tears – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love, and Grief – Tears

“What soap is for the body; tears are for the soul.” ~ Old Jewish Proverb

Tears… I can’t think of any other image that is a better representation of grief than tears. Tears have become such a part of my day-to-day life since Bruce died. At first, my eyes were constantly brimming with tears that spilled out and down my cheeks at the most inopportune moments. As time has passed, though, I have learned a little more self-control, and those same tears are relegated to quiet, private moments when I am alone with my thoughts… and my grief.

I wish I could say that society understands and is compassionate when it comes to tears, but that really cannot be said as a blanket statement. In my experience, I have found that society may be patient with a few quiet tears spilling down your cheek… once. However, anything more than that, and people become uncomfortable… Then, the go-to response seems to be trying to get the crier to stop.

Even as a child, that message was perfectly clear. I can remember either being made fun of when I cried (shaming), or I was told that if I didn’t stop, I would be given a reason to cry (threats). Let me just say that neither of those approaches were helpful. Those responses just led me to keep secrets… Secrets of shame… Secrets of hurt… Lots and lots of secrets never shared… never expressed… never released… and never processed.

“Crying feels cleansing, a way to purge pent-up emotions so they don’t lodge in our bodies as stress symptoms such as fatigue or pain.” ~ Martha Creek, Martha’s Pearls: A Spiritual Approach to Life

But… my grandfather… My dear, sweet Pop, (as all the grandkids called him), had a different approach… a loving and compassionate approach. This dear, sweet man would simply take me in his arms and hold me… Never saying a word, he would just hold me… in a space that always felt safe.

That always worked. That always stopped the tears. Somehow, he understood some things that no one else did… First, he understood that my tears were not a reflection on him. He didn’t need to feel any kind of way about my tears. He didn’t need to be embarrassed or annoyed. My tears were not about him.

Second, he knew that nothing he said was going to be of any real help, but his actions could make all the difference in the world. All I needed in those moments was a safe space to feel all those things that were too overwhelming to be processed so quickly. He understood that there was a safe comfort to be found in his arms, and he was willing to offer that whenever needed… What an amazing blessing!

When I was in my late teens, though, Pop died… My safe space was gone.

At that time, I had just married my first husband, so one might assume he would have taken on that role of being my safe space. However, as I’ve written before, that entire marriage was not safe… Instead of being a source of comfort and safety, his behavior was usually the cause of the tears… and chaos… and hurt.

Thankfully, a short time after the end of that marriage, I met Bruce – dear, sweet, gentle Bruce… My gentle giant. Once again, whenever I found myself with tears in my eyes and in need of comfort and compassion, Bruce would take me in his arms, and just like Pop all those years ago, he simply held me. I can’t even begin to describe the comfort and safety I always felt in his arms. No matter the reason for my tears, he never judged, or told me to stop crying. He never shushed me or walked away. He never shamed me or threatened me. He simply sat with me and held me… What a gift!

Once again, I knew what it was like to receive comfort and love from someone else in my moments of pain and hurt… Then, suddenly, he was gone, too.

Once again, I found myself alone… And that is where I have been since that terrible night 11 years ago. In the beginning of this journey, that was devastating. There was the pain and grief of losing Bruce… and I felt so alone. I didn’t know how to ask for the comfort that I needed so badly.

I cried and I cried… I cried a lot.

Of course, there were a lot of people who were uncomfortable with all those tears. There were a lot of people who either stayed away or tried to convince me to stop crying and move on – not understanding that grief isn’t that simple.

At the same time, there were those around me who knew… who understood. These loving angels sat with me… they held me… they cried with me… they remembered with me… they grieved with me. They brought me comfort in a way that I could not do on my own.

I think there are times when we all need that… We not only need to cry and process the pain, but we also need others to sit with us and share that pain. It may sound crazy, but there is a comfort in knowing that we are not alone, especially when our world has been decimated.

So… to all the angels in my life who have shared my tears and my pain… who have sat with me as I cried and held me in your arms – Thank you! That is not a simple task, and I am eternally grateful for your loving spirit.

And… to all those out there still shedding tears of grief, it’s not only okay to cry, but also healthy to cry… Don’t let anyone shame you or talk you out of expressing your feelings this way… Those are outdated misconceptions on their part. *

Instead, take comfort in knowing that, “Crying is also essential to resolve grief when waves of tears periodically come over us after we experience a loss. Tears help us process the loss so we can keep living with open hearts” **… And isn’t THAT the goal? … To continue living and to do it with an open heart?

* “A study performed at the University of Florida found that crying is more effective than any antidepressant on the market. A good cry improved the mood of 88.8% of weepers with only 8.4% reporting that crying made them feel worse.” ~ Martha Creek, Martha’s Pearls: A Spiritual Approach to Life

** Martha Creek, Martha’s Pearls: A Spiritual Approach to Life

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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.

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

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

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

Peace, Love, and Grief… Some Weeks Are Just That Way

I think one of the worst parts of grief is that you just never know what to expect… So many times, I think I am doing great… I am fine. Then, suddenly, I’m not…

I sit in the sun, enjoying its warmth.
On the horizon, I can see the ever-present clouds –
The darkness of a storm
That can hit at any moment.
Somedays it stays on the horizon,
Present, but not a threat.
Other days, it blows in –
Shutting out the sun
And attacking my very soul.

I never know from what direction the wind will blow.
Will it blow and keep the storm away?
Or
Will it blow the storm directly in my path?
I never know moment to moment
Where it will be,
But I always know it is there…
Somewhere…
~ Linda, 2015

This week, the wind blew that storm directly into my heart… It has been an unquestionably rough week… I can’t explain it, and I have absolutely no idea what triggered it. This wave of grief just seemed to come out of nowhere… All week I have tried to push it down and keep moving forward. However, because I don’t know where it came from, it has been a true struggle to get out from under it. I have cried every night… and most days… Simply put – the only thing I know is that I just miss him.

This week
I have missed you,
And
I have remembered you.

I have cried for you,
And
I have danced with you.

I am tired of hurting,
But
I’m not tired of loving you.
~ Linda, 2021

It seems so silly doesn’t it? Why am I in this position? It has been well over eight years. Yet, this week my heart feels as broken as it did that first night. Until this week, it had been a long time since I wondered this house searching for… what? Him? I know he isn’t here…

Life moves on.
Time passes
But my heart stands still.
Lost in a space
Where I can still hear your voice,
Where your smile still greets mine.
Frozen in this space
Where you should be…
But you aren’t.
~ Linda, 2020

The only difference between then and now is the expectations I allow to be placed on myself. I keep thinking “smile, Linda” no one needs to see your tears or hear you cry. I keep trying to distract myself with other things… other people. I keep smiling at the world in an attempt to force myself to feel something other than this…

Push those feelings down.
It’s been too long…
Don’t talk about it!

Push them down!

Why can’t you let him go?
What’s wrong with you?
Is this normal?

Push those feelings down!
Push them down!

… And when you come up for air…
Be sure you are smiling.
~ Linda, 2019

This week, I wanted nothing more than to just melt inside myself – to stay inside and ignore the world. However, I knew for me that would be the worst thing I could do. So, each day I made myself get outside – sometimes I went for a walk (and made myself say hello to my neighbors); other times I rested on the porch and watched the neighborhood children play or tried to ground myself in the nature around me. There definitely was some comfort to be found out there. However, my heart and mind were not so easily soothed… It seems like each time something made me smile, all I could think about was the idea that Bruce was no longer here to share in all the simple things that at one time brought us so much joy…

I can’t believe you are no longer here…
… No longer looking at the 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 an experience.
… No longer a part of this world.
… No longer a part of my world.
Will this ever feel normal?
~ Linda, 2017

Each week I try to present an honest look at my journey as a widow… to share some tidbit – something I have learned (if possible), and something positive, because that is more a reflection of who I am (or who I try to be). I don’t know about this week… The tears are still streaming down my face even as I write this. I just don’t feel like I have much to offer this week, except the honesty of where I find myself. I’m just in a hard place… I know I will be okay, but right now, the one thing I want in this world is the one thing I can’t have… and my heart is completely broken…

They lie…
Time heals nothing.
It still hurts…
And I don’t know how to make it stop.

I’ve learned to smile at the world.
I’ve learned to push the hurt down,
And say, “I’m fine.”
But
It still hurts.

I have learned to laugh again.
I have learned to find joy in quiet moments
Spent with those I love.
But
It still hurts.

I think it will probably always hurt…
Simply because you aren’t here.
~ Linda, 2018

Sometimes I can’t breathe for the pain of it.
Other times I smile
And laugh at the thought of our memories.
You were always that way…
Making me smile or laugh
When I wanted to cry…
When the pain was so bad.

Now my heart hurts…
Truly, physically hurts with the missing of you.

I feel your soul.
I know you are here.
But I need to see your eyes and your smile,
Feel the comfort of your arms.
I want to breathe in your presence
And feel your love in all these things.
But that isn’t to be…
All I have are the memories,
The memories of our love…
And…
Sometimes I can’t breathe for the pain of it.
~ Linda, 2013

Thank you for not leaving me alone this week… Thank you for giving me a safe place to vocalize my feelings – whatever they may be. I have said it before, and I will say it again – this is not an easy path. It is not a path I ever saw myself on. You probably didn’t either. I don’t think any of us want to be here. Yet, 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 am figuring it out, I find I haven’t. 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 alone 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 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… It’s Complicated

“But Meredith saw the grief in her sister’s bottle green eyes. It was like too much water in a glass, spilling over.” ~ Kristin Hannah, Winter Garden

Just sitting here this morning, waiting for this crazy storm to roll in, and the tears come… rolling down my cheek unchecked. All I can think about is Bruce… And how much I miss him… maybe I should say “still miss him.” But it doesn’t matter how I say it, it is what it is. Granted, it is different than it used to be, but it is still here. It is still a “thing” for me.

When it first started, it was like the beginning of the movie, The Wizard of Oz. The world had no color… It was all just black and white, and I was running from the storm… Running for my life away from this thing that threatened to take my sanity… Running from the grief that I did not want to be a part of my life.

But I couldn’t outrun it, and there was no where safe to land. It felt like I was left out in the storm, fighting to find a safe place to lay my head… Looking for some strong arms to hold me… Someone safe to tell me it would all be okay… But there were no strong arms, and it wasn’t okay.

At some point, grief completely overwhelmed me. It took over every thought and every action. With every breath, I thought about Bruce, his death, and what kind of future lay ahead with him… my future all alone. I think at this point, I embraced the grief… I believe I would even say, it consumed me. If I was breathing, I was crying. Day and night looked and felt the same – hopeless… pointless. There was nothing but darkness to my world, and I was lost.

“I know about losin’ people, Nina. I know how it sits inside you like battery acid, burnin’ through. And I know about runnin’ from it.” ~ Kristin Hannah, Winter Garden

Eventually, the light started to slowly creep back in… I can remember the first time I actually laughed. It was completely inappropriate – or so I thought. How could laughter, smiles or joy ever be a part of my world again? I remember feeling so guilty… As if my joy for one moment was some type of betrayal to Bruce and his memory. (Never mind, that joy was infused in every memory of him.) Somehow, I had adopted the idea that I no longer deserved a life that included such emotions. Grief was sadness… overwhelming sadness, and if that were how I felt, how could I ever feel joy? It was a murky path, and I didn’t know how to navigate it.

As time passed, I grew less intimidated by my own emotions. I not only learned to accept my different emotions, I learned how to “manage” them… I learned to let myself feel everything I felt… I started “allowing” myself to live my life again… To go out with friends, to laugh, to play, and to celebrate. As I learned to accept all of this and meet my grief head on, the color finally started to come back into my world. I learned to accept that there would be good days and bad… Days of tears and sadness and days of joy and laughter.

But here is where I also learned another thing… I learned to hide my grief. I began to understand how uncomfortable it made everyone around me. I recognized that my grief was impacting those I loved, and it wasn’t good. I realized that I had to put it away… For their sake, I needed to find a different way to live with this grief that was ever-present in my world.

At this point, I can say that my relationship with grief “is complicated.” It is complex at times and simple at other times. There is a comfort in my grief because it is how I feel… It is honest and raw. There is also a discomfort in my grief… A loss of control. There are times when I embrace it, and other times when I try to reject it. There is also a part of me that feels like I would be judged if anyone knew its true depths. In other words, the fact that it is ongoing is both a challenge and a comfort.

I don’t know why it is still there. I don’t know why I still find comfort in the moments spent crying for and missing this man. Perhaps, it is because my grief is the last connection I have to this man I love…

“Do you know how hard it is for me to hold my tears inside? I lost someone special and it is so very hard for me every day. I may look strong, I may have you fooled, but what you didn’t realize is that I fight each day to be this way. So please have patience with me. I will never be the same person I once was. Just know that I am trying to be the best I can be, for today…” ~ facebook.com/heavengarden.angel

This grief journey can be a hard one, and it is different for everyone… Some days are easier than others and some days are harder. The many ways we experience grief are as diverse as we are, and we all move through it at our own pace and in our own way… We are all different, and just doing the best we can in a world that can feel overwhelming at times. What about you? How has your grief journey changed through the months or years? Would you like to share your story or ask a question? Do you need a helping hand or even a virtual hug? Let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. *

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Are You Still Crying?

“People think I have survived your leaving. What they don’t understand is that I have to relearn how to survive each day. Because each day you’re still gone.” ~ Unknown

I came across this quote a few weeks ago, and I can’t seem to let it go… The truth within it keeps it playing over and over in my mind. Last week I touched on this when I said that most people who have met me in the last few years aren’t even aware of mine and Bruce’s relationship. Oh, they know I was married, and they know his name was Bruce… But the relationship? They have no clue what that was like or how I was back then… They have no idea how hard losing him has been, or how I have changed since he died.

In their mind, (and I believe in most people’s minds) I have survived this loss, and life has moved on… But honestly, it hasn’t. In fact, I believe most people would be surprised to know I still hurt, and I still cry. Sure, I have learned to laugh and enjoy life again. However, that is because I have learned to push the sadness back. I learned to keep my emotions to myself. If and when I need to cry, I do that when I am alone… Even my closest friends and family rarely see that side of me.

Is that the best thing to do? Keep it in? I don’t know. Probably not, but I can’t live my whole life sad and crying. I want to enjoy my life… So, for now, I have to put those emotions up on a shelf most of the time so I can smile and live and appreciate all the people around me. However, even though I am ignoring them, I still know those emotions are there. The pain of his loss is still very real. I still wake up every morning and am reminded that Bruce is gone, and I am here… alone. Some days that is harder to handle than others… I don’t know why… It just is.

I also know it’s not healthy or realistic to hold that inside all the time. I know I need to get those emotions out every now and then, even if that means finding some space alone and letting myself cry. It’s not an everyday thing or even every week thing, but there are still times when the emotions bubble over, and I know…

These last few months have been stressful, and the past few weeks even more so. I would give anything to have Bruce here. He exuded confidence and strength… Just being in his presence made me feel safe and secure. I have missed that. I haven’t really let myself cry though… not a big “let it all out” kind of cry… Not yet. I’ve shed a tear or two here and there. I’ve looked at his picture and wished more than anything he were here. I’ve talked to him and asked him to watch over us… To let me know he is around (and he does).

That being said, I know the “big” cry is coming. I can feel it… I need it. For the past few weeks, I have found myself just wanting to let go… Needing to let go… Resenting myself for holding it in and needing to give myself permission to give in and let it out. It is reaching the point where I would do anything to feel better… even cry.

Life moves on.
Time passes.
But my heart stands still.
Lost in a space
Where I can still hear your voice:
Where your smile still greets mine;
Frozen in this space
Where you should be…
But you aren’t.
~ Linda, January 2020

These past few weeks have been a hard for all of us… Not just for me, but for this nation as a whole. We have all had to dig deep and decide what we stand for… Which means it has also been a week of questions and insecurities… For me, that is one of many triggers for missing Bruce. But I also know that we all have known pain and we all need to be heard and understood. What are your triggers? How are you dealing with the deep emotions all around us these days? What do you need us to hear today? What do you need us to understand? We would love to hear your story and share a virtual hug. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or even a virtual hug, let us know… we are here for you. To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. * 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

* 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… Triggers

Isn’t it funny how there are some things that just trigger those feelings of grief? Do you know what I am talking about?… Those feelings of “Oh my gosh, I really miss you today.” It’s strange, I know… For goodness sake, it’s been years! How in the world do those overwhelming feelings still manage to take over every rational thought in my head? I wish I had an answer, but I don’t know… They just do.

I know those triggers aren’t the same for all of us… Shoot, even for me, those triggers can change from time to time.

Sometimes it is a song on the radio… There are mornings when I turn on the radio and “our” song is playing. Three or four notes into the intro can find me blubbering like a baby. It makes me crazy… I love to hear it – that song holds so many precious memories within those few minutes. Yet, almost every time it comes on, I cry, because for a few moments I am thrown back to a time when Bruce and I were inseparable. Then, just as suddenly, I am back to reality… a life without the man I love.

Other times, the trigger can be a simple comment made by someone else. Usually it is someone who didn’t know me back then… Someone who doesn’t connect my life now to someone who watched her husband die in her arms. So, a comment gets made about what they would or wouldn’t do if they lost their spouse, or a judgement is made about someone who is currently grieving a loss.

I know they have no idea what they are talking about… I know they are speaking from a place of un-knowing. They have no idea what that kind of loss is like or how they will respond… So, while on the inside I want to scream and tell them what they don’t know – what they can’t know – and how lucky they are not to know… But I don’t… Instead, I just bite my tongue – saying nothing, or if the tears do fill my eyes, I turn away and busy myself with something outside the conversation. I learned long ago, there are some things in life that can’t be understood until you are smack dab in the middle of it, so there is really no point in trying to explain.

Another one that can take my breath away, is when I see someone who from the back looks so much like Bruce. Maybe it is their build, or the way they move, but there is something that catches my eye and for a moment my heart soars. Or… when I am driving down the road and either spot a car just like his or a truck like the one he used to drive. While logically I know it isn’t him – it can’t be… Yet, I still do a double take every time. Hoping against hope to see that grin and tell-tell baseball cap. What if it is him? What if this really is all just a bad dream, and I am finally waking up? But of course, it isn’t him… it never is. It is only a reminder of him… A reminder that he was here, but no more… And the disappointment that follows is always a struggle.

This week, the trigger was one that comes from within… It wasn’t a song or a conversation or a someone’s similarities or a car… Nope, it was all internal… It was all me… and these are usually the ones that hurt the worse. It is something so silly, I am almost too embarrassed to even say it… But I managed to get my feelings hurt. (Sounds five years old, doesn’t it?) But it is what happened, and I am talking about it because I know we all get our feelings hurt sometimes.

The thing is when Bruce was alive and someone hurt my feelings, I knew he was going to be there for me to lean on. All I had to do was look at him, and he knew. Then, without a moment’s hesitation, he would gather me in his arms and hold me. He would stroke my hair and tell me it was all going to be okay. And the funny thing was, he had a way of always making me feel like it really was going to be okay… It was us (together) against anything that might try to hurt us. I never felt like I was on my own. I always knew without a doubt that he had my back… and his arms were a safe place to land… always… every time… But not anymore.

Instead, when my world turned dark this week, I was left feeling so absolutely alone. More than anything, I needed to feel his arms around me… I needed to hear him whisper that we were in this together, and it was all going to be okay. I needed him… But he was (and is) the one thing I couldn’t have. So… I cried… I cried because I was hurt and the situation is one where I just have to let it go… I can’t say anything or do anything to make it better… And I was hurting because the one person I needed in this moment, can’t be here… Instead, I am alone.

Yes, I have friends and people who care… and I am eternally greatly for each and every one. However, there are some spaces that only Bruce can fill… But that isn’t to be. So instead, I let myself cry… Then I took a breath (and a glass of wine) and pushed forward… If there is one thing I have learned, it is the fact that wallowing in that sadness will not help… Instead, I need to let it go… I also need to remember that I shouldn’t take things personally. When someone is being hurtful, it is really about them – not me… (Bruce used to remind me of that all the time.)

Today, I am fine… Actually, I was fine by the next morning. It was just another hard moment in time that has passed. It was just another trigger that reminded me it’s okay to feel what I feel… It’s okay to miss him and grieve for him…. However, after that, I need to move on and be strong…

And I’m pretty sure that is what Bruce would want, as well…

This is my story this week, but this is our community… a place to share our experiences. How about you? What are your triggers? How do you get past them? How do you handle them? Would you be willing to share your story or your thoughts… Who knows… your words may hold the answer for someone else. To share your story or thoughts, please go to the comments and leave a note, comment or question.

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… There is No Fixing It

Tomorrow is a day of love for everyone… but me.
My love is gone…
~ Linda, February 2016

Well, it is that time of year again… That time when everything around us screams “love” and “romance”… The words and images are everywhere… but my love is gone, and my heart is broken. How do I fix this?

For the past few Valentine’s, I managed to avoid as much of the Valentine’s celebration as I could. I avoided the card aisle in the stores, the floral departments and shops, and (because I don’t watch much TV) the commercials. I suppose it is a dance of sorts, but it has worked for the most part.

This year, however, there is no avoiding it. With my grandson here, he has been planning for weeks what to do for his Mom, his classmates and his teachers. So, this year, there has been no avoiding anything Valentine’s… In fact, for weeks we have been shopping the very aisles I would normally try to avoid.

In some ways, it’s okay – I don’t mind… It makes me smile to see his excitement as he picks out gifts and cards. I have even laughed a few times while trying to reign him in when he wants to buy everything labeled “love” because he wants his Mom to “have the best Valentine’s Day ever.” At the same time, I look at the romantic images, and tears fill my eyes. How do I fix this?

It is still so hard… It has been four long years, but I am constantly finding my love for Bruce has not diminished at all…

My pain is here and
Always will be…
There is no end to our love
And there is no end to the pain.
~ Linda, January 2015

This week, my Face Book “On This Day” feature has included posts from our last trip to Key West together. It was Bruce’s last Valentine’s gift to me. (Although, we didn’t know it at the time.) It was such a wonderful weekend, and those pictures and posts hold precious memories. But every day when I look at them, my heart sinks with reality, and the tears fill my eyes… I miss him… I miss us… How do I fix this?

My heart struggles to reconcile itself with
What my mind knows is real.
~ Linda, October 2013

A few times I have tried to talk about it… I have tried to reach out, but I struggle. In the beginning and even now, when I try to share what I am feeling, I find most people want to “fix” it. They mean well, and as a Mom, I get it… I want to fix things when the people around me hurt, too.

But some things can’t be fixed… This cannot be fixed… But God, how I wish it could!

I’m trying to be brave…
But I don’t feel brave.
I don’t want to face tomorrow.
I don’t want to wake up alone.
I don’t want another day without you.
I am so thankful for the memories…
I just wish they weren’t memories…
I wish they were now.
~ Linda, February 2015

What I really need on days like this is someone who is willing to simply be with me… Someone who won’t lecture or deny… Someone who won’t shame or avoid… Someone who doesn’t need to say anything… Someone who is willing to simply stay beside me and share the load when it gets heavier than I can handle alone, even if it is only for a little while.

I know… That is a lot to ask. It really is. I understand in today’s fast-paced world, most of us want to give answers and move on… But grief doesn’t have an answer… There is no fixing it… It is a journey of tears, courage and growth… It is a process – faster for some; slower for others. And… While some parts are best handled alone, there are other parts which require help.

At what point do I get used to this?
At what point does this feel normal?
Will life always feel like it is only half lived?
~ Linda, July 2015

I know I will figure this out… I know I will be okay… I know I need to spend some time in quiet meditation, and some time reaching out to those who love me. I know there is no fixing it, but there is a balance… a balance that can provide some peace for a broken heart.

There is a peace that comes with acceptance;
And a love that is always remembered.
~ Linda, September 2013

For many of us, the week ahead is a hard week. Learning how to survive this time of year alone is hard… It can bring up memories, tears and conflicting emotions. If any of this sounds familiar, there are many of us here with you… you are not alone. If you have found a positive way through this, would you be willing to share your story or thoughts? To do so, go to the comments and leave 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… Decorating and grief

Note: Just moments before posting my blog last week, we had a “milk meets computer” incident. Thank you for your patience as we worked to get back up and running this week.

For anyone grieving, the holidays are tough… They just are. I wish I could share some great “tricks” to help you through this time, but honestly, there are none.

The first year, (as I’ve told you before), I completely ignored the holiday. I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t do it. There were some who tried to push the holiday on me by inviting me over to surprise me with their decorations and music… That didn’t work. In fact, it only upset me more. There were others who tried the guilt approach by reminding me that the holiday is based on faith, and is not about me or Bruce at all. While true, it is still a holiday with traditions built around those we love, so this didn’t work either. In fact, it actually just made me question my faith.

The bottom line was – I wasn’t ready. Grief is one of those things that is different for everyone. We each need to go at it in our own way… and in our own time. While I knew this in my gut, it was difficult to express it in such a way that others could understand.

The next year was slightly different… I felt braver… I wanted to participate in Christmas. I remember…

Journal Entry – Dec 2, 2014
“Hi Babe… feeling down… really struggling and missing you. Yesterday was okay – good actually… Until I started some Christmas decorating last night. : ( I thought I was ready. I thought I would be okay, but it broke me. I didn’t do Christmas last year, so this is my first time unpacking this stuff since you died. And since this box represents our last few weeks together, the memories are bittersweet and the tears seem to be endless. All I managed to get out were two nativity sets, the light brick and the stocking holders. (What am I going to do with those?) Hang one stocking? Do I hang yours? I don’t know what to do there… What do I do? I cried myself to sleep and woke up still crying. I’m not very good at this whole widow/grief thing. I can’t seem to just “move on.” I still love and miss you so much! How can this be my life? How can you be gone? How does someone with so much love and life just cease to exist? I don’t think I will ever understand this.”

“I keep remembering how much you loved Christmas – all the decorations and the music… your big ole grin when you watched me decorate or when you put on the Christmas music; your big smile that first Christmas when you laid on your belly in the snow to cut down the tree my youngest had picked; how much you loved all the treats and how excited you got about getting me the “perfect” gift. You loved the fact that this season was all about family and that was what you celebrated. When we were in Michigan, your folks would be there for the whole month and we would spend as much time as possible with them. This was also the time we would spend a week with my family back home. All that is gone now… It was you, Babe. You brought the magic to our lives and now you’re gone. Now I don’t know what to do. I’m so lost… I thought I could do this, but now… I don’t know.”

It was hard that year, but I figured it out – I did hang both stockings. Beside Bruce’s, I placed a small box of paper and a pen. I used these to write down special memories of our Christmases together, and placed these in his stocking.

For me, this really helped. In fact, this has become my tradition. It means a lot to me to see his stocking still hanging there beside mine. In fact, I think it is the most active stocking hanging there.

Each year since Bruce passed has brought challenges of their own. It is always a moment by moment holiday – half survival… half celebration.

This year, however, has brought a new grief to the picture…

This year I have been blessed with a house full, as one of my daughters and my grandson now live with me. Last weekend we managed to set up the stockings, the Christmas china, several nativity sets, the Christmas village, and the tree with lights (but no decorations). It has been a festive week filled with laughter and music.

I’ve loved it. However, I’ve still had my private moments of tears… Of overwhelming memories and those moments when I know he would have loved spending this holiday with his little Boudreaux. For me this seems to always result in tears and missing Bruce down to my very core.

This weekend as we started to decorate the tree, grief reared its head again, but this time it was my grandson’s grief. As we pulled out ornaments, he wanted to hear the stories behind each one. He smiled and laughed and hung them on the tree… so excited. Until…

About halfway through the box, he pulled out an ornament with three snowmen – a Mommy, a Daddy and a baby – and under each one were their names… Just last Christmas, they had still been a family. As he held the ornament in his hands, his eyes filled with tears. Then, still clutching the ornament, he threw himself into his mother’s arms and wept.

He has only recently come to realize that divorce is forever… This has been a hard fact for him to accept. In fact, I believe he has only just started the real grief for the loss of his family as he knew it… And just like anyone grieving, he has a mix of emotions, which can be overwhelming for a little boy, especially at a moment like this.

On this particular night we held him and listened… simply listened as he cried and told us how he felt.

Then he asked if he could still hang that ornament because he loved the way it reminded him of his “old” family. I thought of Bruce’s stocking hanging just a few feet away for the very same reason… Then, my daughter and I looked at each other and without hesitation agreed.

In the days since that night, he has taken that ornament down, held it, cried and rehung it several times. It is his way of grieving this holiday… and just as I learned with my own grief…

We all have to go at it in our own way and in our own time… I still need to hang Bruce’s stocking and my grandson needs to hold an ornament… and that’s okay.

If you are struggling this holiday season, please be kind to yourself. Do what you feel is right for you… and simply let the rest go.

If you are struggling with celebrating the holidays after your loss, please let us all be there for you. If you have any ideas that have helped you through the holidays, please share them here for others. This is our community… Let’s reach out and be the compassion we each seek.

To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Never good at goodbye

“All I could think about was how you were taken away
and now our house…
our space was going to be taken too.”
~ Linda, Oct 2016

From our first goodbye to this past weekend, I have never been good at saying goodbye to Bruce… And I’m not sure I ever will…

Bruce and I met on a small sailing schooner in the Virgin Islands. We had a beautiful week in paradise and seemed to connect from the moment we met. On the last night of the cruise, reality sunk in, (aka – I got scared), and I told him it wasn’t going anywhere… I said my first goodbye. Then I cried the whole way home. I couldn’t do it. Inside I knew I was walking away from the best thing that had ever happened to me. I knew “goodbye” was not what I really wanted.

My first goodbye and already, I knew I couldn’t do it.

As soon as I arrived back home, I emailed Bruce and asked if he could forgive me enough to at least be friends. Six weeks later, we both knew it was a lot more than a friendship… This was going to be forever.

On my first trip to Michigan, I remember seeing his smiling face as I hurried down the passageway in the airport to the best hug (and kiss) ever! It was a wonderful weekend… like something out of a fairy tale. However, the idea of leaving and saying goodbye, started the flow of silent tears from the moment I awoke on the last day… and as I looked at Bruce, I caught him wiping his own eyes more than a few times. At the airport, we both sat silently holding on to each until the last possible moment… Yes, we were that couple. Then, once again, I found myself crying quietly on a dark plane all the way home.

Our second goodbye, and again, I knew this was the part of our relationship I hated.

The next few months found us taking turns flying back and forth between Michigan and South Carolina. Each trip started with the same total joy of being together again and ended with the same complete sadness at saying goodbye.

During the summer of that year, we planned for me to go to Michigan so we could spend those months together. Since I was driving (and in order to spend as much time together as possible), Bruce flew to SC and drove back up with me. At the end of the summer, the idea of goodbye was overwhelming for both of us. As we rode back to SC, we both got more and more quiet the further south we drove. The idea of another tear filled goodbye was even harder after so many months of being together.

It seemed like the stronger our relationship, the deeper our love and the harder it was to say goodbye.

I remember after several months, Bruce’s Dad asked us how long we thought we could keep this up… How long until we quit saying goodbye and got married? I will always remember Bruce’s answer… “Until it gets so hard to say goodbye, we just can’t do it anymore.” Prophetically, that ended up being our reality less then six weeks later.

Once that decision was made, things moved fast. Within less than a month plans were made for a move to Michigan and a small, quiet wedding. The weekend before the move, Bruce flew down to help with last minute move preparations. It was an exciting weekend for both of us, knowing that the endless cycle of “goodbyes” would soon be over. It’s funny, but even then… even knowing that we were about to be together for the rest of forever, it was still hard to say goodbye at the end of the weekend… Even knowing we would see each other in just a few short days, neither of us could say goodbye without tears.

For the next few years, Bruce and I rarely spent a night apart. In fact, even saying goodbye on workday mornings resulted in long hugs. How in the world were we to know how short this time together would be… and a final goodbye would come all to soon?

But it did come… in a breath… in the middle of the night… Bruce’s heart stopped and nothing I (or anyone else) could do would bring him back. I remember being allowed to stay with him until the Medical Examiner came to pick him up. I remember touching his face, holding his hand, kissing his forehead… knowing it would be the last time.

When the time finally came, with tears pouring down my face, I said goodbye… for the last time.

However, as most of you know from reading this blog, accepting the idea that that was really our final goodbye has been a struggle for me. I find myself, even now 3+ years later, still half-expecting him to walk back through our door… I still feel his presence next to me… And I still find myself “talking” to him. (I know it probably sounds crazy… unless you have been where I am.)

Up until this past week, I thought I had said all of my goodbyes to Bruce.

However, as one family out of thousands living on the Florida Atlantic coast, we were facing a category 4 Hurricane Matthew. In Florida, the only mandatory evacuations were on the barrier islands… However, even our area was expecting a 9 -11 foot storm surge, so we made the decision to evacuate as well.

So after hauling everything from the yard and porches into the garage and putting up the hurricane shutters, I found myself face to face with another goodbye… Goodbye to our home… The space Bruce and I had shared… It seemed so unreal. I had already lost the man I love… the man who still owns my heart… and now I had to face the fact that this space we had shared, might very well be taken too. It seemed so wrong. As we loaded the cars and headed west, I held onto Bruce’s jacket (one of the few things I chose to bring along) and cried.

Once again, even though I thought I had made so much progress, I found I was still no good at saying goodbye.

But, God is good… three days later, we returned to find not a thing wrong with our home. The landscaping needed some work and everything needed to be put back in its place, but we were spared… We were blessed…

And… I have learned that I may never be good at saying goodbye to Bruce… and maybe that’s okay.

Note: I would like to thank each of you for your prayers and good thoughts over the last week as my family and I dealt with Hurricane Matthew.

What about you? Did you (or do you) struggle with saying goodbye after your loss? How do you handle it? Or do you still need support in that area? Would you be willing to share your story or your thoughts?

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Don’t cry…

Don’t cry… Most of us have heard this all our lives. As a child when a favorite toy was lost… “Don’t cry.” When a pet was lost or your best friend moved… “Don’t cry.” As a teen, when your first love broke your heart… “Don’t cry.” And even as an adult when life throws you a curve ball… “Don’t cry.”

Don’t get me wrong… For the most part, I don’t remember hearing this in a reprimanding tone. It was always said gently and with love. It is a “normal” response, I suppose, when someone is crying. But, honestly, did it ever stop your tears? … Because it never stopped mine.

In fact, this week while watching TV, I heard a mother consoling her adult daughter with those exact words… and it made me think… Why? Why not cry? Why is it so wrong to cry as a response to hurt and loss? Why do we do that to each other?

I remember when Bruce died, people were patient with my tears for a little while… a very little while. After just a few short weeks, I started hearing the words “don’t cry” a lot. Most of the time it was said gently, and I knew it was meant to console. However, there were others who, I believe, were simply uncomfortable with the tears… or truly felt that it was downright wrong to cry. I heard it stated so many ways, such as:

“Don’t cry. You’re not the only one to ever lose someone.”
“Don’t cry. If you have faith, you should believe he’s in a better place.”
“Don’t cry. You can choose to feel better or have a better attitude.”
“Don’t cry in the office or in public. It looks weak.”
“Don’t cry. Be strong.”
“Don’t cry. What will others think?”

Good grief! What will others think? Wouldn’t they think I am sad because my husband died? Is that so bad?

If you listen closely to each of these reasons not to cry, shame is at the core. Which makes me wonder why shame become the tool used to dispel grief? What a crazy place this is when we believe there a time limit to tears of grief, and anything beyond that “limit” is wrong. Research has shown us that it is unhealthy to avoid or deny our grief. Yet, society still charges down the “be tough or be shamed” path.

I understand that my tears and grief may make some people uncomfortable, but maybe that is not my responsibility. Maybe that discomfort is created because in our culture most of us have never learned how to deal with grief. Instead. it is treated like a taboo topic… something that is definitely expected up to a point as ling as we don’t get carried away. If one grieves “too long,” shame will begin to seep into the picture.

Honestly, I have been frustrated for a long time with the reality of pushing my feelings down deep in order to make others more comfortable. However, it wasn’t until these last few weeks that I finally realized this shame aspect and how efficiently it works.

My first realization happened with my grandson. We were having a simple conversation about his day when suddenly he burst into tears about a recent loss that cuts deep into his core. We were in the car, and there wasn’t a lot I could do in the moment. As I reached out to hand him a tissue, I ALMOST said it… “Don’t cry, Baby. It will be okay.” But as the thoughts were forming in my mind, I stopped.

No… That was not what I wanted to say, nor what I wanted him to take away from our encounter. Instead, I told him, “It’s okay to cry, Baby. I know it hurts. You go ahead and cry… I’m here with you.” He’s only 7 so the tears didn’t last very long. Hopefully, however, he will remember that his feelings are valid, and it is okay to grieve his loss. As for me, all I could think was how I wished more people had allowed me that small bit of space… space to cry and grieve for a few moments when the pain of my loss crossed my heart.

My second (and more eye opening) realization came a day or two later. I was having one of “THOSE” days… One of those days when I missed Bruce beyond words. One of those days when the pain and grief felt all new and fresh, as if it had happened just yesterday. A day when I would have given my soul for just one more hug… one more smile. .. one more moment.

Yet as sad as I felt, I got up, got dressed and forced a smile to my face as I walked into my office. Only those closest to me could tell something was “off,” and only one or two actually knew what it was. As the day progressed and my mood started cycling lower and lower, I found myself shoving my emotions further and further down and trying to smile that much more. “Don’t let them see your pain today,” I thought. “Don’t cry.”

And I didn’t… Instead, I waited until I was alone in my car heading home… I waited until I felt “safe.” However, when I finally gave myself “permission” to cry, I found I couldn’t… not really. I was sad and I needed to work through all that stuff I had been shoving down all day, but somehow I still couldn’t allow myself to let go. Instead, I was talking myself out of it.

What if someone called and could hear it in my voice? What if someone saw me?
Then it hit me….Oh my gosh! I had let the shame behind all those “don’t cry’s” become so accepted and ingrained, I was doing it to myself! That was nuts! Good heavens! What shame is there in grieving? I know better! I know all those “don’t cry’s” are wrong. Instead, of “don’t cry,” we need to say…

“Go ahead and cry. This hurts… You’re the only one to ever lose this person in this time.”
“Go ahead and cry. Faith has nothing to do with it. God will hold you and comfort you. He understands your pain.”
“Go ahead and cry. You can choose your attitude, and today it is perfectly okay to choose feeling sad. You can choose to feel better or have a better attitude another day or another time.”
“Go ahead and cry in the office. It is not weak… It is honest and vulnerable… That takes real courage.”
“Go ahead and cry. That takes real strength.”
“Go ahead and cry. Who cares what others may think?”

This lesson has taken me a while, but I have finally realized that it takes more strength and courage to be honest about my grief than to hide it. There may even be a lot of people who will disagree… But I would bet most of them have never walked one step (much less a mile) in my moccasins (as the saying goes).

So… If there is one thing I have learned from all of this “don’t cry” business, it is this…

It is okay and normal to express grief with tears. It takes courage and strength to lay it out there for the world with no apologies. So… if you ever find yourself consoling someone or being consoled, drop the “don’t.” Instead,…

Go ahead and cry…

What about you? Did anyone ever tell you “don’t cry?” Are you still struggling with the shame of grieving past society’s “approved time limit?” Do you need support in that area? Or would you be willing to share your story or your thoughts?

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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Facing another anniversary and I still remember…

I thought we had forever…
I never knew we were counting down
from the day we met.
~ Linda, Sept. 26, 2013

As I approach this weekend, I find myself in tears. I have fought it all week, but now it is time to let myself feel what I feel.

On Tuesday, January 12, it will be 3 years… Three years since my worse nightmare came true…

January 11, 2013 was a Friday. It will be forever ingrained in my mind. I got home late, and Bruce was even later. As a truck driver, he often worked 12 – 14 hour days. However, given his occupation, we were both thankful that he was a “local” driver and home every night.

That Friday he had left for work around 5 AM and returned home around 8 PM. I had already eaten, (Chicken Lo Mein, which I still do not eat to this day), but I sat with him as he ate the dinner he had picked up on his way home. We talked about the upcoming weekend and what we wanted to do… go to the beach, use the kayaks, or go out on the boat… It really didn’t matter as long as we were together and near the water.

I remember Bruce laughing and saying, “Whatever we do is fine with me… We could just see where the day takes us.”

That night we did our usual bedtime routine, kissed goodnight and snuggled up to sleep in each other’s arms. A few short hours later, it happened… I woke up around 1 AM to a strange noise. Bruce sounded like he was snoring but more than that… like he was having trouble breathing. I remember shaking him and shouting, “Wake up, Babe. You’re dreaming. Wake up.”

But he didn’t wake up. Instead, he seized up and then stopped breathing.

“No!” I thought. “This can’t be. This must be a dream. This can’t really be happening.” It was all so surreal.

I remember calling 911. I remember talking to the 911 operator, while trying to get dressed, unlock the door for the EMS crew, struggling to put something solid under Bruce so I could perform CPR, counting while doing compressions and the EMS team arriving. I remember watching as they continued the CPR, used the “paddles,” injected him with an epi-pen directly into his heart. I remember the line on the monitor staying flat no matter what they tried. I remember standing to the side watching all of that… and I remember thinking repeatedly, “This can’t be real. This isn’t happening. I need to wake up. I need to make this dream stop.”

But I wasn’t dreaming. Instead, it was all just the beginning of an absolute nightmare.

I remember a pastor coming in to “console” me and saying, “Just think of it as someone hit the ‘delete’ button on Bruce.” I remember that same pastor and the police officer, who had driven me to the hospital, talking about football over my head as I cried. There I was crying and lost because my husband had just died in my arms, and they were talking about a football game. I remember wanting them to leave but not knowing how to tell them.

I remember the nurse handing me Bruce’s wedding band “for safe keeping.” I remember being allowed some time to “say good-by.” I remember stroking his hair and his cheeks. I remember thinking he was going to open his eyes at any minute and say, “Gotcha.” But he didn’t. Instead, I remember squeezing his toes as I left the room, something I had always done when I walked past his lounger at home… and I remember kissing his cheek and saying, “I love you, babe. I will always love you… and until I see you again – Good-by.”

I remember the ride home in the same police car and thinking, “I’m alone… From now on, I will always be alone.” I wasn’t crying at that point… I was in such shock. I remember making phone calls (at 3:30 in the morning). I remember Bruce’s Mom crying out in pain and disbelief when I told her. Calls like that one are permanently fixed in my memory, while I do not even remember making others. However, I do remember the shock in each voice as I relayed the news that Bruce… My Bruce was dead. He was gone.

I couldn’t even begin to imagine at that point what that really meant.

I remember cleaning the house because everyone would be coming. I remember trying to clean the bed where he had died. I remember making lists, although I don’t remember what they were. Most of all, I remember thinking, “This can’t be real. This space… this house is ours. You can’t be gone! Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me here alone!”

But it was real… he was gone… I was alone.

I have spent 3 years (on Tuesday) coming to terms with that reality. Some days are better than others. I am working on my perspective and attitude. I know that what I choose to see in life is what I will see. However, I won’t lie. It is hard. I make myself get up each morning and say “thank you” for a new day. However, I also will be thankful when the time comes, and I am with Bruce again. (Not trying to upset anyone or insinuate anything – just an honest widow’s statement.)

So what will I do on Tuesday? Well, this will be my first year facing this anniversary by myself. I won’t say alone because there are a lot of people also grieving for Bruce. There are also a lot of people who have offered their support if I need them, and for that I am endlessly thankful.

My plan for Tuesday is similar to last year, and I am sure I will share it next week. But for today… tonight… and probably the next few days, I will be reliving our last few days together (especially that night) over and over…

and still wishing this was just a very bad dream…

and still praying I will wake up with Bruce next to me… holding me…

the way I remember.

Each morning I awaken
And I am reminded all over
That you are gone.
I call out to you…
Sometimes in only a whisper.
And I still feel your soul respond to mine…
~ Linda, March 22, 2015

For anyone dealing with loss, the anniversary of that loss is something we must endure year after year. I don’t know if it ever gets easier. So far, for me it is still just as painful… the tears and grief, just as strong.

Would you be willing to 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