Leftover Love

A week after Christmas, while I was in Target looking through the clearance aisle, I noticed the clerk was making room for the Valentine’s Day merchandise. Recently, I read that Americans spend 25 billion dollars on Valentine's Day. Cards, candy, and flowers are the number one gift items people purchase.

Valentine’s Day is like a giant splinter in your hand that can’t be ignored when you are grieving. It’s painful. Our loss is magnified by the focus on ways to express love.

In his book, “Seasons of Sorrow” by Tim Challies, he writes about the loss of his son and says, “...one of the great sorrows that come with the death of a loved one is being left with feelings that can no longer be acted on.” In our loss, we experience a space where we once gave love and received love.

It’s been said that grief is love with no place to go. I can’t help but wonder if we can create a place for our love even after our loved one is gone. Maybe it can be considered “leftover love.”

Last month, as I remembered the 7-year anniversary of my husband's death, I intentionally found a way to express my love. Together, my husband and I shared a fondness for coffee. Not just drinking it, but going to different coffee roasters, learning how the beans were picked and roasted and eventually put in the bag to take home to make coffee.

On that particular morning, I drove to our favorite coffee roaster, and ordered a favorite drink, remembering our visits of talking to the baristas and asking about the kinds of coffee available. I followed my coffee visit with a drive downtown to take a walk where we used to go and watch the ferry.

As I drove home, I remembered what my husband enjoyed: coffee and being near the water. What I discovered was my love for the things he loved. I love the places he loved. And I love the people he loved.

Keeping our love for our loved ones when they are no longer here is a process for each of us. We can take our “leftover love” as we find ways to give and receive love in the space they left. It becomes a living tribute to our loved ones as we continue on our journey.

‘‘Grateful Yet Grieving’’

FREE ebook by Pam Luschei | Click HERE To Download

Spiritual Practices As We Grieve

Back in November, I was interviewed by a friend, Sue Fulmore, on the spiritual practices I used during my early grief journey for her YouTube channel. Sue and I became acquainted at a writer's conference in 2019 and reconnected in an online writing group. Sue has a gentle spirit and tender heart to put words on the page in a beautiful way. (I’ve attached the link below for you to listen to, but I will offer a summary of what we discussed).

I recently watched the movie “Castaway” with Tom Hanks. I had seen it before, but in seeing it again, I had different eyes. I could relate to landing in a place you never imagined and trying to make sense of it all. In the movie, we watch as the character figures out the “unfigureoutable” in a constant state of finding ways to survive on a deserted island with limited resources. No one is prepared for the unexpected.

In the early days after my husband died, I was trying to describe and find ways to figure out what I needed, where I was, and how would I manage my life.

Journaling became one of the first ways I processed my grief. Grammar and penmanship didn’t matter—questions without answers formed on the pages. I poured out my soul, as the Psalmist says in Psalm 42:3, 4. Finding words for my experience was like finding my way out of the rubble to be able to see where I was.

Along with writing, I looked for other people’s words to describe my pain. I found the Psalms to give a voice to my state of being. The last verse in Psalm 88, “darkness is my closest friend,” allowed me to identify and lament with the Psalmist.

In addition to journaling and reading, I found movement was essential in processing my grief. Whether walking the dog, going to Pilates, or walking with a friend, my body needed to move. In her book The Grief Brain, Dr. Mary Francis O’Connor looks at how grief affects our brains and our bodies. After moving, I would experience a pause so I could keep going. As my doctor used to tell me, “Motion is lotion.”

https://youtu.be/YlJT8ybq5N4?si=JcJyOykSfJa0U4W4

Back to the movie, “Castaway,” Tom Hanks’ character finds a way to survive and get off the island. He’s rescued and goes back to his former life. What he finds, though, is his life has changed. He can’t go back to what he knew or who he was. What he experienced changed him.

In the same way, grief changes us. We can’t go back, but we can move through into a different life than we knew.

‘‘Grateful Yet Grieving’’

FREE ebook by Pam Luschei | Click HERE To Download