Grief quotes of the day

Discussion in 'Loss of Spouse' started by Helena Beatriz, Mar 7, 2022.

  1. DEB321

    DEB321 Well-Known Member


    As I just said to Bernadine, I don’t have time to respond, but I agree with the two of you.

    I’ll try to remember to respond when I have some time.

    For now, just sending lots of hugs & love your way, wishing you peace, all of us peace. DEB
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  2. Helena Beatriz

    Helena Beatriz Well-Known Member

  3. Countess Joy

    Countess Joy Well-Known Member

  4. DEB321

    DEB321 Well-Known Member

    Bernadine and Karen,

    I agree with everything both of you said. Grief is a normal response to intense sorrow. It isn't something that can be cured, fixed, stuffed into the dark corners of our minds, never to surface again. There is NO!!! way to get over grief!!! Grief is something we must live with for the rest of our lives. It is a part of us, a part of who we've become. We aren't broken. We can't be fixed. In the very beginning of this miserable journey (for lack of a better word), I didn't understand this. I wanted to believe all the SH*T!!! society was feeding me. Do all the hard work necessary, and you will heal. WTF???!!! Healing isn't possible. If healing was possible, to me, it would mean we would be able to move forward without looking back, without remembering some of the happiest times in our lives, the time we were fortunate enough to have been able to share with our spouses, partners, girlfriends, boyfriends, etc., etc, etc., the one true love of our lives. They helped morph us into the people we are today. They are a part of us. We are a part of them. We can't erase our history. And even if we could, I would NEVER!!! want to erase some of the very happiest moments in my entire life, the moments I was lucky enough to be able to spend with Bob, my "person," the only man I will ever love with all my heart. I'm way beyond grateful to God for the 35 years I got to spend with Bob, my knight in shining armor...

    I think we get used to living alone, to life without our "person" (physically) with us. As Bernadine said, "we adapt to grief." We have to. We don't have a choice!!! Maybe this is what some people mean when they talk about healing from grief. (???) I think there comes a moment for all of us, different for each one of us, maybe it happens gradually for some, more quickly for others, as we get used to living alone, missing the one true love of our lives with all our hearts, but there comes a time when we have one of those light bulb moments, and realize that there is NO!!! way we want to be this miserable for the rest of our lives. Our loved ones wouldn't want us to be this miserable, right up until the moment we're reunited with them for eternity. As I've said from the very beginning, I don't believe God left us on earth just to be miserable. I believe God has a plan, a purpose, for each and every one of us. Once we have completed our purpose, then we will be reunited with the one true love of our lives for eternity.

    As we begin to get used to living alone, gradually we begin to take in all the beauty that surrounds us in nature, all the beauty God created for us to enjoy. We begin to enjoy simple things again, watching the sunrise..., watching the sunset..., watching ocean waves crash along the shore..., smiling when hearing a child's laughter, finding comfort in the little things that we used to take for granted, a hot cup of herbal tea on cold winter's night, a hug from a friend, etc..., etc.., etc...

    My light bulb moment happened the very first time I was able to laugh again, not one of those forced, fake laughs (as I think Karen used to describe them), but a REAL!!! lol moment. It was then that I knew I was going to be okay, NEVER!!! as happy as I was when Bob and I were together, but I knew I could be happy again, even though happiness would always be laced with tears for the rest of my time on earth. Happy mixed with sad, as Robin so perfectly explains it. It SUCKS!!!, but I think this is as good as it's going to get. I'll take happiness laced with tears, a bittersweet existence, with Mr. Grief always lurking in the shadows, ready to strike at any second, without notice, rather than a life filled with only darkness, sorrow, and pain. As Karen said, "In it's ever changing ways grief will always be with us until we are called home."

    Way too exhausted to read this before I post it, so I hope it not only makes sense, but truly expresses how I feel, what I wanted to say. I guess I'll find out tomorrow, lol...

    As always, sending you lots of hugs and love, wishing you peace, all of us peace. DEB
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  5. Countess Joy

    Countess Joy Well-Known Member

    Good morning Deb
    Unless you’re still up
    That is beautifully worded, I think it shows us exactly how you feel.
    Thank you ~B
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  6. Rose69

    Rose69 Well-Known Member

    Oh, Deb, these are sacred words. I always think about how I AM who I am today, thanks to my C, I KNOW what I know thanks to him. So right, he is a part of me, always will be, I actually carry on as if he's still here, talking to him all the time, when making decisions, or handling daily maintenance/repair work. I ask him first : "What do you think we should do?". Then I would have to decide : "oh, yes, he would want this, wouldn't want that.... , no that's not the way to do it, dad says you do this, you do that...., he taught us to do it this way... until I find the right solution". I haven't changed anything about the way me and my children lead our lives, we are able to make decisions based on the knowledge and wisdom we acquired from living our lives with my darling C. I am able to manage to run our house and look after our property because we have learned so much from him.
    When I sold my C's car, sadly, heartbreakingly, the buyer was so happy that he had bought it from our particular family. We had never met before, but he obviously had received a very good impression after meeting and talking to us. Apart from the car that he fell in love with as soon as he saw it, he said that the main reason that had convinced him that this car was the right one for him, and that it was in perfect condition (and it WAS), was the fact that he could trust us, that the car was in perfect condition because he had got the impression that we were good, honest people and had completely understood me when I explained how my C was absolutely impeccable when it came to looking after his cars, always has been, not a scratch, extremely careful, never anything not functioning, a real passion for cars, was always so precise and meticulous, better not go on or I'll be in tears.

    Yes that's me. I find I'm doing that too. I am lucky to live in the countryside with a few acres of private land all around us, and I often just walk about paying particular attention to little things I'd never even noticed before, like a couple of wasps devouring one of our pears on a pear tree, I'll try and send this photo on th Art Therapy thread. This Summer, we've had thunderstorms almost everyday, and I would just stand there, gazing up at the sky, all those incredibile grey/black clouds, the noise of the wind through the trees, watching the storm approaching, endless rolling thunder and lightening, the suspense of waiting, feeling the first drops of rain falling down, it was so breathtaking. I was actually astounded by my reaction, thinking "Wow!", why hadn't I ever noticed that before? "

    Wishing all the best to all my great friends here.

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  7. Countess Joy

    Countess Joy Well-Known Member

  8. cjpines

    cjpines Well-Known Member

  9. cjpines

    cjpines Well-Known Member

    Deb, that was so beautiful, you put emotions into words so well. Thanks for posting your chapter in your book. K
  10. Helena Beatriz

    Helena Beatriz Well-Known Member

  11. Countess Joy

    Countess Joy Well-Known Member

  12. Helena Beatriz

    Helena Beatriz Well-Known Member

    Being here now sounds so lovely, right? It sounds meaningful and magical. The truth, though, is that Now isn't always meaningful and magical. Now isn't always lovely. Now doesn't always hold the life we want, or the life we think we're supposed to have, or the life we wish was ours. Now isn't always the dream. It makes sense why the allure of somewhere else might feel conforting at times. I don't always want to be here now.

    Now does hold reality though, which is what I have been spending decades learning how to actually be with, hold, and tend to. It holds the next right move. It holds the opportunity to notice, to forgive, to breathe, to scream, to paint, to move, to consider, to love. It holds possibility in a way only Now can hold, because everything exists Now - not then, not when things are better, not when we get the job or lose the weight or live in the most majestic forest or have all the stuff we think will make our lives good.

    How easy is it to wait until things are different before we do the thing, or take the next step, or go after what we want, or admit what we don't "want" How often do we put off saying what needs to be said until we're in the perfect circumstances" How often do we put our sense of aliveness into a certain kind of life we don't yet have - one we're waiting around to finally be here, all while forgetting the only life we really have is the one we're currently in?

    I get it. The allure of "better" is appealing. The relief of thinking we'll finally feel a certain way when a certain thing happens is real, and in some ways, true. Thinking of the future as a saviour makes us feel like a load is taken off .- like we can just wait it out and let the future do the saving, rather than take the responsibility into our currenty dry, brittle, tired hands, trusting they'll soften.- that life will soften.

    The tricky part is this: all the time we spend waiting for things to get better before we let ourselves off the hook, before we let ourselves love, before we let ourselves try something new, before we commit to what's good for us, before we do what we want to do, before we stop pretending, before we say the thing begging to be said, before we practice being more kind to ourselves, before we allow contentment to find a home in our bones ... all that waiting takes us away from the life we have, from the place we're in, from the agency only found in this moment. All that time takes our power away from the only place we really have a say, the only place we really have power, the only place we really exist in, which is ... now.

    I say none of this to intend it's easy to be where we are, nor do I say any of this to assume wanting something better is wrong or bad. It isn't - it's Human, and it makes so much sense. We make so much sense. I say this, though, because letting myself just be where I am has been an extraordinary gift. It has been a life raft on choppy water. It has been an outreached hand reminding me to breathe. Letting myself just be where I am, even when where I am doesn't feel so great, has made it a whole lot easier to also be with all the gold, the beauty, the sweetness, the love, and the awe that also exists here, even if I'm alone.

    Something I'm working on right now (more like softening around - not "working" is no longer assuming everything would be better if xyz just hapened. I tend to romanticize other kinds of life - other places - other identities - other ways of living. I've always been this way - perhaps as a way to escape what's real, which ends up making it hard to even find contentment and presence right where I am. And it's extra tender because there are places I'd love to live, and things I'd love to do and trips I'd love to take, and versions of myself I'd love to be that just won't ever happen again I'm alone! The power, though, lies in not letting what will never happen keep me from honoring and witnessing the life and Self I have and am, from doing the things I want to do right here, from being the person I want to be right now.

    There are so many things I long for that may never happen, and there is rain dripping down the window, nourishing the land. There are so many places I'll probably never get to see. There are many things I'll never learn, never do, never become, never feel, and there are my hands on the keyboard, writing what's here, being with what's real, and feeling like it's enough, like it's all there is, like it's everything. I'm not waiting for thing to be different before I notice. I'm not waiting for things to be better before I go to find who lives around my neighborhood
    .. I'm not waiting for things to be more magical, more dreamy, or more perfect before I let myself embrace what is, before I let myself accept this version of me, before I let myself fully live right here, righ now, as I am, as things are.
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  13. Rose69

    Rose69 Well-Known Member

    Sending you a virtual applause, Helena.
    Thank you.

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  14. DEB321

    DEB321 Well-Known Member


    This is so very beautiful!!!, TUTTAM!!! I read it twice already... I want to read it again, but have to get ready for PT.

    I agree with every word you said. You have a gift for being able to express yourself just as beautifully in writing, as you do through your drawings. TGW are so very fortunate to have you, such a very talented person, in our always growing, always changing, GIC "family."

    Thanks so much for sharing!!!

    As always, sending lots of hugs and love to you, Yogi & Sammy, wishing you peace, all of us peace. DEB
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  15. Helena Beatriz

    Helena Beatriz Well-Known Member

    Thanks dear Rose,

    Right now I'm watching the Funeral of Queen Elizabeth and thinking probably you are doing the same. Our thoughts from the distance keeps us connected.

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  16. Rose69

    Rose69 Well-Known Member

    I had planned to watch it, but at the last minute, I decided not to, just didn't feel up to it. I can't even watch funeral scenes in films, I end up changing channels or turning off th TV. Too many 'triggers', not that I need reminding, it's just too 'close to home', when we're struggling to get by with our own personal loss.

    I'm sure I would have watched it if my darling C was here. During all this continuous TV coverage since she died, I keep imagining all the discussions me and him would have had about all this, the new King, and all the rest.

    Kind regards to you too, Helena.
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  17. Helena Beatriz

    Helena Beatriz Well-Known Member

    The season of Autumn is beautiful. It really doesn't take much, and we know Autumn has arrived: the crisper air, bright harvest moons, warm afternoon walks with leaves crunching under foot, and our favorite treats we all remember that go just right with the season. I wanted to say hello to Autumn by sharing this fall haiku style poem.

    Warm fall afternoons,
    crisp cool eves with harvest moons,
    crickets singing tunes,

    Candy apples sweet,
    crunchy leaves beneath my feet,
    Autumn is complete!
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  18. cjpines

    cjpines Well-Known Member

    I ran across this on Facebook from a friend who lost her husband and she posted this.

    We are all visitors to this time, this place, we're just passing
    through. Our purpose here is to observe, to learn, to grow,
    to love....and then we return home.

    Australian Aboriginal Proverb.

    Think about it. Maybe we return where we came from. Just my thought. Karen
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  19. Countess Joy

    Countess Joy Well-Known Member

    Oh, I do think so, yes. I think that what is outside our human lives is more than we have words for, we have to feel it, it’s a different resonance. And we have a direct connection through our beloveds when we feel for them. It’s the energy. Love. ~B
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  20. Helena Beatriz

    Helena Beatriz Well-Known Member