Tag: trying to understand

Peace, Love, and Grief… Looking for a Reason

Several weeks ago, my friends and I were chatting about a news article… (a pretty normal occurrence). While I don’t remember the specific details of the article, I do remember that a man had died (much too young) and (without knowing the exact cause of death) his spouse had started suing multiple people – just looking for someone… anyone to blame. At first the conversation was all about “what is she thinking”… “She doesn’t even know why he died yet.”

While that might be true, I still felt like I knew exactly what she was thinking… or at least pretty close… because I remember being in those shoes…

To say it was a shock when Bruce died would be an understatement. He was such a health-conscious person. He (for the most part) watched what he ate. He worked out regularly at the local gym. He was always researching supplements and vitamins – and trying those that seemed like they might improve his health in some way. He had a yearly physical on top of the ones required by his job.

In other words, he really did look after his health… He even inspired me to do a better job of being healthy.

In the weeks before he died, we had been out biking on the trails and kayaking in the canals and creeks. In the hours before he died, we had had a lengthy discussion about what we wanted to do that weekend… with kayaking the clear favorite endeavor. We snuggled in the bed that night as we fell asleep… All felt right in my world… I was so happy… So content… To think that he would be dead in less than six hours never crossed my mind… but that is exactly what happened.

After he died, I was absolutely drowning in questions. I didn’t understand. I was truly confused. How does this happen? Did someone miss something somewhere? I didn’t get it… It made no sense to me. The hospital told me that it appeared he had a heart attack, but that the medical examiner would do an autopsy and have a better (more clear) answer… It would only take “2 – 3 weeks” both the hospital and funeral director told me.

So, I waited… and I waited. I just wanted an answer… I needed an answer. Why in the world had my seemingly healthy, 52-year-old husband died?

At four weeks, I called… “They are running a little behind,” I was told, “four more weeks at most.” Then, you guessed it, four more weeks… and four more. Yep… it took four months to get our answer… Four excruciating months of not know… not understanding.

During those long months, (years before this blog was started), I would post comments on social media about my frustration at waiting so long and my desperate need for an answer. We all know how that goes, right? Some people offer empathy, others offer advice. There was a lot of compassion, and those people will never know how much that meant to me.

I also remember others telling me to let it go… why did it matter?… how was knowing going to change the ultimate outcome?… and that list of questions went on and on. I am sure that there are people for whom that would be good advice. However, for me, it was just a clue that I couldn’t talk about my grief and anxiety with those people… They are wonderful people, and I know they meant well. Nevertheless, that was not the “advice” I needed at that point.

What I did need was an answer… any answer. And if I am honest, I too wanted to blame somebody… anybody. Surely, a healthy man doesn’t just die in the middle of the night for no reason!

At four months… the evening before his memorial, we finally got an answer. Bruce had some heart issues that had either gone undetected or (as much as I don’t want to admit it) he had ignored. I will never know for sure.

Yet, I do know I am not the only one who still has questions… A couple of years ago, Bruce’s mother requested (and received) a full copy of the ME’s report, and kindly shared it with me. I have spent many hours over the last few years going over it and researching every term to better understand what happened to Bruce.

I don’t know what he knew or what choices (if any) he made. After he died, I found all the paperwork I would need to “legally process” his death in a stack on the counter… Which leads me to believe, he knew something was wrong.

I, also, can’t blame anyone else for decisions or choices he might have made. At the same time, I can’t be mad at him, either. Ultimately, the Medical Examiner told me that the only thing that would have saved Bruce’s life was a heart transplant (before this episode that killed him). Knowing Bruce, I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew that and made the choice not to do it… Obviously, though, I don’t know anything for sure. In fact, I’ll never know… and I have to learn to be okay with that.

I have to be okay with not having anyone to blame, and instead learning to accept his death as a part of his life… a life I was miraculously blessed to be a part of…
______________

This journey isn’t easy… not that you need me to tell you that. Loss is hard, and the grief we are left to figure out is even harder. This crazy journey is where I am continuously learning about life, faith, and love. And while there have been some great life lessons on this journey, I hate that losing Bruce is how I got here. I didn’t ask to be here, and I don’t want to be here… But I am here anyway.

As the years pass, I can honestly say that there are more good days than bad. Each day, I continue to learn more and more about those things that seem to help me heal and move forward. So, I will continue to allow myself the space I need to heal and process this life without my love… without Bruce. Thankfully, at this point in my journey, I am learning that I am not alone – thanks to you!

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

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

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

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Peace, Love and Grief… Why

Some weeks when I sit down to write, I wonder why I am still writing so many years later. In fact, I have had a couple of people ask that same question. Usually, my answer includes something about wanting to share my experience, as well as how therapeutic it is to just write it all down. There is a lot of emotional processing that happens each week as I write. Also, when I started this, I thought that even if it made a difference for just one other person, it was worth it. However, this week I realized it is something more…

Last Spring when everything shut down including the schools, my daughter made the decision to continue her son’s education rather than having him just hanging around, while we continued to work from home. Since we are both former teachers, we felt confident in this endeavor, and it has been a good experience for all of us. In fact, it has been so successful, she has decided to continue homeschooling him for now. But that isn’t my point… I’m getting to that…

The last couple of weeks, he has been reading the book, Wonder, by R.J. Palacio. It is a beautiful story about a 5th grade boy with Treacher Collins syndrome, who is going to school for the first time. (It is great book for teaching empathy and kindness.) Novel discussions have been my area during this process, so I was also reading the book…

At one point in the story, the boy’s faithful dog gets ill and must be put down. My grandson had been reading out on the porch, and when he came back in, it was obvious he was upset. “That was so sad,” he said. “The dog died. I hate that! I hate it when animals die.”

“It is sad,”” I responded. “Did it remind you of when Brutus died last year?”

“It did… That was awful… And when my mice died, and Duffy… and Frogmore.” This poor little boy… With two households and aging pets in both, this has been a rough year for him losing so many pets. It has been emotionally hard, and we have talked about the grief of losing a pet several times this year… And I had a feeling this was going to be another one of those times.

“You know what GG?” he asked. “When something you love dies, it is like being hit with a rock… really hard.”

“Yes, baby… Yes, it is,” I thought. I couldn’t have said it better! The conversation continued from there, until he had talked it out… Until he didn’t have any more to say on the topic… Until the next time when he is somehow reminded of or touched by death again. I know it won’t be the last time. I know another day will come when he will need to talk about it again – about the pain and trying to make sense of the “why.” Because that is what we do… We keep talking about it (or writing about it), until there is a sense of peace or understanding… Then, we do it again as many times as we need to.

“The drive to understand why things happen to us is so strong that the brain will continue to try making sense of an experience until it succeeds.” ~ Daniel Siegal and Tina Payne Bryson, The Whole Brain Child

I think that is why I really continue writing this blog each week. Just like my grandson, my day to day life is filled with all the normal things – laughter, frustration, work, play, family, and friends. Life is good, and I am happy. However, there are still some sad moments. Usually, I just push them down and keep moving forward… Until this time each week. This is the time when I allow myself to reflect on whatever has touched my heart and brought that grief back to the surface. Then, I sit and write about it… again. So, I guess, as much as anything else, I am writing for me… I guess, this is my way of trying to make sense of my own experience… And sharing that with someone else (who is also on this journey) helps.

I don’t know that there is ever an end to grief… I think it just is. It becomes a part of our lives like the scars from past hurts or a limp from an old injury. Sometimes it is maddening, and at other times it is oddly comforting. This grief journey is what it is, and I am just trying to make sense of something that (to me) makes no sense. I know this journey is different for each of us, but I appreciate the messages of support. I love that we can hold each other up, despite our differences and our own grief.

We know that 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

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Peace, Love and Grief… From the Outside Looking In

I always write from the perspective of the person grieving, since that is where I am… That is what I know. This blog is simply meant to be a journal (of sorts) of what this journey has been like for me in the hopes that someone else can relate to it and know they aren’t alone. This week, though, I was reminded of what it was like before I was thrust onto this path… before I was the widow feeling lost in a world of grief… Back when I had no idea what grief was all about…

My first marriage lasted 20 years before I finally left. It was a hard decision, but the aggression and violence were only getting worse. We tried counseling for a while. He was diagnosed with several mental health issues for which there was help, but he refused… So, honestly, I gave up. I had to face reality and come to terms with the fact that I couldn’t take all of the responsibility to make that marriage work. For one reason or another, it still took several more years to get divorced. However, that isn’t what this story is about; it is just to give you a timeline.

Throughout this time, I had been a small-town, parochial schoolteacher. I loved my job – the kids, the families, and the staff. These people had become my family, and I loved them dearly. At one point early in our separation, one of the families in our school experienced a great loss. The family consisted of two sweet, wonderful, loving boys, Mom (who was pregnant), and Dad (who was a doctor). I don’t know their whole story, and it isn’t mine to tell.

All I can say with any certainty is that one day the mother started feeling ill, and before anyone could help, she died. It was sudden, and it was awful! The whole town was devastated. All of us did whatever we could to gather around this family in an effort to love and support them. As the school staff, we circled tight around those two young boys with more love than you could ever imagine.

Move forward a couple of years later, I was in the final months before my divorce would be complete. (We had been in the process for well over three years.) This Dad started calling “simply to talk.” It wasn’t just nice, it was easy conversation. After a few weeks, he asked me out, but my divorce wasn’t final. It was set for the following month, but not yet. So, I explained that I couldn’t and why. (Yes, I know there are a lot of people who won’t get that. I’m not judging anyone else or what they do… Just my own personal convictions.)

So, we made plans to go out one week after my divorce would be final. Things went fine… It was a little bit awkward, but that was no surprise to either of us. It was my first date in over 23 years, and he said it was his first date since his wife died.

I didn’t know enough then to understand what that really meant. At the time, I assumed it meant we were in similar situations… However, I couldn’t have been more wrong. Like most people who have never experienced the loss of a spouse, I had no idea what he was going through. To my mind, being divorced was a lot like being a widow, and I had no clue how wrong I was.

Let me start off by saying he was a nice guy. We tried dating for several months, and there were never any negative feelings between us. I have nothing but the greatest respect for him and his family… I just didn’t understand where he was coming from… and he couldn’t seem to explain it.

We had a good time when we were together, and we went out every few weeks. However, there were so many things in the relationship that I just couldn’t understand. For example, on our second date, we went to a popular restaurant in town. I remember sitting down, ordering drinks, and looking at the menus. Suddenly, he had this panicked look on his face. I asked what was wrong, and he just said we needed to leave. Next thing I knew, he put some money on the table for the drinks, took my hand, and led me out a side door. Once outside, he let go of my hand, made a few comments about seeing some of the people he and his late wife used to hang out with, and how he didn’t feel comfortable. After that night, most (not all) of our dates were either on his boat or out of town.

A few months later, he casually mentioned taking me to a BBQ at a friend’s house on the upcoming Saturday. Saturday came and went, but I never heard a thing. A few days later, he called and (just as casually) explained that he had been too busy helping with the BBQ to come get me.

Yes… I am well aware of how this all looks and sounds. As my friend told me at the time, “he’s just not that into you,” which was true… and that was okay… But there was more to it than that.

First, there were very few people who knew we were dating – one of my best friends (who knew everything that went on in our little town), my kids (who did all the babysitting), his housekeeper, and his kids (who were more than eager to talk about our relationship at school). In all honesty, the privacy issue wasn’t just on him… I was nervous about people finding out I was dating, too. I wasn’t interested in being the center of any small-town gossip, so I wasn’t making any big announcements about it either.

I probably should have had a clearer idea of where he was coming from, but I didn’t. After all, throughout his home were reminders of his late wife – not just pictures. I am referring to mementos – special reminders… The same type of things I have all over my own home to remind me of Bruce.

Plus, we had a lot of conversations about his late wife… There were times when he would try to tell me how it felt and how losing her had torn him apart… How his faith didn’t feel adequate anymore, but he still pushed forward because of his boys. I know he was trying to help me understand where he was coming from… But I just didn’t get it. Honestly, I don’t know that anyone can until they have been there.

Instead, from where I stood, it felt like he was embarrassed to be seen with me… Maybe I just wasn’t “good enough.” Of course, now I know that was my own insecurities speaking… My own issues stemming from an abusive marriage, which I had never opened up about to him.

So, why am I telling you all of this today? Because so many times since Bruce died, I have finally understood where this man was coming from…

Through the years, I have listened to people equate being divorced and being a widow(er) or tell me the I should “get back out there.” If you have read anything I wrote back then, you will know these things left me feeling incensed. How dare anyone tell me what I should and shouldn’t do? And no, being divorced is not the same as losing a spouse to death. (I was very angry back then.)

Now, though… Well… Now I feel differently. I guess, life has mellowed me a bit. Now a days, I know people mean well when they say I should date again. Will I? I don’t know… It’s really not a priority for me. I know better than to say “never,” but “not yet” is probably an accurate answer.

If I do, I imagine I will feel like my friend did years ago. I imagine it will be awkward and strange… And the last thing I will want is everyone else watching and giving me their opinions. Now, I totally understand why he behaved the way he did. He just couldn’t explain it in a way I could understand back then.

As far as equating being divorced with losing a spouse to death, I have been through both. Yes, there are some similarities… Both are hard, and both create a deep grief. However, there are also a lot of differences. For me, the biggest difference is in choices.

In a divorce, one person (or both) makes the choice to leave. However, when a spouse dies, there is rarely any choice in the matter. In my first marriage, my ex made his choices, and I had to make mine. When Bruce died, though, neither of us had any choice at all… In a moment, he was just gone.

In a divorce, at least one spouse (if not both) must come to terms with the idea that the other person didn’t (or couldn’t) love enough to make it work… That is a very hard reality. In fact, when I got divorced, that reality was a real struggle for me. For a long time, I was convinced there was no such thing as love… “happily ever after” was a myth.

On the other hand, when your spouse dies, the love is still there. It is not a switch that can simply be flipped off. That love you felt doesn’t just stop because that person is no longer by your side. If a child or a parent dies, no one expects you to stop loving them. So, why can’t the world understand that same idea when it comes to losing a spouse?

I’m not saying you can’t love again. Of course, you can. I have seen it happen many times and it makes me smile every time. I’m just saying it takes a very special person to understand that the love you had before will still continue. Then, somehow, the two of you will need to find a way to embrace all of that love to make it work.

I guess what I am trying to say is for those of you who have not lost a spouse, be patient with those of us who have. Ask questions if you need to, but listen more… We are trying to explain things in the only ways we are able at the time. Remember, this path is new for us too.

On the other hand, if you are a widow(er), be patient with those looking in. Keep in mind, they have no idea what this path is like. I truly believe they are trying… and I will bet you, they mean well.

One last thought… While I am pretty sure he will never see this, I want to say a special “thank you” to my friend from years ago. At the time, I felt like dating you was a “safe” way to re-enter the dating world. So, I not only thank you for that, but for so much more. You see, I had no idea at the time, but I was learning a lot from you… Things I wish I never needed, but I did. From you, I learned a lot about death and grief… about not giving up and surviving when you don’t think you can. I learned it was okay to question my faith and figure it out my way. And most importantly, I learned that wherever life takes me, it’s okay to take my time and do it my way.

This is my story this week, but this is our community… a place to share our experiences. How about you? Can you remember ever being on the outside looking in? Have you been able to remember what that was like as you ago through your current situation? How do you handle it? 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

* 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… Will We Ever Understand?

When Bruce and I first met, one of the things we had in common was being health conscious. I was a runner. He was into body building. And we were both all about eating healthy. Admittedly, he was better about the eating part than I was… (I love sweets and Publix fried chicken.) However, he wasn’t a big fan of desserts or fried foods. He didn’t drink sodas and rarely had caffeine. (I was a Diet Mt Dew junkie.) Don’t get me wrong, he had his vices like the rest of us, but most of the time, he ate right and was constantly looking for ways to improve.

Early on in our relationship, I learned that he had high blood pressure (and, evidently, had for years). But it didn’t seem to slow him down, and I knew lots of people with HBP. Because of his job, he was required to have a physical every year by the company. Plus, he would have a second one by his own physician, putting him in front of a doctor every six months. To all of us, he appeared to be in great health… And very determined to stay that way.

Because of all that, his death came as quite a shock to all of us!

As for me, I was completely dumbfounded! How in the world does someone so healthy go to bed laughing and just never wake up again? I couldn’t understand it. I remember the ER doctor telling me it appeared that Bruce had suffered a heart attack, but the Medical Examiner would need to do an autopsy to confirm the cause of death.

In my naïve bubble of grief, I thought that would take just a few days… Boy, was I wrong.

I remember lamenting on FB after a month or so that we still had no answer. Some people understood the frustration and were quite encouraging with stories of their own. Then, there were others who sent me private messages telling me to “let it go” … “What difference did it make why he died, the outcome was going to remain the same.”

But, for me, it did matter! I needed to know why… It made no sense. Surely, there would be some hidden reason for his death… Surely, there would be an answer to all my questions.

Four months (and several phone calls later), just days before what would have been his birthday, I received a call from the medical examiner. He explained that Bruce’s heart had been enlarged – “almost twice the size it should have been.” He went on to explain how Bruce’s high blood pressure had contributed to that and how when his heart gave out and stopped that night there was nothing I could have done to save him.

We talked about how I had done CPR, and how in my own eyes, I had failed Bruce. He told me the only way Bruce could have survived would have been to have a heart transplant before his heart stopped. “Once it stopped,” he told me, “it was not going to restart. Nothing could have saved Bruce at that point.”

It was nice to have an answer, but I still found myself with more and more questions. I remember finding paperwork for some heart tests Bruce’s doctor had ordered (and Bruce had never done), but I didn’t really know what else there was to learn. My sister (a nurse) looked at the medications and supplements he was taking at the time, but there was nothing abnormal about those either.

Bruce’s Mom suggested I talk to Bruce’s doctor and see what he would tell me. I was hesitant at first. Bruce was always big on his privacy. He shared what he wanted to share and no more. He did share some things about his doctors’ visits with me, but if I pushed too much for details, he would just get quiet… But he was dead now… Was it really okay for me to ask? It felt like I was prying, but I really wanted to know if his doctor could tell me anything more.

It took me a while, but I finally managed to get the courage to call. The conversation was actually pretty short. Even though he was affiliated with the hospital where Bruce was taken, he had not been notified of Bruce’s death. By this time, it had been well over a year since he had seen Bruce, and he said he didn’t really remember too much about their last visit.

That was it?? … Yep, that was it…

Jump to the more recent past… Bruce’s Mom sent me a note asking if I had a copy of the autopsy report. I didn’t. Then, she asked if I would mind if she requested one. I didn’t mind at all… In fact, I asked her if she would mind sharing it with me when she received it. (I must tell you – she is a doll! She has always been so respectful to me as Bruce’s wife that she even confirmed my approval one more time, before she actually hit “Submit” for her request.)

I don’t know what I expected… I guess I just assumed we would have the same slow response as we did with the initial autopsy answers. I was wrong. The document came back the next day…

That was Thursday. Thankfully, I was home that day, because as I read through the document, the tears began to fall…

While it had a lot of detail in it, I can’t say there was a lot of new information. Except this…

I had to look up a lot of medical terms. As I looked those up, the medical examiner’s initial information made more sense. In fact, as I did more and more research, I learned a lot. I started to realize, we (maybe just me) had missed a lot of the signs that something was wrong.

I’ve always said, I thought Bruce knew something… After doing some research, I am even more convinced he knew something wasn’t right. I won’t say he knew what it was, but I definitely believe he knew something was wrong and his time was limited.

I don’t know how I feel about this report… I guess I had hoped it might bring a little more closure. But instead, I have found myself re-living a lot of those initial questions and feelings. Admittedly, it’s been hard to have all that brought back to the forefront of my mind again. Yet, at the same time, there is some relief to have a better understanding of what happened.

I don’t really know… I’m still trying to process what I know now and deal with this renewed sense of grief… It may be a hard few days ahead… I’m just praying for the strength to see it through and for some sense of peace…

What about you? We all know there will be times when our loved one’s death is front and center again in our lives. How do you handle that? Do you struggle to keep peace in your heart? Do you accept it and just let the tears fall? This journey is hard, but it is even harder to bear alone. I believe we are in this together. We are not alone. 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

* 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… The Gift That is Life

As I lie here thinking of you,
I realize I have been blessed to have had a husband
Whose only expectation was for me to love him;
And whose only goal was to show me how much he loved me.
~ Linda, July 2014

When Bruce died it came as such a shock to me… How does a person go to bed laughing and joking, but not wake up in the morning? How does that work? Months later I learned he died of an enlarged heart. But how is it, no one know about that? His job required a yearly physical… I know he went to the doctor every six months for his blood pressure. The whole thing just didn’t add up… And to be honest, it still doesn’t.

I remember after he died, all the family came. As they were trying to help me through those days, they would ask about this or that document or piece of paperwork… But, I didn’t have to go hunt for any of it… All of it was in a nice, neat pile on the counter… Everything I needed… Everything Bruce knew I would need.

It didn’t take long for the feeling to sink in… The feeling that he must have known… He had to have known… Why else would everything be ready for me? In fact, the more I thought about it, I started to recall times when he would make comments about dying, which I had laughed off… Or forbidden him to say… Had he been trying to bring it up, and I shut it down? Was he trying to open the path for a conversation, and I didn’t get the hint?

At first, it just plain made me angry! How could he have known and not said anything? Why didn’t he allow me to be a part of whatever decision he made about his health? Why didn’t he allow me a last good-by? Why didn’t he tell me, so we could be sure everything was planned and in order? Why did he leave me to tell everyone? Why hadn’t he done that?

I didn’t understand any of it… It was all too much to take in, much less, try to make sense of. As the months passed, I called his doctors and asked what they knew, but I got the same answer each time… “We have nothing on record about an enlarged heart.” (As it turns out, HIPPA laws prevent discussion of the deceased’s records for 50 years.) The most I could find was a lab order for a heart scan and blood work, which appears to have been ignored by Bruce and shoved in the back of his bottom drawer. (So, I know it was a discussion with his doctor.)

As the years passed, my feeling that Bruce knew something has remained just as strong, but my anger eventually gave way to guilt…

I began to feel terrible knowing that Bruce must have carried this knowledge all alone. I couldn’t understand why he didn’t feel he could trust me enough to tell me? He didn’t need to handle it by himself… Why didn’t he let me support him through this?… Why?? What did I do wrong?

No matter how I looked at it, I felt I had let him down. For whatever reason, he felt he had to do this all alone… The guilt over not being there for him was overwhelming at times. People told me to let it go – there was no evidence to prove he knew anything… But I couldn’t. I knew Bruce… And in hindsight, I know what I know… And I know that he knew.

Now, however, my thought process has changed once again. Now instead of feeling guilt, I have moved to a place of understanding.

Over the past year, I have had several friends diagnosed with chronic or fatal illnesses. Each one has handled it in differently. Some have made public announcements on Face Book, while others have kept it quiet and only shared with a few. I am also sure there have been others who have told no one…

So, once again, my feelings have changed… Now I can say, I get it… finally.

Each of us is different, and how we handle those situations is going to be different. So, I have had to take myself out of my own head and put myself in Bruce’s place, and remember who he was as a man…

First, he hated to be the center of attention… Even telling me, would have made him the center of our marriage – something he would not have liked. Second, he believed in living in the moment… whatever it held. If I know Bruce (as I believe I do), he would have wanted life to be as normal as possible for as long as possible. He would have wanted the mundane and the quiet moments as much as the fun and silly moments we shared… He would have wanted the tenderness and love we shared to be real and honest up to the last moment…

And that was exactly what he got…

We laughed and disagreed. We kissed hello and good-by. We spent quiet moments at the beach and danced in the kitchen. I believe his goal was to be sure my memories of “us” were real… and honest… and precious…

Most of all, I believe he never said a word because he wanted me to remember our life together as a gift – each and every moment…

“Suffering and loss have this extraordinary capacity to alert and awaken us to the gift that life is.” ~ Rob Bell

Everyone deals with loss and grief in their own way. For each of us, trying to understand why things happened as they did can be a challenge in and of itself, and our paths are as diverse as the drops of water in the ocean. These are only my thoughts and reactions as I have traveled on this path. Maybe this feels familiar… Perhaps you too have struggled with the “why” of grief. If so, 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. *

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