Tag: saying goodbye

Peace, Love, and Grief… A Tribute to a Friend

I spent this morning with old friends back in SC celebrating the life of a fellow teacher… But not just any teacher. This teacher was a nun that started at our school not long after I started.

I wasn’t raised Catholic, so the only experience I had with nuns before that was from watching The Sound of Music. (Silly comparison, I know.) This dear, sweet nun, though, wasn’t like anything from Hollywood. (Thankfully!) She was her own dear, sweet person, and this particular dear, sweet nun meant the world to me. She touched my soul in ways I am still realizing years later. You know, they say you will likely never know the impact you have on others… I think that is so true. While she (sadly) isn’t here to read it, I wanted to write her a letter to tell her just how much she meant (and still means) to me…

Dear Sister,

Today, so many of us who love you gathered to celebrate your life. I can’t believe you are gone from us. As much as I know about death, I think there was a part of me that childishly thought you would always be here. When I learned of your passing months ago, I felt a hole open in my heart… A hole only you can fill. I cried then… and I cried today. It is hard to believe I will never again see your sweet smile or hear you say, “My love, my dove, my beautiful one.”

I didn’t know anything about nuns when I first met you. I thought nuns were supposed to be demure and passive. You, however, showed me something totally different. You showed me that a woman can love God and still be a strong force in this world. You knew what you believed in. You knew what you expected in others. You held all of us to a higher accountability… And we wanted to be there… I know I wanted that mainly because you believed I could.

I remember when it came to the kids you had high expectations around discipline. You did not mess around, and made your expectations known with no room for doubt. I can remember when the 8th grade boys were in trouble, they would beg to be sent to anyone but you… Not because you were cruel, but because none of us ever wanted to let you down. Yet, once discipline had been handled, it was over, and you once again called them “your love, your dove, your beautiful one”. Your love for each and every child (and the rest of us) was completely unconditional, (and we all knew that – there was no doubt). No matter what transpired, you always had a smile, and a hug for each and every one of us.

I remember times when you and I disagreed… But it was okay. You stated your thoughts and opinion, but you never tried to make me concede. It was a conversation with differing opinions – nothing more. (Or maybe you tried, but I was oblivious! LOL!)

Even when our family was splitting up, you were amazing. It was a hard time for our family, because divorce is hard – even when it is the right move. Ours also carried the weight of domestic violence and (still ongoing) threats. While your views were more conservative than mine, you were still supportive to me and loving to my children.

To this day, I still find myself sharing funny stories about our days teaching together and the many nuggets of wisdom you planted for all of us. While my faith journey has taken me in other directions, my faith and belief in God is still firm and you had a lot to do with that, because you were a perfect example of God’s love here on earth.

Thank you! Thank you for all you did so many years ago, and for all the seeds you planted that have helped me through the years. You were an amazing lady and I will always consider myself blessed to have known and worked with you on a daily basis for so long (and through such a hard portion of my life).

I love you, Sister! May you rest in the peace and love of our God – the God you served and loved so completely!
_________________________________________________________
Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone… and some days, it can be just a little bit harder. I don’t think any of us wants to be on this path, but this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined. Each time I think I have it figured out; I find I don’t at all, despite the years since Bruce passed. This year has been filled to the brim with challenges, but my goal has been to learn to simply “be” – whatever that looks like in each moment.

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.

Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

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

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Peace, Love and Grief… A Sad Day

Sometimes it really does seem like when it rains, it pours…

If you read this blog with any regularity, then you are probably already aware that this is a rough time of year for me emotionally. It’s not just the holidays… There are a lot of special days, as well. For example, just last week was Bruce’s and my wedding anniversary.

You may also remember that just a few weeks ago, our little family lost one of our cats, Duffy. Well, in the days since then, our oldest cat, Frogmore, has been on a steady decline…

He and Duffy had been together since Bruce and I got married. That means they had been together, day and night, for about 14 years, and he has very obviously missed her. While before, you would never have guessed he was such an old cat, this week has left no doubt.

Watching this decline, we are pretty sure Duffy was the one taking care of him. Almost immediately, we began to notice little things… For example, he couldn’t hear us… If we wanted him to come to us, we had to find him. We also realized that his sight became limited to shadows, at best, which means he couldn’t see at all in the dark.

Up until this week, he still seemed to be managing. However, this week has brought on a distinct difference. First of all, he was eating and drinking a lot less than normal. Also, his back legs were giving out from under him every few steps. Earlier this week, my daughter placed a shoe box on the ground, and that quickly became his second favorite place to be… As he lay in it, the sides would hold him up so he could still see what was going on around him. This is where he spent his days while we were at work and school.

Once we got home, however, all he wanted was to be in my arms… I could stand or sit, he didn’t care. He just wanted to lay his head on my arm, and every so often he would reach up with his arm and pull me closer into a hug. On the one hand, I loved it, and on the other, it broke my heart.

I think he knew his time was growing short… And I just wanted to breathe him in for as long as possible…

Frogmore was right at 20 years old. When my second daughter was a teenager, he was found as a kitten outside the store where she worked. The local Voodoo priestess had presented the kitten to her, with simple instructions to “love him.” He was immediately named for the sleepy town where we lived, Frogmore.

Throughout her last years of high school, she and Frogmore were inseparable. He slept on her pillow and brought her “gifts” of whatever he had hunted that day. She took care of him day and night, even through relentless cancer treatments in the early days.

Only once did he run away… My daughter had just left for college, and I would swear, he went looking for her. From that day forward, though, Frogmore has been by my side. He moved to Michigan (where he met Bruce’s cat, Duffy) and back here to Florida. He was the Winnie the Pooh of cats, with a heart of gold, a love of food and completely at peace with life.

We have had many pets through the years. Most of them died on their own – of natural causes or old age. Yet, this isn’t the first time we have had to make this decision. The first time was many years ago with our boxer. She had Lymphoma, and I hate to admit it, but we waited too long. She was in great pain and unable to move by the time we were able to let her go. It was totally selfish on our part, and not fair to her. With Duffy, we had no idea she was in any distress until we came home that day. With Frogmore, I wanted to do better.

So today, we said, “Goodbye.”

In theory, it sounds so simple… But it isn’t. It wasn’t an easy decision, and in fact, I have put it off a few times because I just couldn’t. However, I didn’t want him to suffer… I didn’t want something to happen and have him lay for hours waiting for us to get home. I didn’t want him to be in any more pain… In other words, it was probably one of the hardest decisions I have made, but I wanted to do right by him.

So here I sit – crying…

I know he was a cat… But he has been a part of this family for 20 years, and my heart is breaking. He has been by my side through so many milestones and pain points. He grieved with me when Bruce died, and I know he has grieved the loss of Duffy, (probably even more than we have). And now, today, we are grieving him…

Thank you, Frogmore, for always being here… For loving me through thick and thin… You will be missed more than you know, and I will love you always and forever!

What about you? I know I am writing about a pet today, but have you been here too? All of the pets Bruce and I shared are gone, and it is like another bridge to Bruce has closed. If you know what I mean, please share your story. This is OUR community, and I would love to hear from you. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Unexpected Memories

It’s hard to believe I have spent the last few days in Michigan. It felt so strange – so surreal. There are so many days when I miss Michigan. Let me clarify… There are so many days when I miss our time there… our time together. I have so many good and happy memories of us there. Sometimes I even wonder what it would be like if I could go back, or if I still lived there…

When I stepped off the plane on Thursday, I was excited at the idea of spending the next few days with Bruce’s family. I walked down the gangway and into the airport, and it hit me like a punch to the belly… All I could think about was the first time I walked down that same corridor, and there Bruce stood – leaning against a column watching the passengers disembark. The moment our eyes met, he broke into a grin from ear to ear.

On Thursday, I knew he wasn’t there waiting. (Oh, I wish he had been!) Yet, it all came back so fast and felt so real. I actually had to stop for a moment and look around to get my bearings in this reality. This town is filled with so many memories, I found myself pausing quite often while I was there to catch my breath and to remind myself what my reality IS.

There were other memories that came to mind as I found my way through the airport… There were the chairs where we would try to steal a few private moments before saying goodbye when we were dating, and the restaurant where we always had a pre-flight drink when we were flying together. I would swear I could remember every trip to the Gulf Coast to see his folks and the multiple trips to SC to see my family… And that was just the airport.

As I was driving through town, all I could think about is how beautiful Michigan is in the summer, and how I loved spending that first summer up there with Bruce. I can’t even begin to describe the pure lush, green of a Michigan Summer… It is absolutely amazing. That drive to Bruce’s family, out toward Lake Michigan, brought back the memories of all the times we drove out there to spend time on our sailboat, Island Buoy.

While I was there, Bruce’s sisters and I spent one evening out at Lake Michigan watching the sunset. At the water’s edge, we all put our toes in the water… And it was freezing!

All I could think about was the time Bruce anchored the sailboat offshore. The plan was to swim in and eat at the beach side restaurant. I put one foot in the water and immediately climbed back into the boat. There was no way I was swimming in that cold water. There was a short conversation between us, before Bruce conceded to let me ride on his shoulders (above the water). LOL!

Truthfully, I never swam in that lake… It was always too cold for me. Bruce took one picture of me with my feet in the water, but that was as far as I could manage… Just the memory of those days had me laughing happily inside as we watched the sun slide quietly from the sky.

The highlight for my trip was spending time with Bruce’s Mom and Dad. It was wonderful! Bruce has been gone for so long now, most people will tolerate a phrase or tow about him… maybe even the occasional shared memory, but too much “Bruce” seems to make the room grow silent. However, for two days, there was conversation after conversation with his parents, and each one was filled with Bruce. I loved it! (It was even better knowing they wanted and needed those conversations as much as I did.)

At one point, Dad said the kindest thing… He talked about how it felt when Mom had a couple of strokes in May and spent weeks on end at the hospital. He talked about how awful it was to come home to an empty house – without her… And how he realized in those moments how hard the last six years have been for me… without you.

He is one of the only people who has been able to experience that and to make that connection with me… All I could manage to say was, “Thank you!” Thank you for understanding… Thank you for validating how hard this has been.

He went on to say he couldn’t speak for the rest of the family, but he could definitely speak for himself, and he felt he could speak for Bruce. Then, he said he knew if something happened to Mom, he couldn’t handle that loneliness day after day… year after year… that he felt he would need someone. He wanted me to know that he (and Bruce) would be happy for me if I ever found someone who made me happy again. He kept stressing that he (and Bruce) wouldn’t want me to be alone for the rest of my life.

Honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about that part. I am grateful to have his blessing (and Bruce’s), if such a thing should happen… And I know “never say never.” However, I don’t know if I am really ready for such a thing. Then again, there’s no rush… not for me anyway – I’m okay for now.

As I write this, I am on the plane heading back home… All I can think is how lonely it feels leaving Michigan alone… It’s like saying goodbye to Bruce all over again… As I sit here, I am trying to hide the tears from the boy sitting next me… I feel so sad and lost… so alone… but in my heart, I know, “All shall be well… All shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” 1

What about you? How do handle those moments with the memories flood in and threaten to take over your reality? Is there a way to balance your grief with your current life? I know there isn’t a schedule, and everyone heals in their own time. However, that doesn’t make this journey any easier. I believe this is where we can help each other… By sharing our stories and experiences, we can all feel validated and supported. Please feel free to reach out and share your story or thoughts. To do so, go to the comments and leave 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

1 ~ Julian of Norwich

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

Peace, Love and Grief… 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

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