Tag: things change

Peace, Love and Grief… Things Do Change (Over Time)

Earlier this week, someone close to my heart sent me an article written by someone recently widowed. The accuracy of it was absolutely heartbreaking. To be suddenly taken back to those early days and all of the raw feelings and emotions… Well, I caught myself crying halfway through the first paragraph.

There were several situations that he wrote about that touched my heart so deeply that I wanted to about them here… Maybe just to say, “Don’t give up. While it doesn’t completely go away, it does get better… It just takes a while.”

One of the first things the author wrote about was the new title we are given, “widower” in his case, “widow” in mine. It feels like such an awful word at first. I can remember the exact moment when I realized it now belonged to me… It was just a week of so after Bruce died, and I was in the drugstore picking up cosmetics (or shampoo or something equally mundane). In the aisle ahead of me, I saw two elderly women walking together and talking. To myself I thought, “They’re probably widows… out together. That is what a widow looks like.” Then I caught a glimpse of my own reflection in a glass case as I passed, and realized, “No… That is what a widow looks like.” Then, as the tears started to roll down my cheeks, I said out loud to myself, “You are a widow.”

That led to the writer’s next thought, which was all about “losing who you are. Just as he portrayed it – you go to bed one night as “you” (part of a two-some). Then in a breath everything changes… Suddenly, you wake up and half of “you” is just gone. It feels impossible to find your footing when your whole world has changed. Suddenly this person who knew you inside and out, who shared your world and slept by your side day in, and day out is gone… vanished…

I know for me, there were so many days those first few years when the pain was so bad my chest literally hurt… So often I sat on the floor in the middle of our home – cursing God while at the same time begging him to let me wake up from this horrible nightmare!

But… time has passed… More than eight years actually, and with the passage of time my world has taken on a new form… No, not one I would have chosen for myself, but one I have learned to lived within. For example, …

The word “widow” … I don’t mind saying I’m a widow these days. In fact, I actually use it a lot. Sometimes it is my “security blanket” with the rest of the world… It says so much to the world that I don’t have the energy (nor do I want) to explain. For example, when I buy something for my home, I am often asked if they should be talking to my husband or will I need assistance with installation? Usually, I just look at them and say, “I’m a widow,” and those comments end right there. That’s it. I don’t have to explain a thing… For me, it’s kind of nice not needing to say anything more.

Then, there is the “losing who you are” piece of the situation. Yes… you do. There’s no avoiding it. However, after a while (perhaps a long while), you find out who you are all on your own… You might even find you like yourself and want to know yourself better. I still miss Bruce, and being alone has its challenges, but over all I have learned to be content with myself… And that is something I have sought after my whole life. So, while I lost who I was… I am learning to be happy with who I am… And I have chosen to make that a good thing… Although it has taken me a long time to get here.

Bottom line – I miss Bruce. I hate that he is gone. He changed my world and continues to do so every day. Because of him, I have had the tools I needed to survive this journey (so far). I have come to learn that this journey has a lesson built into every step and every breath. Thank you for the opportunity to share those with you. For all of us, it is easy to feel like this journey is nothing more than a very lonely path, especially since it is so different for each of us. Yet, our love for those we have lost is something we all share. Sharing our stories is 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… Things Change

I dance with you in my mind.
You hold me next to you.
I feel your heartbeat and the strength of your arms.
As the music plays,
We move gently and gracefully as one.
Then, it ends with a kiss
As I wish for one more dance.

I laugh with you in my dreams.
I see your sweet smile
And you kind and gentle eyes.
I hear you start to chuckle.
Your smile grows.
Then you wink at me
As I wish for more laughter.

I make love to you in my heart.
I feel your strength and your gentleness.
Your compassion and love flow into me
With every touch and each sweet kiss.
We become one in that moment.
Then I lay in your arms
As you hold me close,
Gently kissing my lips, my eyes, and my fingertips.
As I wish for one more loving moment with you.

One more dance,
One more laugh,
One more chance to love you.
Then I realize these are always deep within me…
~ Linda, Sept 2013

I believe that looking for our loved ones after they are gone is normal. Every corner we turn, every call we answer, there is a part of us that expects to find them there… at least in the beginning. Yes, we know they are gone. But for many of us, the life they left behind just stopped… In the beginning it felt as if everything were just on pause as we waited for their return.

The year Bruce died, there was a song that was at the top of the country music charts, “I Drive Your Truck.” It was a song about loss and the absence of someone loved… And the attempt, after they are gone, to find them in the things they owned… like their truck.

Every time that song came on, the tears and emotions would come gushing… I could relate to many phrases in that song. There was one phrase that captured my anger and confusion… Two simple lines that let me know I wasn’t alone in my reaction to losing Bruce.

“I’ve cussed, I’ve prayed, I’ve said goodbye
Shook my fist and asked God why.” *

But the main thing about that song was the way it completely captured my feelings when I climbed into his truck… I kept that truck for quite a while after he died. The two of us (the truck and I) had a kind of love-hate relationship. On the one hand, every time I turned the corner and saw his truck in the driveway, there was a part of me that thrilled with the initial thought, “Bruce is home!” Then, just as suddenly, reality would hit me and I knew he wasn’t there at all… I just hadn’t brought myself to the point of being able to sell his truck yet. (That was the “hate” part.)

Then there was the reason I didn’t want to sell it yet… I loved driving it!

It took me a couple of weeks before I ventured out to the driveway, with his keys in my hand. I can remember climbing into the driver’s seat and just sitting there for a moment… Sitting in the seat where it fit him, feeling the place on the arm rest where his arm had left a dent from years of resting there… looking at all the things he left sitting there, waiting for him to return – his sunglasses, a pipe cleaner sculpture his daughter had made as a child, his favorite CDs, his cooler, a stack of red solo cups, and a bottle of water. Then, as soon as I turned the key, the music started…

“I leave that radio playing
Same old country station where you left it
Yeah, man I crank it up” *

The CD with the last songs he had listened to continued to play as I put on his sunglasses, put the truck into gear and left the driveway. I had no idea where I was going. I just knew that wherever it was, I wanted to get there in his truck. I don’t remember everywhere I went that day, but I know I drove all over our little town and out to the beach with the music blaring and the tears running down my cheeks.

“I drive your truck
I roll every window down and I burn up
Every back road in this town
I find a field, I tear it up
Till all the pain’s a cloud of dust
Yeah, sometimes I drive your truck.” *

After that, driving his truck became my weekend ritual… my way of trying to find him somewhere… anywhere… Somewhere in that truck and on those roads, I always felt like some part of him was there too, and in those moments, maybe I wasn’t so completely alone.

It took a long time, but I finally came to the decision that I couldn’t keep his truck forever. It didn’t make any sense… I needed to let it go. Lovingly, a sweet friend from work bought it. She didn’t need it; she already had a great car. But I know she bought it for me… As soon as we signed all the right papers, I remember she turned to me and said, “Whenever you need to sit in it, you tell me. I’ll drive it to work, just for you, and you can sit in it anytime… And she was good to her word… I only remember asking a time or two, but she was beyond gracious to me.

That was years ago, and I haven’t heard or thought about that song in years… Until yesterday.

As I was driving my grandson and I to a special, “just us” lunch, “I Drive Your Truck” came on the radio. But things change… and this time, there were no tears. In fact, I found myself smiling ear to ear, just remembering those many weekends spent driving his truck… How precious that time spent in his truck was to me… All those days spent finding some kind of peace in those moments… a healing that I didn’t even realize had begun… Yet a peace that was born out of simply driving his truck and feeling his presence within that small space that had been his.

* I Drive Your Truck – Recorded by Lee Brice; written by Jimmy Yeary, Connie Harrington and Jessi Alexander

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yCSMCgqlc-0

This grief journey is a crazy ride that I never signed up for. While we can hold each other up, we know it is different for everyone… Some days are easier and some days are harder. Sometimes we can smile at the memories and other days the tears won’t seem to stop. 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 just doing the best we can in a world that doesn’t always understand us.

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

* 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.