in a plastic bag – like the kind you get at the grocery store. I was so appalled. Were they kidding me?! This was a man… He was my husband… He was my soul. I remember crying all the way home. Once here, I lit a candle in front of the container and simply sat vigil for the next 24 hours. How could such a wonderful man be inside such a small container? It was too much to comprehend.

The next day, I started making plans… I couldn’t sit here forever. I wanted to follow his wishes, but I also wanted to honor him. The memorial was held a few months later – on his birthday at sunrise. As much as I wanted to, I did not keep any ashes, nor did I give any away. I wasn’t trying to be cruel or unkind to anyone. I was merely trying to do what Bruce had wanted. He was my world; my allegiance was to him, and I needed to do this right. Thankfully, his family was understanding and supported me completely in following Bruce’s wishes.

On the day of the memorial, it was supposed to rain… but it didn’t. It was beautiful. At sunrise, my son took Bruce’s ashes out in the kayak past the breakers and scattered them. The memorial and brunch were perfectly “Bruce,” and I know he was smiling. Saying goodbye was one of the hardest things I have ever done. It hurt so bad… In fact, it still hurts…

However, I am so proud of this man and what he added to this world and my life… The legacy he left behind is one of unconditional love and acceptance. He was truly amazing…

And he was my hero… Always and forever…

Learning to navigate through this journey is different for everyone… The beginning of this journey is the hardest. There are no instructions and most of us have no idea what to do. We all move through this journey at our own pace and in our own way… and we each have our own experiences that help us make it through. If this feels familiar, we are here… you are not alone. If you are someone who needs a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. *

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Thoughts on Father’s Day

I thought we had forever…
I never knew we were counting down
From the day we met.
~ Linda, September

As I write this week, Father’s Day is on the horizon, and all I can think about is what a wonderful father Bruce was… not just to his own daughter, but to my kids, as well. The best part was he never set out trying to be my kids’ “dad.” From his perspective, the whole stepfather-is-dad thing didn’t usually work out well. However, life has a funny way of making things happen when we least expect it…

From my kids’ perspective, their biological father had created such turmoil throughout their childhood that trust was in short supply. However, it didn’t take long before Bruce’s gentle spirit and unconditional acceptance of who they were captured their hearts and helped heal so many hurts.

One of my favorite moments was our first Father’s Day together… The day when Bruce knew without a doubt this new family belonged to both of us… It was our family, and he was smack dab in the middle of it.

We had known each other for about one and a half years and had been married for only seven months. While my other kids were developing their own (positive) relationships with Bruce, my youngest had been giving him quite a run for his money since we had married. (In her defense, she was the only child who had to move 1000 miles with me to Michigan and was understandably angry.) In fact, by this point, we were both resigned to the idea that this “family” thing might take a while… A loooong while…

But as fate would have it, when Bruce and I returned home from church that morning, there was my youngest with a tray of homemade cookies and a card on top for “Dad.” As she handed the tray to him, she sheepishly asked him if it was okay… Would he mind being her Dad? Instantly, he pulled her into a great, big bear hug. For the longest time, they simply held each other and wiped the tears out of their eyes.

For me, my love for Bruce grew even more (as if that was possible) in that moment. After all, how can a woman not love a man who loves her children like his own. But, how did he manage to do that? How did he make such a significant difference in such a brief time?

I think I summed it up best one Father’s Day when I wrote:

To my Bruce: Happy Father’s Day, Babe. Thank you for being a true dad to my kids. Thank you for stepping into their lives and showing them what a healthy man and a healthy marriage looks like. Thank you for loving us all unconditionally – no judgement, no preconceived expectations – nothing but love. In the short time we have had together, you have taught us so much. You have brought healing where we did not think it was possible, and you have changed our lives forever. I have told you every day, and I will say it again, “You are my hero, and I love you forever!”

Besides the fact that all of this has been on my mind this week, why would I bother sharing it here? I’ll tell you why… Because if your father (or the person who fills that role) is still alive, please don’t hesitate to tell them what they mean to you. You may think they know… but maybe they don’t… or maybe they just need to hear it one more time.

After all, we live in a world of incredible beauty and promise. Each day and each person here is a gift… enjoy it!

The trouble is, you think you have time. ~ Buddha

Learning to navigate through this journey is different for everyone… We all move through it at our own pace and in our own way… and we each have our memories that bring tears and the memories that make us smile… each one precious in its own way. What are some of your favorite memories? If so, would you be willing to share your story? What better way to remember and honor those we love than by sharing their stories. If you aren’t ready to share your stories or you are someone who needs a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. *

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Still Trying to Figure It Out

I can’t believe you are no longer here…
… No longer looking at the same blue sky.
… No longer smelling the fresh air of morning.
… No longer feeling the sand under your feet.
… No longer looking at the same moon
or smelling the salt air
or hearing the whisper of the wind.
… No longer able to share experiences.
No longer a part of this world…
No longer a part of MY world…
I wonder if this will ever feel normal…
~ Linda, April 2017

I have spent so much time this week wondering if I will ever get used to this whole grief/loss/widow thing… It’s weird…

I will have days, even weeks, where I feel like I am doing okay – good, even. Then something happens – something I would have been excited to share with Bruce. It can be something big, like a bonus or promotion at work, or it can be something as simple as a quiet moment on the porch watching the sun set.

In the first few seconds, I find myself thinking, “Oh my gosh, Babe, you’re not going to believe this…” Then, just as quickly, I remember where my life is and where he is… or isn’t. He isn’t here… and I want to cry all over again.

This week, though, I found myself wondering how long will this go on? Will I ever get used to this? Will life ever feel “normal” again? And for goodness sake, why can’t I just let go?

I’m not sure there’s an answer to those questions, but I figured out a few things that I believe hold true for me…

While listening to a speaker this week (I can’t remember his name), he quoted the scripture, “Perfect love casts out fear,” and a realization hit me. As I have said, before when I first met Bruce, I was healing from an abusive past. However, his unconditional love and acceptance changed my life. And the best part is, he (and his family) said I changed his world for the better, as well. We both came into the relationship with our scars, but found healing in the love we shared. For us, it really was a perfect love.

When he died, I felt like I lost that… a lot of the old fear, worry and self-doubt returned. I didn’t think I could survive without him… But I have. I still miss him, though… And there are still days when I doubt myself and wish more than anything he were still here… More than anything, I want to feel him hold me and tell me it’s all going to be okay.

I’m not sure if what I’m about to say will make sense, but I will try because I have read about and talked to other widows and heard similar stories and similar frustrations…

Another thing I miss is Bruce’s quiet, gentle soul… He was protective but not aggressive… loving, not controlling… I mention this because since he passed, I have experienced a side of our culture that I would have sworn didn’t really exist… It is hurtful, and it is frustrating… And it involves a few beliefs out there about widows…

(1) We are desperately seeking a new husband. – This is a NO! At least, not me… or most of the widows I have spoken to. I am constantly shocked when people tell me to “move on and find someone new.” (Seriously?!) Give me time… Time to grieve… Time to heal and figure things out… However long it takes. This is not a switch that can be simply flipped on or off. Please just trust me, I’m not saying it will or won’t happen. I’m not saying “never,” but not right now… and there will never be a “hunt” or desperate search.

(2) Widows are desperate for sex. – Can I just say how absolutely insulting this is?!… Not just the thought itself, but the way it plays out. It blows my mind! Maybe it is today’s culture (and maybe I just don’t fit in), but getting random, inappropriate (aka – crude) messages from men (usually married or in a relationship) absolutely infuriates me.

Now, as I try to find my way in this world without Bruce – as I learn to stand firmly on my own two feet – I find myself remembering advice he used to give that I laughed off at the time. He would tell me to be cautious… to be kind and accepting of where people are on their journey, but trust needs to be earned, not just given out freely. Since Bruce died, especially as more time passes (and I experience the two scenarios above over and over), I realize how true those words are… And I miss him even more.

I always told Bruce he was my hero… Those words are so true…. And now, I miss my hero… I miss having him beside me… And I’m not sure that will ever change…

Learning to navigate through this journey is different for everyone… We all move through it at our own pace and in our own way. Perhaps you have had moments like I had this week. If so, would you be willing to share your experience? Perhaps there is someone else out there who needs to hear your story too. If you are someone who needs a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. *

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