triggers – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love, and Grief… Triggers

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

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

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

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

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

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

So… many… triggers!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And finally…

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

Honestly, I don’t think the triggers will ever stop being a thing. I also believe that time does help me manage those triggers better and better. For example, in the beginning, I had to wear sunglasses almost everywhere I went so people couldn’t see that I was crying. Now, I am pretty good at pushing the tears back, (or keeping them to a minimum), and moving on… waiting to contemplate whatever trigger happened later when I am alone to write it out and/or think it through. I can’t say dealing with triggers gets any easier with time, but I do think over time I am learning to work through them in a much more healthy way… which is a step in the right direction.
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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. Learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. This year, my goal is to simply ‘be’… Be me, be kind, be compassionate, be loving, be hopeful… to just ‘be’ and to be comfortable with that… however it looks.

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

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

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Peace, Love, and Grief… Deja Vu

Grief triggers are the worst! You know what I mean. Those little things that catch us unaware, and with no warning, we find ourselves plunging backwards in time to a space where we are once again raw and lost in our grief. It can be a song, a smell, someone body movements that are all too familiar… Anything can be trigger… It is like a sudden experience of déjà vu where you feel literally transported back to another time.

I have these occurrences happen to me at least two to three times a year – give or take… I think the hardest part is that you really aren’t prepared for it… So, keeping your emotions under control and not completely falling apart, is (for me) the hardest part of the challenge. For the first few years after Bruce died, I didn’t really worry about falling apart. I let myself feel what I felt. However, for the last few years, I understand that almost a decade has passed since I lost my love. I am even more aware of how others may be under the impression that I should be past all of that. Therefore, the tolerance is extremely limited… I know… I (kind of) get it… At the same time, they are wrong.

Granted, I am better at thinking about other things and pretending all is well… But for the most part, it is just that – pretending. Here, I can be honest and say that it still hurts. My heart is still raw and broken… And this week I was reminded once again, just how raw and broken it still is…

Let me back up just a little bit… Over six weeks ago, my son had an accident and ended up with a metal plate and several screws to hold him together. Despite living on his own since he was 18, he has needed to live with me for help and support as he recovers. It has been a long road for him, but he has been doing everything he is supposed to do in order to be independent again as soon as possible. His hope was to be able to move back to his place later this month after his follow-up.

Life, however, doesn’t always follow our plans. Through no fault of his own, the surgical site became inflamed, and we found ourselves heading to the local ER at 5 o’clock in the morning. This was not the hospital where he had his surgery nor is his doctor anywhere close by. However, we weren’t too worried about all of that. We both assumed they would clean it, re-stitch it, and let him go with some antibiotics…

As I was turning into the hospital parking lot, it was dark and almost empty… Then, it dawned on me that the last time I been to this ER was with Bruce on the awful night so many years ago. I have written about that night several times in the past… It was an awful experience… and suddenly, here I was walking through those awful doors once again.

I took a deep breath as I parked the car and walked inside.

This time, though, rather than being immediately directed to the “Consultation” room, which is evidently reserved for those whose loved ones arrive to the ER already dead (as in my experience with Bruce), we were asked to simply sit and wait in the lobby… Okay… so far, so good.

I took another deep breath and busied myself helping my son fill out the necessary paperwork. Before I knew it, we were called back to an exam room. I immediately got up and followed my son and the gentleman pushing him. As we walked through those double doors, there on the right was the “room” – that damn Consultation Room. That place where I sat in unbelief for what seemed like hours waiting for someone to tell me something… anything… where I sat while a doctor told me that my Bruce was gone… where I sat in shock while the police officer and hospital staffer assigned to “console” me actually ignored me and talked about the upcoming Super Bowl game.

This was a room I never wanted to see again. As we walked past it, all the things I have tried to push back into the darkest corners of my memory popped back into the forefront of my thoughts. I immediately, turned my eyes back to my son. “Think of him,” I told myself. “He is the one who needs you right now. You don’t have time to think about all that… not now… You can do that later.”

Then, in the next moment, I realized where we were headed… We were walking into the exact same exam room where Bruce had been… Where I had spent what felt like both an eternity and a single moment in time, with Bruce’s body… Touching him, stroking his hair, begging him to wake up…

I know Bruce died in our home, in our bed… in the space where I am each and every day. (It’s strange, but I actually find comfort there.) Yet, this space where I found myself – this exam room was the space where I had to accept that he was gone… where I had to actually say my goodbyes. This is the space where my world collapsed around me (and has never fully recovered).

This space was one of those triggers I was talking about… One of those triggers that you aren’t expecting and can’t avoid. While we sat in that room waiting, I didn’t quite know what to do with myself. I couldn’t lose it. I couldn’t fall apart. I was there to be the strong one… to be my son’s voice and advocate. I had to hold it together no matter what. So… I paced. I sat. I found myself talking about anything and everything – just not about the last time I was there.

After five very, long hours, my son was admitted and moved to a room – not what we had expected. (In fact, at this point the experience for my son went quickly downhill. However, that is not my story and does not belong here.) I, on the other hand, found myself going back home to grab some items we would each need for we thought was ahead.

While the ride home is less than ten minutes, it felt like an eternity. But I was driving. I couldn’t fall apart (yet). I need to hang on, just a little… bit… more. I can’t begin to tell you the relief I felt as I walked through my own door, into our space… a space where I am safe to feel what I feel, where the tears could flow without any eyes to judge me or make me feel ridiculous… A space where I constantly feel Bruce’s presence and comfort. This was the moment I could finally let myself feel all those emotions.

This week has been a long one – filled with long hours, exhaustion, and frustration over sub-standard care. I have learned that while my grief still hurts, I am stronger than I think… Also, I have been reminded (once again) about the preciousness of life and how quickly our world can change…

I say it every week… Loss is hard, and the grief we are left to figure out is even harder. But this is a journey where I am continuously learning about life, faith, and love. There have been some great life lessons on this journey, but I hate that losing Bruce is how I got here. After all, I didn’t ask to be here… I didn’t ask for any of this. As the years pass, I can honestly say that there are more good days than bad as I learn those things that seem to bring me a little bit of healing each day. Through it all, though, I still find myself wishing for a world where Bruce is here beside me. So, I will continue to allow myself the space I need to heal and process this life without him. Thankfully, at this point in my journey, I am learning that I am not alone – thanks to you!

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

Peace, Love and Grief… 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… The Hardest Time of Day

I am alone… all alone.
No longer is there someone to listen at the end of a bad day.
No longer are there arms to hug me;
Or lips to kiss away the hurt.
No longer is there someone to say,
“I love you, and that’s all we need.”
All that greets me is silence,
Emptiness,
And my own thoughts.
~ Linda, September 2013

Here is the question, “What is the hardest time of day for you?” I was doing some reading about grief this week, when that question came up. As I sat and pondered it for a while, I realized that the answer has been an ever changing one for me.

When Bruce first died, any time I was awake was hard. Sleep was the only thing that gave me any relief from the pain of losing him. I was so numb and in shock that I didn’t quite know what to do with myself. Sometimes, I would just sit and stare at the walls for hours, while other times I would find myself wandering through our house looking for… what? I can’t tell you. He wasn’t there… I knew he wasn’t there. I was alone… I was all alone.

After a few weeks, I returned to work. I needed life to return to some kind normalcy. I also knew if I stayed home alone any longer, I might never be able to pull myself out of the dark hole I found myself in. It was at that point that the evenings became the hardest time of day for me.

Because Bruce had never been to my office. He had never been inside that space… Nor was he involved in that part of my day. So, that space felt somewhat normal. Since he had never been there, there was no expectation that I would miss him there. (I hope that makes since.)

However, the minute I turned the corner onto our street, I would see his SUV still parked in the driveway. My heart would leap a little, as I immediately thought, “Bruce is home!” Then, just as quickly, I would remember… And my heart would fall to pieces.

By the time I walked inside, the tears were streaming down my face. So many times, I would walk inside, collapse in the middle of the living room floor, and just cry… Where was he?! Why?? Why did this have to be? I couldn’t comprehend it. It was awful… And it was day after day.

Without you, this house is so quiet it is deafening.
Even the thoughts in my own head can’t drown out the quiet.
It is always here – waiting to swallow my sanity.
~ Linda, November 2013

But, as we know, life is ever changing… Like the waves on the beach, nothing stays the same. As for my life, it changed again a few years ago when my daughter and grandson moved in. No more deafening quiet… No more lonely evenings… Instead, once again, this house was full of noise and laughter and love. It was great! It changed everything about my world. It probably sounds crazy, but for the first time in a long time, I felt like I had a purpose again. It was absolutely refreshing!

Does that mean I know longer have “hard times?” Of course not! It just isn’t the central focus of every moment. My heart is still broken, and I still miss Bruce. However, my hardest time of the day now seems to be that time when I turn out the lights at the end of the day. There is something about lying there in the dark – alone. That is the time my mind turns to him. That is the time I will quietly talk to him… Wishing he were still here to listen… and answer… Wishing he could still hold me tight as we fall asleep… In other words, I find myself wishing for those things I know will never be.

Sometimes I wonder if I will ever stop grieving completely… I doubt it. When Bruce left, there was a huge hole left in my soul. I have worked hard over the years to patch it up… I have made a conscious (daily) effort at healing. Yet, deep down, I still miss him. And I believe that as long as I have moments alone, I will always have a “hardest part of my day.”

I wake up,
And I reach for you,
But you aren’t there.
I long to feel your warm body
Next to mine.
In my sleep, I try to snuggle closer,
But there is only empty space.
Each time, I am pulled out of my dreams.
Then, I am awake
With nothing but the realization
That you are gone.
How long will is this going to go on?
Will my soul
Ever be content to sleep alone?
Will my heart
Always reach out for you in the dark?
… Probably.
~ Linda, July 2018

How about you? What is your hardest time of the day? Or what are your triggers? Would you be willing to share with us, please? Would you tell us your story? This path can be a hard and lonely one, but none of us need to do it alone. We are all here for each other. We all have stories to share. Because this is our community, please feel free to share your thoughts and experiences, too. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.* Who knows… you may hold 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

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

Peace, Love and Grief… Grief Attacks

As I wrote last week, the holidays create so many mixed emotions. There are so many things about this time of year which I wish I could help those around me understand. Yet, I believe for them to understand, they would have to experience a loss like mine… (And that is something I would never wish on anyone.)

I know I am incredibly blessed to have so many loving family and friends. At the same time, there will always be a piece of my heart that is missing – an emptiness created when Bruce died. At this point, I believe I do a pretty good job putting a smile on my face and moving forward…

Except when I can’t…

Do you know what I’m talking about? I’m talking about those moments when the sadness and grief are completely overwhelming… The tears insist on coming no matter how hard I try to keep them in… These are the moments I now call Grief Attacks. *

Grief Attacks can be triggered by all kinds of things. Sometimes they are triggered by obvious things such sweet memories or songs which arouse those feelings of longing and loss. Other times, it may be the glimpse of someone who looks similar (and causes a double take)… or has similar mannerisms… or a truck like his… or the smell of his cologne.

One of the biggest triggers for me, however, seems to be when I am feeling completely overwhelmed… when life throws me a curve ball which I now have to now handle alone. When Bruce was here, I never had to handle these moments alone. Even if it was only the sanctuary of his arms, I always knew he was there for me. No matter how hurt I felt, I never felt alone… I always knew he was there. So, when those moments hit, all I want is the comfort of Bruce’s arms… The very thing I cannot have.

Now, let’s be honest… Sometimes during the holidays – during this season of joy and family – life gets overwhelming. It’s no one’s fault. There is just a lot going on, and our emotions are charged. This has always been… It is not anything new because Bruce is gone. The difference is not having him to lean on.

Yes, I know, we are supposed to be strong on our own… I get that and for the most part, I am. But, we all need someone else every now and then. For me, Bruce was that person, and I was his. Now, though, I am on this road alone. And when things feel overwhelming, I feel like a child… Bruce is who I want… Bruce is who I need… But Bruce is the one person who cannot help me, and so the grief attacks come…

This is awkward enough during the normal parts of the year. Family and friends try to understand and give me the space I need, even if they don’t quite understand where this sudden burst of grief came from. During the holidays, though, I think it is harder for others to understand. After all, it is a time of celebration… a time of love and family.

This weekend while celebrating a family wedding, one of those moments hit me (again). I was fine during the wedding. You would think that would have been a trigger. However, I smiled with joy watching these two young people declare their love for each other. The reception was also a blast. I laughed and danced with friends, my daughters and my grandson.

The grief attack came when the lights dimmed further, the music slowed, and the older couples braved the dance floor. As I stood there watching so many couples dancing as they gazed into each others’ eyes and whispered things which brought smiles and light kisses, the tears started flowing of their own accord. In that moment, my longing for Bruce and the love we shared left me feeling completely overwhelmed. Luckily, it didn’t last any longer than the song… As the couples left the floor, I was able to reign it back in before anyone else seemed to notice… Thank goodness!

From what I understand, these attacks have nothing to do with time… They are likely to continue indefinitely… And now that I know they are “normal,” I’m not as concerned about trying to explain myself to anyone else.

Besides, I am still at a total loss on how to explain these to anyone else. How do I help them understand that this is just a part of the whole journey? Yes, I may have been “fine” a few moments ago. Yes, I love the people around me. Yes, I know it has been a long time and in a lot of people’s minds I should be over it. But in these moments, I need the one person who will never be by my side again… I need Bruce, and no one else can fill that void.

* Grief Attacks is a term I learned while listening to Dr. Bill Webster’s series on Understanding Grief.

Happy New Year to our virtual group. Please know my thoughts and prayers are for all of us as we begin another year without our loved ones by our side. Our support for each other always touches my heart, and I feel close to you through the experiences we share. We are all dealing with some extremely intense, emotional stuff, and none of us needs to handle this alone. Learning to navigate this journey is different for each of us. It brings its individual challenges and lessons. Through it we come to realize we are stronger than we thought we were. If any of this feels familiar, we are here, you are not alone. 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. *

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… Then and Now… Now and Then

I remember when this whole grief thing started… I was such an emotional wreck! At the support group I joined, I remember the leader talking about all the different emotions we were experiencing… or soon would…. And she was right… Life quickly became an emotional roller coaster that seemed to have no end.

I believe I felt every emotion under the sun, and the craziest part was any particular emotion could hit at any time… any place… and sometimes several at a time.

Journal Entry, August 15, 2013:

This grief thing can make you feel like you are losing your mind. One day (or moment) can be fine and you think you are getting it together and the next can be so dark. I am really struggling…

Sometimes there was no rhyme or reason to what I felt… I just felt it. Other times, the emotions could be triggered by something familiar, such as his SUV in the driveway, his clothes still hanging in the closet or a semi on the highway (similar to the one he drove). Other times just seeing other couples our age (or older) together (holding hands) or seeing someone with mannerisms similar to his could bring on tears… In other words, it could be any thing at any time… I just never knew.

As a consequence, I started wearing sunglasses on my head everywhere I went… Why? Because when the tears started, the glasses came down to cover my eyes (even in the middle of the grocery store).

For the longest time, I thought that would be the way I would live forever… but it isn’t. I’m not sure where along the way I felt safe without the sunglasses… a little more in control of my emotions. But eventually, I found myself leaving the glasses behind and (at least for the most part) controlling the tears in public.

However, I can’t say that control is a 100% thing… There are still moments where I am caught off guard and the tears come of their own accord. For example, this week was a good week. However, on Friday as I was leaving my martial arts class, I needed to talk to the instructor for a moment. As I glanced outside, I caught a brief glimpse of someone that looked just like Bruce. Even though I knew it wasn’t Bruce, it still caught me by surprise, and suddenly I found my eyes filling with tears.

To give myself time to regain control, I started “searching” in my gear bag (for absolutely nothing). While my head was down, someone else walked up to speak to the instructor. (Thankfully!) And, in their interaction something was said that made me laugh… (I don’t know if I have ever been so thankful for laughter before that moment.) At that point, I was able to regain some semblance of control, lift my head, thank them for the laugh and move on.

So this week, even after all these years, I came to realize that I am still vulnerable to “those” moments… I know, without a doubt, this journey is a long one… And while I need others to walk beside me, the hard work is still mine to do, as I wrote years ago…

Journal Entry, August 29, 2014:

“Widowhood is the long learning to do without the presence of the loved one. It is a task demanding the utmost patience, and a willingness to look, again and again, at those paths and places where the loved one walked, sat, lived, and slept, and does so no more.” ~ Martha Hickman, Healing After Loss

Me: So much of the time I feel so alone on this journey… so out of sync with everyone else around me… this quote explains the why so well. It is my journey and no one can do it for me… So please, be patient with me…

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

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