precious memories – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love, and Grief – Mindfulness

Note: I apologize for missing last week. I was on vacation with my son and just wanted to stay focused on our time together.

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For anyone who has been reading about my journey over the years, you know that this has been a long road for me. While my grief has been centered on the loss of Bruce, part of what has made this struggle so hard was that I never learned how to grieve in the first place. The few times in my life where I did experience loss, it was presented to me in the form of what I would call toxic religion. (Just sayin’.) With each loss, it was presented as a “celebration” because that person was “in a better place.” Tears and grief were placed in a category of non-faith… They were paramount to sin and were to be stifled…

But when Bruce died, I couldn’t do that anymore… The pain was too deep… At the same time, I couldn’t even begin to process my grief over the loss of Bruce until I went back and learned to process all the other losses from my past… I guess it is no secret that this has taken me a little while.

It is like the pendulum swung completely the other way… I went from not knowing how to grieve to not knowing how to stop grieving. I knew I needed help… No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t quite figure it all out on my own. I needed help…

It has not been a secret that over the past few years I have been working hard in therapy… It started as a recognition of things within myself that I wanted to change, and has become a whole lot more… The biggest piece being the work we have done around PTSD and the different traumatic events that have kept me stuck emotionally.

I am learning that…

I am enough… I really do have control… I am strong and my strength comes from the Divine within; all I have to do is be still and connect to the truth.

In other words, it is about being mindful… About finding the wonder and awe within the present moment. It is about remembering those precious memories from the past, but not remaining so focused on them that I miss what is happening right in front of me. It is about finding the love in each moment and each person on my path.

Yes, I still miss Bruce. Yes, I would give my soul to have him back. Yet, I also know that he is gone… No amount of wishing is going to bring him back. I can relive those precious memories a million times in my head, but that is never going to change the fact that they are still only memories… No more.

I have also come to realize that if I am here, there must be a reason… and that reason must be for a greater purpose than grief. So… more and more I am working to stay present in the moment… To feel the love of those who choose to be in my life… To find the joy there and to create even more precious memories…

This is where life happens… And after all we have been through, we know how precious each moment here truly is…

“Mindfulness Is paying attention on purpose, in the present moment, nonjudgmentally. It’s seeing things as they are not as we prefer them to be.” ~ Nelson, Ronka, and Lang, Designing & Leading Life-Changing Workshops
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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. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. 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. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.

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 – Memory Lane

Before Bruce passed, I had never kept a journal before. However, when he died, one of the first things my mother suggested for the grief I was struggling with was to start a journal. I had no idea what to write or how to put all the feelings I had on paper in such a way as to be helpful. Yet, the minute I picked up a pin and opened that first blank book, the struggle was gone. My mother was right… This was going to be my outlet.

In the beginning, I write several times a day… There was so much weighing on my soul that I needed to simply get out. While I no longer write daily, I do write consistently. I guess with no one around to talk to, this is still a wonderful outlet for me.

This week, while filling out some paperwork, I found myself in need of some dates that were foggy at best inside my own head. My journals, though… they list almost every important event over the last decade, so that is where I went… And while I was perusing through, I found myself walking down memory lane as I read through the entries.

In the beginning, I was so scared of forgetting all the wonderful moments Bruce and I shared, that I started recording them in my journals. I am so glad I did, because there were stories and events that I had not thought about for years. In fact, reading these entries has been such a bittersweet experience, I thought I would share a story or two with you, in Bruce’s honor. After all, as long as his story is still being told, he is not forgotten…

January 20, 2013

On the first cruise where I met Bruce, we danced and danced – all night, every night. I was so excited to take the same cruise the next year as our honeymoon (with two of my kids in tow – LOL). However, on this second cruise, Bruce would not dance at all. He simply wouldn’t. In the cabin one night, I was upset and (actually) crying. (I had been so excited about a “repeat” cruise.)

“But I don’t need to dance now. We’re married,” he said. He wasn’t trying to be mean; he was just being honest… and a guy. He did finally dance with me… once. However, it was pretty clear, he didn’t want to. Through the years, he danced with me quite often – barefoot in the kitchen… but rarely did it last a full song.

Our last Christmas together, as we were figuring out new traditions (just for us) in order to adjust to “childless” Christmases, I told him that one new tradition I wanted was for him to dance one full song with me on Christmas. He actually laughed out loud, but he didn’t say yes or no. As for me, I knew how he functioned… I wasn’t going to get an answer. I would simply have to wait and see.

Christmas day came, and it was fun… There were gifts (of course), skyping with family, kayaking, drinks with the neighbors, and a (very) small traditional Christmas dinner. As we went into the bedroom for bedtime, I told him that I still wanted my dance. He smiled, nodded, and asked, “What song?”

I quickly put in Jim Brickman’s song, The Gift, since I’ve always told Bruce he was the best Christmas gift ever. He loved it. We danced with tears in our eyes – each of us overwhelmed by our love in that moment.
I will always treasure that dance. It wasn’t the last dance. (He actually danced with me repeatedly just a week later on New Years – all on his own.) However, this moment was private, tender… like dancing with my Prince Charming… and it ended in a kiss that I will always remember.

January 24, 2013

The story of the spoons… Oh my goodness! Keep in mind, this story is about two people who love each other, but also have a whole lifetime of living very different lives with very different ways of communicating.

So… I am a stuff person. Not like a hoarder, but I do like things that carry an emotional attachment (as long as each thing has a place where it belongs). Bruce, on the other hand, was a minimalist. (For the record, I’ve learned to find a balance between the two.) Keep in mind that when we married, I moved from my 3000 SQ Ft home to his 900 SQ Ft condo, which meant leaving most of what I owned behind. Now, take a moment and just let that sink in… As you could guess, there were times (in the beginning) when my invasion of “stuff” made him crazy.

On one such day, I came home from work to find him a wee bit crabby. On the counter, he had a long silver box, which he slid toward me as he asked, “What is this?”

“A Charleston rice spoon,” I replied warily – not quite sure where this was going.

“Do you need it?” he asked.

(Now, for those who aren’t familiar, a Charleston rice spoon is something every Charleston girl receives on her wedding day… It is tradition… It is a big deal.

“Yes,” I answered. “It means a lot to me. It is part of my heritage. It is traditional.”

He sighed. “Well, do you have to keep it in the kitchen?”

“It’s a spoon,” I answered, getting annoyed.

“Could you keep it somewhere else?” he asked with a bit of attitude.

“I guess,” I responded… At that point, the wheels started turning. Then, while he was in the shower, I removed every spoon from the kitchen and hid them in my dresser drawers. After all, if my spoon didn’t belong in the kitchen, then obviously no spoon belonged in the kitchen. Plus, all week, he had been talking about making French Onion Soup the next day.

“Let’s see him eat that with no spoon,” I thought to myself. “Ha!” (Yes, very petty and passive-aggressive – I am very much aware.)

The next day, I came home from work to find Bruce eating the soup with a measuring spoon. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“Eating my soup. It’s good. Want some?” he replied nonchalantly.

“Why are you eating using that instead of a real spoon?” I asked, chuckling to myself as I tried to keep a straight face.

“I think all the spoons are dirty,” he said. “This was all I could find.”

OH MY GOSH!! I laughed so hard at myself!! He never noticed the spoons were gone… or he didn’t really care. Either way, it didn’t phase him a lick.

He was always that way – totally oblivious to my drama! (Which I learned quite quickly to give up.) What a great man! I love him so much! I don’t think that will ever go away!!

“The friends that we have lost do not repose in the bosom of the earth, but are buried deep in our hearts, and it has been thus ordained that we may always be accompanied by them.”
~ Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

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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. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. 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.

Peace, Love, and Grief… Triggers

Can we talk about triggers today? Oh my gosh! Before Bruce died, I had no idea how many triggers there would be… There have been things that I would have never guessed would be a trigger, but they are. Do you know what I mean?

In the beginning, the triggers were everywhere – all around me and all the time.

If I saw a couple together holding hands or being affectionate – trigger! All I could think about was everything I was missing and would never have again.

If I saw a couple arguing – trigger! Didn’t they know how precious our time here is? That tomorrow isn’t guaranteed for any of us? Why would you waste even one moment being angry about something that probably won’t even matter tomorrow or be remembered in a year?

If I was walking through the grocery store and saw Bruce’s favorite beer – trigger! I couldn’t get past the knowledge that I will never again buy that beer for him or taste it on his lips.

If I was listening to the radio and “our song” (or any song attached to a special memory) came on – trigger! Such precious moments that are over and gone.

So… many… triggers!

As time has passed, the triggers are less frequent but not less intense. In fact, this last week or so, (for some crazy reason that only the Universe knows), has been filled with triggers.

It started with a book my boss loaned me. I didn’t know anything about the book. I had never heard of the book. I didn’t ask to borrow the book. She happened to bring it to me and simply said, “I just finished this and thought you would really connect with it.” So I read it.

At first, I didn’t quite understand what she thought I would connect with. The main character was only in her 20s, and that was a long time ago for me. However, as the storyline progressed, I realized this main character was in an abusive relationship. (I literally had to put the book down and pull myself together emotionally several times while reading.)

Yet, not only did I connect with the abusive portion and all that it entailed, there was also the hero in her life that offered her the safety of a loving relationship (just as Bruce did for me so many years ago). The book was great, but it took me several days to push down all the domestic violence memories and remind myself that I am safe now. (Although, admittedly, without Bruce I still struggle in that department.)

Then in the next book I was reading, one of the main characters had a heart attack, and that particular chapter was told from his viewpoint. For me, it felt like I was reading about Bruce’s death with Bruce telling me the story. I can’t lie… It was really hard to read, and the tears would not stop. All the memories of that night and my own feelings of failing him flooded back and filled my soul.

Later in the week, I was watching a movie with a friend. She warned me beforehand that there might be some parts that would trigger me. (Thank you, my friend!) But I wanted to watch it anyway. As the movie progressed, I slowly came to realize that the mother in the movie was dealing with a recurrence of breast cancer and was dying. (Yes, one of my fears.) At the point where it all becomes crystal clear, she is lying in her husband’s arms crying and telling him how scared she is… All he can do is hold her close and kiss her.

True, this never occurred between Bruce and I because I got cancer after he died. But I found myself feeling a little bit jealous that he was never able to do that. I needed him back then and would have given anything to have had his love and support when I went down that road. (Yes… I do realize that the movie is fiction and being jealous is silly. However, I cannot control how I feel, only what I choose to do with those feelings. So, I am just being honest here.)

And finally…

One evening this week, I was sitting in my reading chair (not reading). I was simply sitting there, looking at our space, and missing Bruce (a lot). I had been silent for quite a while. However, when I found myself looking at a picture of him fishing at the beach, I simply said out loud, “I miss you, Babe”. Suddenly, the Alexa in the kitchen started playing Jimmy Buffet’s song, “A Pirate Looks at 40”. (To clarify, JB was our favorite. We went to several concerts through the years, and spent many nights simply dancing barefoot to his tunes in the kitchen.) I didn’t know whether to smile or cry when it happened… so I did both. (I don’t know that this was necessarily a trigger as much as a comfort to my soul after all the other triggers, and I am so grateful for it.)

Honestly, I don’t think the triggers will ever stop being a thing. I also believe that time does help me manage those triggers better and better. For example, in the beginning, I had to wear sunglasses almost everywhere I went so people couldn’t see that I was crying. Now, I am pretty good at pushing the tears back, (or keeping them to a minimum), and moving on… waiting to contemplate whatever trigger happened later when I am alone to write it out and/or think it through. I can’t say dealing with triggers gets any easier with time, but I do think over time I am learning to work through them in a much more healthy way… which is a step in the right direction.
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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.

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.

Peace, Love, and Grief… Remembering the Good

I can’t even begin to count the number of self-help books and articles I have read since Bruce died. I seem to always have one that I am reading and the next one waiting on the bedside table. In the beginning they seemed to all be about dealing with grief, and over time, that has grown into many “side” topics that still relate back to grief in some fashion (at least, for me). Shoot! Even when the topic has nothing to do with grief, I seem to always find some tidbit I can apply that helps my grief journey move forward, even if it is only a baby step.

When Bruce first died, all I could focus on was the fact that he was gone, and I was alone. Nothing else seemed to sink in… Nothing else mattered. Everything in my mind was centered on the absolute awfulness of the entire situation – all the years left to be alone, all the holidays and special moments that would never be… The future looked bleak… Life wasn’t supposed to be like this, and yet, this was all I could see.

Back then, I felt so lost, even prayer was something I couldn’t find the ability to do. People would say things to try to make me feel better, but I couldn’t hear the love in what they were saying. All I could hear was what felt like judgement or a complete inability to understand what I was going through. I can’t even tell you how many times I heard that I needed to learn to look for the positives in all this – to rejoice and be thankful.

Excuse me?? NO!! I couldn’t do that any more than I could bring Bruce back… (And believe me, if I could have done either of those things, I would have.)

As time has passed, I have learned a few things about this journey… They aren’t big. They are quite small, but for me, these have made a huge difference in my ability to navigate this path just a little bit better.

1. God never said to be thankful for all circumstances. The verse actually says to be thankful in all circumstances. In other words, this verse is meant to be a reminder to look for the blessings around us, even when we are in the middle of something awful… like grief. It was never meant to be used in judgement or to make us feel bad about where we are emotionally. It is simply a sign on the journey… a reminder… nothing more.

2. As time passes, I think less and less about that terrible night when Bruce died. I haven’t forgotten it… I will always remember every last detail. However, I don’t think about it all the time. Instead, I find myself remembering all the good times… all the sweet memories we built together… all the love I felt when we were together… That is where my mind goes these days.

3. And because that is now where my mind tends to stay, I am finally able to pray for God to help me accept what I have to accept… To understand that death is as much a part of this life as breathing. You see, as long as I was focused solely on the negatives, I couldn’t remember the good things, and I couldn’t vocalize that prayer. Yet, when I am focused on the good things, the negatives turn out to be not so powerful, and I can breathe.

I’m not sure where along the line things changed, but this week, I realized that I have finally come to a point where the good memories greatly outweigh the sadness at least 90% of the time. That’s pretty good, don’t you think? I mean, sure… It has taken me a while to get here… and I still have a ways to go… But in the meantime, I will celebrate and accept the joy of remembering the good, and be thankful that I am learning to accept what I have to accept.
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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… I Speak Your Name

“So long as they speak your name, you shall never die.” ~ Dan Brown

If you were paying attention, you may have noticed there was no blog from me last week. Instead, I was at the beach with Bruce’s sisters. It was our annual trip – a tradition started years ago… before I ever even came into the picture. However, once I was in the picture (and ever since), I have been included.

The first year, I was quite apprehensive about going. My previous in-laws made no bones about how they felt about me from the very beginning. Suffice it to say, I was always the outsider. So, the idea of spending a week with new sisters whom I barely knew scared me to death.

In fact, it’s funny now, but that first year, I was so scared that Bruce ended up flying into the same town too, and stayed at a hotel across town, just in case. He knew I wouldn’t need him, but I didn’t. All I knew was that I was so apprehensive about the whole thing, I needed that added security of a “just in case”. (He teased me about it for years, but I didn’t mind. His willingness to be my “just in case” only made me love him that much more.)

Times have changed, though. Now (for me, at least), this annual trip is a chance to spend some very special time with the family he grew up in. It is very much a safe place where I am not an outsider. Instead, I am family (and all that entails). From my perspective, one of the best parts of the week is that his name comes up in conversation a lot… and not just from me. His sisters talk about him as much as I do. I think we all need it… After all, they shared a life with him, too… They have so many memories with him growing up and throughout their adulthood.

It is so nice to know I can talk (and/or cry) about anything “Bruce” without worrying about being a “Debbie-downer” or ruining someone else’s day or vacation. I love it!

They have stories about the Bruce they grew up with – the boy, the teenager, the young adult, the brand-new dad… All the things that were pre-me. It is a side of Bruce I never knew, but each year I get to know that part of him a little bit better. In return, I get to share stories of our quiet conversations, a great husband, an adventurer, and so many other parts of him that they never had the chance to know.

And all of that is important…

Years ago, when I started this blog, one of the things I kept saying was, “As long as there is a breath left in my body, I will speak your name… I won’t let you be forgotten.” … That is still true… And a whole week of sharing Bruce-isms and memories has made my heart sing…

I love you, Babe… And I promise, I will always speak your name – not just because I won’t forget you, but because I can’t forget you.
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This journey isn’t easy… not that you need me to tell you that. Loss is hard, and the grief we are left to figure out is even harder. Thankfully, though, there are moments where our souls can be refreshed – Moments where I learn a little bit more about life, faith, and love.

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.

Peace, Love, and Grief… Dreaming in Reverse

“Grieving is dreaming in reverse… But when you are grieving over something or someone that was taken away, you wish you could go back in time. You dream in reverse.” ~ Lysa Terkeurst, Forgiving What You Can’t Forget

I ran across this quote this week in a book I am reading, and the truth of it seemed to almost slap me in the face. This is how I feel every single day… every single moment. I would give almost anything for things to be different… For Bruce to still be here. For this Sunday afternoon to be spent laying on the beach next to him, pinkies entwined, instead of sitting here writing about grief.

At the same, every time I think of Bruce and any of my precious memories of our time together, I smile. Why? Because I am dreaming in reverse. Because those are the memories that captured our love for each even in the most simple of moments. My grandmother always referred to these as “precious memories.” I also adopted that term not too many years ago, because that is exactly what they are – precious memories.

“Instead of hoping for what will one day be, you long for a more innocent time when you lived more unaware of tragedy. 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

Healing does feel impossible at times – mainly because of a couple of things…

First of all, after the loss of someone you love so much, it is hard to know which way is forward. You know the expectation is to “heal,” but how does that happen when it hurts so badly. How do you move through each day? How do you learn to smile again or to laugh? How do you fill the time the two of you used to share at the end of the day or on your days off?

Sometimes people are quick to give advice on how to do these things, but they have no idea how the actual application works. It would be like telling a baby to just get up and walk, then not understanding why they don’t. As if it were that simple… As if there is not a process – a building of strength, balance, and confidence – before that baby can even attempt that first step.

It is the same with grief. We want to feel how we did before we lost this person we love, but that is no longer possible. So, then we have to try to figure out what this journey is supposed to be like, and how we are supposed to feel and function. We also have to build our strength, our balance, and our confidence before we can even attempt to move forward – wherever that is.

I don’t know how to explain it, but “dreaming in reverse” can sometimes be the way we do those things. We have to be careful not to get “stuck” looking back, but still… Those memories often times hold the clues we need to move forward… I guess it is somehow linked to remembering the love we had for each other and learning to love ourselves that same way – with that same abandon and sense of adventure.

The second reason I have found for struggling to heal in the wake of loss is a fear of forgetting this person we (still) love so very much. It can be terrifying to think that we might forget who they were, what they sounded like, how it felt to be with them, and all the things that made them “our person.” For example, in my case, I have pictures of Bruce. (Although I wish there were more.) I treasure these moments caught in time, mainly because that is all I have left. I also have three videos of him – three… that’s it. And he only talks in one of them… He is playing with our grandson and says one word – “Almost”. That’s it… That’s all I have… one word… and it leaves me terrified of forgetting his voice.

So how do you heal, (or as some people say, “move on”), when you are trying so hard to hang on and not forget? I don’t know what to tell you except that the whole “dreaming in reverse seems to help… All of those precious memories seem to bring me comfort… This is the space where I do remember… where I know Bruce and our love for each other still lives on.

So, if you ever read this and wonder how I can still be here writing about grief nine years later, here’s why… Bottom line – it’s hard… This whole grief thing is just plain hard… And no one has the answer on how to heal or move forward, because there isn’t a “one-size-fits-all” answer… Which means each of us has to figure out our own path… Talk about hard… talk about rough… talk about feeling overwhelming and impossible at times.

So yes… These are some of the reasons we constantly find ourselves “dreaming in reverse”.

This grief thing really is hard, and honestly, while I have learned a lot, I still hate it. There are more good days than there used to be, but I still constantly find myself wishing for the past. Grief has changed me in ways I could never have prepared for, and in ways no one else might understand. Life on this path is sometimes filled with challenges I never imagined. And each time I think I have it figured out, something happens, and I find I haven’t figured it out at all.

However, finding ways to stay grounded and remembering how blessed I am to have known Bruce’s love (even for a short time) has been my path to survival and healing. At this point in my journey, I am learning that while I remember the past, I must also keep looking at this life before me and recognizing the joy, love, and hope it still holds… Then, learning 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.

Peace, Love and Grief… And Just Like That, It’s Halloween Again

I can’t believe it is already Halloween… again! My goodness! Where does the time go? Throughout my life – while growing up, when my children were little, and while Bruce was alive, Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. However, the season always seemed to start WAY before December… In a way, Halloween has always marked the beginning of an entire season of fun – A time filled with holidays and big events with Christmas being the climax.

To this day, I am so very thankful for the last holiday season that Bruce and I shared. The memories from that year are so very precious now. Although at the time, it just seemed like another holiday season. With Halloween falling this weekend, I am reminded again, just how precious our time with our loved ones really is…

Until Bruce died, I never really thought of Halloween as a holiday with special memories, but I was wrong… As I look back, over the years I can find so many small things that still make me smile….

For example, when we lived in Michigan, there were no Trick or Treaters. We lived in a second-floor condo which required a code for entrance. There were no children in the building except my (then) teenage daughter and no way for anyone to enter. So, no one knocked on our door yelling, “Trick or Treat.” We didn’t buy candy, and other than the shenanigans at work, it was just another day.

Then when we moved to Florida, we decided to live in an apartment for the first year until we got our bearings. With the exception of my (then) toddler grandson dressed as a pirate and one group of teenagers (who knocked on our door at 10 PM) no one came. Again, other than the shenanigans at work, it was pretty much just another day.

Then, we moved to the house where I live now…

I knew there were a lot of children in the neighborhood, so I bought three of those huge bags of candy and tried to prep Bruce for what was probably coming. For him, it had been well over a decade since he had answered a door on Halloween to pass out candy. At the time, though, all he heard was “candy.” As soon as he realized I had hidden it somewhere in the house, it was “game on”… He went on a hunt despite my saying that it was for Halloween – not him.

I will always remember the Cheshire Cat grin on his face as he walked back into the kitchen with a handful of chocolate. He had found the entire stash in the third place he looked. I couldn’t figure out how in the world he had found it so flippin’ fast! According to him, the fact that I am so short narrowed the hiding places down by more than half. Then, he just thought of where there might be enough space for three huge bags… All I can tell you is that by Halloween, I had to replace more than one of those silly bags.

On Halloween, he grouched every time the doorbell rang, and I laughed and poked fun at him for being a crabby, old man… The next year, our last Halloween together, was different, though. He was actually excited about the night and loved answering the door. I stood back and watched him as he talked to all the kids (even the teenagers). He even found a mask he had bought years before and tried to scare a few poor souls. It was such a fun night, and we both fell into bed laughing at the end of it.

Now looking back, I don’t know if he was just trying to enjoy Halloween or if he knew what was coming and wanted to leave me with some fun memories… Either way, that night warms my heart.

The next year was my first year without Bruce quickly, and the day became a challenge that I wasn’t expecting. To my mind, Halloween is a kid’s holiday. It really isn’t about adults or family memories… And to be honest, we had only had one really fun Halloween together. However, that first year showed me that Halloween would come to mark the start of what is generally a few rough months for me emotionally…

Journal: 10/31/2013
(morning)
“The first of the holidays – this one always feels like the “kick-off” for the holiday season. I don’t really feel like celebrating but I did buy candy. I woke up this morning, and I just feel pissed. I don’t think this will be a good day… not really looking forward to it – don’t really feel like festivities or anything like it.“

(night)
“Halloween without you, Babe! Too hard!! I miss you!! I keep thinking about you answering the door last year and all the fun. This year is hard, though. I am listening to Jimmy Buffet and wishing you were here… Six kids so far and I am crying. Maybe I should just turn out the light and call it a night.
So sad… just so very sad… What is – is. Nothing I do will ever change it. I feel like I shouldn’t be here, but I am… maybe one day I will understand why I am still here.”

Then, years later, I spent Halloween with my daughter and grandson.

Journal: 11/1/2015
“Hi Babe… This weekend was really good for me. I couldn’t be with you, but I was with people I love. I’m sure you would guess that we stayed very busy. You would have loved watching our grandson… he is more excited about his costume and handing out the candy, than actually going door to door to get any (which just cracks me up.) Afterward, there was an impromptu party back at the house. It was wonderful chaos – the house was filled with very tired but laughing adults and kids too excited to settle down.
Saturday included an Octoberfest at their school/church. You would have loved it – German food and beer. I only teared up once… when the kids performed their Fall music program. I know you were there… I know you were watching… but I still wish I could have seen your face. You and your little “Beaudroux” had such a close connection, I know you would have been beaming with pride.
The night ended with a dinner party at a friend’s house. It was fun, and they made me feel so welcome. I can’t say I like it, but I am getting (more) used to going to parties without you by my side…
It wasn’t until the wee, dark hours of the night when I was actually alone with my thoughts that the tears fell. My emotions were a little bit of melancholy, sadness, loneliness and (believe it or not)… guilt. I miss you, Babe. I still managed to have fun but then I feel guilty about that. Crazy, I know, but that is what I felt. I wonder if that is normal?“

Through the years, I have gotten stronger. While these next few months are still difficult ones for me, I have definitely gotten better at taking it one day… one moment at a time. I am better at enjoying the time with friends and family and cherishing the memories we are making together. I have also learned to give myself some grace… I have learned that it’s okay to feel what I feel… It’s okay to grieve the fact that my heart is broken because Bruce isn’t here to share any part of this anymore.

How we handle the big days can vary year to year, moment to moment. Sometimes we manage these better than other times… We’re only human, and this is a tough journey. What about you? How do you manage your big days? This journey is filled with challenges I never imagined. Each time I think I have it figured out; I find I don’t at all. Honestly, none of us ever know from one day to the next, or one moment to the next, (one holiday to the next), when another wave of grief will hit or what will be the next trigger, and that can make this journey feel so completely baffling and hard to navigate.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone. We are here for each other and, 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.

Peace, Love, and Grief… Contemplations

I have good friends.
I have good family.
I am in a good place.
So, why does it still hurt so bad?
~ Linda, 2021

Hi Babe,
It’s odd how life just continues to plug along… Some days it feels like only yesterday you were here, and other days it feels as if I have been alone and missing you forever. This is that time of year that gets hard for me… all the holidays plus so many of our special days… Sometimes I just sit here in the quiet… waiting… listening… wishing I could hear your voice just one more time… But I don’t… All I hear is the never ending quiet. A quiet that at times brings me comfort and at other times threatens to swallow me.

I love looking around and finding odds and ends that remind me of you. Sometimes it is a little memento of a special time we had together, such as a shell picked up while diving on our honeymoon. Or maybe just seeing your tools still in the garage… waiting. (You would be proud. I’ve learned how to use a lot of them.) Then, there are your books – books on fishing and sailing, books on health and working out, books on travel, and books on philosophy. Many of them I have read by now, and the others just make me smile because they are so completely “you”. Somedays I just love picking up a photo album, curling up on the couch, and thumbing through… remembering the days and moments caught on film – how absolutely precious these are to me now.

I miss you so much, and I don’t know if I will ever get used to living in this world without you… Which is kind of strange, since we didn’t even have that much time together… only eight short years. The thing is you changed my world so much…

Before you, I can remember crying and wondering if I would ever know what it was like to be loved… really loved… There was so much hurt and pain left by my first marriage. I had been convinced (by him) that I wasn’t worth loving. But then you came along, and suddenly I was loved – totally and completely! Everything I had ever imagined or wished for came true with you… I knew it was rare… I knew it was a precious gift… What I didn’t know was just how short our time together would be… That has probably been the hardest part to accept – our life together had practically just started, and just as suddenly, it was over.

Sigh… (It’s times like this that I have to remind myself to breathe.)

I miss you, Babe… More than you could ever know. And I love you… I will always love you – Always and forever!

I miss you.
I think of you and my heart warms.
So then,
How do I face tomorrow?
How do I face another day without you?
My heart was broken into a thousand pieces when you left.
How am I to pick it up and move forward?
I still don’t know…
~ Linda, 2021

I say this every week, because I believe it is important… this is not an easy path for any of us. It is not a path I ever saw myself on, and you probably didn’t either. I don’t think any of us wants to be here, but this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. This journey is filled with challenges I never imagined. Each time I think I have it figured out; I find I don’t at all. Honestly, none of us ever know from one day to the next, or one moment to the next, when another wave of grief will hit or what will be the next trigger, and that can make this journey feel so completely baffling and hard to navigate.

Peace, Love, and Grief… Sometimes It’s Still Hard to Believe

“We have been and always will be a part of each other.” ~ John Denver

This week, one of my daughters sent me some pictures of Bruce and I from a cruise we had all taken together. I recognized the trip immediately… As all of the fun and revelry of that week came back to me, a smile spread over my face.

What precious memories!

I remember sitting in the lounge chairs on deck, just reading and sipping drinks as we relaxed on that first afternoon. I remember dinners filled with laughter and silliness. I remember the “Bathrobe Party” on deck one night and doing shots at Senior Frogs in Mexico. I remember ziplining through the rainforest in Belize and touring the Mayan ruins. I remember going from one fun adventure to the next – hand in hand with the love of my life – enjoying every step along the way.

I remember all of it! Every fun, crazy, wonderful moment!

I actually even remember most of the pictures we took on that trip. I had seen them at some point before this week, but it has been years.

“Do you have a copy of these?” she texted.

“I do now,” I replied with a smiley face.

As I sat there staring at the screen – smiling and remembering that week, I also felt the tears start to slide down my cheek. Kind of like when it rains, and the sun is shining at the same time. It was one of those bittersweet, weird moments when my emotions are all over the place.

It seems like it is in those moments that I find myself sitting there, trying to comprehend all over again that he is really gone… Like forever, really gone.

It probably sounds silly, but there are times when is still hard to comprehend. I think there is this part of me that will always feel like he is still coming home. That this reality is actually, somehow temporary… Then, it hits me all over again… I am reminded that he will never have another birthday or watch another sunset. I will never again see him smile or hear him whisper that he loves me. We will never again snuggle on the couch or sit on the beach holding hands… ever… all of that is forever gone.

Those are the moments that catch me by surprise… Those are the moments where it is still hard to believe he is truly gone…

Forever…

Gone.

Then… I took a breath, and I looked at those pictures again. And at that point, I was reminded of something else… As surely as there is breath in my lungs, I know that as long as I (or anyone who loved him) remembers Bruce, he will always live on. He will always be a part of our world… and a part of my heart.

This journey is an odd one isn’t it? We never know from one day to the next, or one moment to the next, when something will remind us of our loved ones. We never know when another wave of grief will hit or what will be the next trigger. That can sometimes make this journey feel even more lonely. Yet, there are other times when I know I am not alone at all. We are here for each other. This journey holds both challenges and peace-filled moments for each of us. Yet, it is actually 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… Dancing in the Kitchen

Earlier this week, something popped into my Face Book feed – access to watch a live Jimmy Buffet concert via YouTube. (Thank you, Jimmy, and thank you, YouTube!) It never fails… If Jimmy Buffet is playing, I’m dancing… And in my soul, Bruce is there dancing with me… And my soul is completely at peace.

I know many times I’ve talked about the two of us dancing in the kitchen. I’ve also talked about meeting on a sailing schooner in the islands… But I’m not sure I’ve ever explained how they go together or why dancing in the kitchen holds such precious memories for me. It’s not a long story, but it’s the one I want to share today… Partly because it is a sweet story, but mostly because it has been on my mind all week, creating smiles throughout a week that has felt like chaos.

Yes, it all started on that 100-year-old sailing schooner where we boarded at a port in St. Thomas. I’ve already talked about how we met, so I won’t repeat that part. I want to jump ahead to the middle of the week…

Every night around 5 PM, one of two things happened. Either we were sailing for the next island so there was a party on the main deck with rum punch served liberally, or we were at another port and the entire ship (crew and passengers) all went ashore to enjoy the local night life. Either way, Bruce and I always managed to be together – dancing the night away. I love to dance… I have loved it my entire life. The problem is every else doesn’t always feel that way. (My first husband had a lot of energy – yes, but dancing was not his thing… So, we didn’t.)

So, here I was on my first trip as a single woman, and here was this man who was fun to be with, made me feel like I was the only woman in the world who mattered, made me laugh, and who danced every dance with me the entire cruise. I remember being on St. Johns at a bar called, Duffy’s. It was nothing more than a shack, and it was packed. At one point, the captain came over and asked to cut in and Bruce said, “No.” No explanation or second glance… just a “no” before he guided me to another part of the dance floor. I giggled. The captain was nice, but I wanted to dance with Bruce.

Later that same night, in that same bar, Bruce looked me in the eye, leaned over, and kissed me for the first time. Then he said, “You are the most incredible lady.” (I’m pretty sure I melted.) Later he laughed when he told me, he half expected me to slap him for “stealing” a kiss. I remember laughing and telling him that he didn’t “steal” anything… That kiss… That moment in time is forever etched in my heart.

***Dancing the night away onboard the Legacy***

Now let’s jump forward a year… same cruise, same time of year, same islands, same opportunities to dance. The only difference was we were now married, and this was our honeymoon. I was so excited with the anticipation of reliving that fabulous cruise from the year before. Bruce, however, had a different vision. We still went to the deck parties and the bars on the islands, but he wouldn’t dance. Every time I suggested we dance; he would just shake his head. I was so frustrated. I didn’t understand what had happened…

By the second night, I was beside myself. As we crawled in bed and turned out the lights, I let the tears come. Bruce pulled me into his arms and asked what was wrong. So, I told him… Last year, we had danced and danced, but now, on our honeymoon, he hadn’t danced with me even once, and I didn’t understand. I remember, Bruce looked genuinely confused. He looked me in the eye and said, “But now I know you love me. I’ve already won the prize. Why do I need to dance this year?”

He was completely serious, and I was completely caught off guard. So, I responded with the first thing that came to my heart, “Because I need to know you still love me.” Bruce didn’t say a word, he just held me close.

The next day, though, things changed. We didn’t dance every dance, but we did dance a lot… and each time he would lean in and whisper, “I love you.”

“I know,” I would respond with a grin.

But that isn’t the end… Once we were home, that is when the “kitchen dancing” started. We might be cooking dinner together, or in a heated discussion, or I might have just walked in the door from work. Next thing I know, he would turn on some Jimmy Buffet, pull me close, and we would dance… “I love you,” he would always whisper in my ear… And I knew he did.

This was us… This is one of my precious memories that brings peace to my soul… 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 are here for each other. 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.