I have many helpful resources that I turn to on a daily basis. There is a daily meditation book called “Healing After Loss”, a pamphlet called “Experiencing Grief”, a Kindle book called “Comfort for the Grieving Spouse’s Heart”, a Facebook group for people who have lost a spouse, and a prayer and meditation app called “Hallow”. They each have a slightly different emphasis and between all of them, there is always something I can relate to. One of the concepts that I’ve become very accustomed to is “firsts”.
“Firsts” refer to the first time I do something without Bernie. They can be predictable like a holiday or special occasion. There are many, many more that happen unexpectedly and can catch me unaware. Not long after Bernie passed away, I went to REI to return an item I had ordered online. Customer service was in the very back of the store so afterward, I found myself automatically walking toward the sock section. That’s where Bernie and I met whenever we shopped together at REI. When I looked up and realized that he wasn’t standing there, it practically brought me to my knees. I got out of there as fast as I could. It stayed with me for days and left me shaken.
Another bad one was going to the grocery store for the first time, when I automatically walked down the cereal aisle to pick up Bernie’s favorite cereal. I managed to hold it together enough to finish my shopping, but it wasn’t easy. There are many smaller things like cooking a favorite meal or seeing the cherry tree that he loved bloom again.
I’m not comfortable showing my emotions in public so going out was like an emotional landmine – I wasn’t sure what would trigger the pain and I wanted to avoid it altogether. What I’ve learned with the help of what others have written is that this is a common occurrence with grief. The first times are the hardest and I can go somewhere private if I need to be alone. I’ve learned through experience that the next time I experience it is a little easier. The cherry tree is now in full bloom and I can look at it and smile.
The Velveteen Rabbit stayed on a shelf to stay safe but missed out on life. I need and enjoy human contact and it is getting easier to be out in the world. I’m still hit with many, many “firsts” so I can’t avoid the pain. But the readings serve to let me know I’m not alone and that others have also navigated through the same landmines. Knowing what to expect and that it does get better gives me hope.
This is what is called a “widows bracelet”. The word “widow” makes me wince but I love being able to wear Bernie’s wedding ring. I learned about these from my Facebook group. Bought it on Etsy.A fun memory of the partial solar eclipse in August 2017. We had an impromptu eclipse party in our front yard in Graniteville. Pictured are Bernie, Rusty, Julie, Bob and Nina. We lost Rusty a couple of years ago so this picture is especially sweet. Of course it was Rusty’s idea to use the welding masks!Photo from today of Bernie’s favorite cherry tree on a beautiful Spring day
Yesterday was beautiful in the Bay Area, especially after what seems like weeks and months of rain. I walked around Lake Merritt with a good friend. I’d include some photos except I forgot my phone. It was Chica’s and my third walk of the day and it turned out to be a lot longer than I expected (2 hours) so she and I had an 18k step day. She’s quite a trooper. The wildflowers, birds, waterfowl and people gathered made it feel like a wonderful day to be in Oakland. Not something you read about in the news lately!
I have to admit that the previous week was a bit foggy. Sometimes I get weighed down by missing Bernie in a way that makes life seem blurry. Like I’m watching the world go by from the end of a long tunnel and being social or knowing where I put my keys (or phone!) seems almost impossible.
I recently came across an article that described it well.
Exhaustion (and not to mention brain fog) aside, another reason that socializing can become challenging after loss is a newly decreased capacity for small talk. When a loved one dies, at least for a time, this often becomes the focal point of our lives and the realization that the world keeps on turning can feel extremely jarring. It is absolutely “normal” to feel out of the loop on current events in your community or broader world.
Excerpt from “How Grief Impacts Our Social Spheres”, by Alex Mammadyarov, MHC – published on http:..www. intuitivehealingnyc.com 1/24/22
The readings I come across give me solace to know that what that I’m going through is normal. There’s a slogan in AA “This too shall pass” which is also helpful as I know the fog will clear but can also come back without warning. As described beautifully in the closing of the reading.
Do your best to show yourself grace and compassion through it all, over and over again.
I wish there wasn’t a need to do things over and over again, but I’ve learned that this is a bumpy ride and I just need to be present for whatever comes my way. I have many happy moments and for now, the fog has lifted so I’m taking advantage of it and connecting more with the world. I’m grateful to be surrounded by wonderful friends and family, and of course my pups. Tomorrow is Pickleball and I’m on my way out now for walk with friend on this beautiful warm and sunny day.
Bernie and I had a tradition every Easter of invited a group of friends (and whatever extended family happened to be visiting them) and cooking lamb. We worked well as a team whenever we had people over and he always did a wonderful job cooking the lamb (which can be tricky). In honor of that tradition, and one day late, I’m making lamb stew tonight and will think of him and our many happy gatherings we had in this house.
Funny Easter photo from Canton, Ohio with my Grandma Esther. I was happy with my Bugs Bunny.Bernie on our porch last March
Saturday, March 16th was a gorgeous day in the Bay Area. I drove to Napa to visit a friend and to enjoy the mustard which was in full bloom. The mustard, poppies and other wildflowers growing between the gnarly, winter vines and in bright fields of green grass were spectacular. There was one field of yellow mustard along Silverado Trail that was literally so bright, I had to squint to look at it.
Switching topics, I recently found out that the North Face Store in San Francisco was closing as of March 17. Bernie was the Manager of what was built as their flagship store, and we made a point of going in there whenever we were in the City. We attended countless Employee Discount Nights that they strategically held just before Christmas, often grabbing dinner afterward. Something compelled me to take BART in and go visit that store for one last time.
I am so glad I made the trip. Many businesses are closing in the Union Square area but that evening, San Francisco was the beautiful, sparkling city that Bernie loved. I stood on the sidewalk for a long time and took in the place that brings back many happy memories with Bernie.
Plumpjack Winery founded by Gavin Newsom and Gordon Getty. I turned off on Oakville Crossroads so I could turn around on Hwy29. Not technically mustard but beautiful all the same.After their initial announcement to close by 3/17 – they are now saying they will close by the end of the month. I guess I’m not the only one who rushed in to buy something. There are still a few North Face stores open in the Bay Area.
Yesterday would have been Bernie’s 67th birthday. They say that the “firsts” are the hardest and this was one of those hard days for me, but I also was able to celebrate his life with other people who loved him and miss him. I had dinner with dear friends Jess and Gwen last night it was wonderful to share stories about him.
I know that people are often unsure of what to say to me. They worry that if they mention Bernie’s name that it will make me sad. Bernie’s absence is always on my mind so talking about him brings me a great deal of joy, and maybe sometimes tears, but that’s okay. I love hearing his name and having people mention him and share their stories.
Last weekend I flew to Boston and attended a Celebration of Life event with Bernie’s siblings and extended family at a lovely restaurant in Quincy that overlooked the harbor. There were 40 plus people in attendance – many cousins and other family members. I was very touched by the love and affection that permeated the room. Many people mentioned that Bernie had a sweet, giving nature, even as a boy. I realized that it was important for his family, who couldn’t travel to California, to mark his passing and acknowledge his life. It meant a lot to me to be with them. We showed the slide show and people mentioned that it was nice to get a glimpse of Bernie’s life since he had moved to California.
It was wonderful to spend time with Bernie’s immediate family, who I consider my family too. We gathered at Julie and Jim’s for meals and also an Oscars party, complete with four different kinds of ice cream (my favorite dessert). My pup Chica was a big hit and enjoyed wrestling with Uncle Jim. It was comforting to be amongst family and to share in the great love and loss of someone so special and dear to all of us.
Bernie on his birthday in 2022
On Priscilla Beach last Sunday in Plymouth with my two brothers-in-law (and Chica in a pouch).
I’m using another quote from the book “Healing After Loss”. Today’s entry talks about the passage of time, how there is now a very distinct “before” and “after” – not only of the loss but also before the onset of illness.
The coloration of the past shifts – all that has gone before is now sealed with a fixative, the sign of an era ended. The time that spins out ahead into the future is, for awhile, an empty space, a projected perpetual reminder of loss.
I recently joined a private Facebook group of people who have lost spouses and many of their posts resonate with me. When to take off a wedding ring, give away clothes, be able to grocery shop or cook a favorite meal or watch a formerly shared TV show without breaking down.
I’m experiencing some of the same things and realize that there is no timeline for grief. No requirements, rules or suggestions that fit everyone. The experience of grief is unique to the relationship one has with the person they lost. Listening to these folks is giving me permission to go easy on myself, to be patient and to have compassion not only for myself, but for others going through the same thing.
Some people in the group are crippled by anxiety, depression and hopelessness and that is not what I’m experiencing. I’m sad and I miss Bernie every day, and some days the sadness overtakes me at unexpected moments, but I can still experience moments of joy, happiness and laughter despite the pain of loss. Last Saturday night I met up with Jerry and Louie (Jerry was the Banjo player in the band) and we saw High Country play some bluegrass music at the Back Room in Berkeley. I started playing Pickleball again and I write almost daily. Sunny and Chica are a constant sourse of love and affection – and laughter.
The last part of today’s entry gives me hope for the future.
As we begin to reweave our lives with the strands now available to us, the lines of demarcation soften a bit. We begin to look back, not always with the pain of what we have lost, but with joy and appreciation for that life we have shared…we savor the ways in which our loved one still is, and will continue to be, a presence in our lives. As I begin to see beyond the pain, I sense how both sadness and joy are part of the tapestry of my life.
I know that there will come a time when I can look ahead, not at what I have lost but perhaps toward a hopeful future. I trust in a higher power to keep me safe on my journey, wherever that may lead.
Bernie and me in San Francisco last February. We took the Ferry over from Jack London Square, had lunch at the Ferry Building and then walked to Chinatown and bought a “wok”. A fun day to remember.Sunny wondering when she’s going to get her bed back.
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February is a busy month – Ash Wednesday, Valentine’s Day, my birthday. As I’ve been learning from the reading materials and the class I’m taking about grief, special dates can make things a little harder. The experience of the loss of a loved one is unique to each person, and it helps to know that there is no “one way” to do it. My experience is my own.
I always appreciate it when people reach out and ask how I’m doing although it is a bit hard to explain. “Fine” doesn’t really cut it yet I’m not sad all the time. The following entry is from a book called “Healing After Loss – Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief” by Martha Whitmore Hickman. This entry is from February 14th. If you wonder how I’m doing right now, this explains it exactly.
If there is one thing grievers know, it is how changeable our moods can be. One moment we are relatively calm, in control, keeping our grief at bay. The next moment we are overwhelmed, our equilibrium shattered.
Anything can send us off – a fragrance, the words of a song, an article in a newspaper that reminds us of our loss, the first sign of spring – and our loved one not here to share it. Even minor holidays – like Valentine’s Day – can send us reeling.
Other times we are carefree, relishing the moment – the beauty of snow, the warmth of fire, the comfort of hot cocoa, the presence of friends. And we wonder why we are so susceptible to such mood swings. We may even wonder about our sanity – when will my moods be more measured so I am not always in danger of being swept away, of falling through the trapdoor of despair?
Our lives have been shattered by loss. Of course it will take time for the pieces to come together in any coherent pattern.
Bernie always loved it when I included photos with my BLOG posts and I’m adding a memory from Valentine’s Day 2018. It was also Ash Wednesday. Bernie came into SF to meet me after work and we went to a church to get our ashes. As you can see, they followed a theme and we took a selfie on BART to send to our niece Lauren, thinking she would get a kick out of it.
The other photo is of Sting at a concert I went to this past Wednesday night. He played with the San Francisco Symphony at Davies Symphony Hall. My friend Kate treated me to the show. We were in the third-row orchestra and it was one of the most amazing concerts I’ve ever been to. There were moments of sadness when I remembered being there the last time with Bernie, he loved the Symphony, but I was also able to savor the joy of the moment. May you savor the joy of the moments of your life, as each one is a blessing and a gift.
I want to say first off that I’m so appreciative of all the love, care and support I’ve been receiving. So many people have reached out in one way or the other and I feel very cared for and held up. I’ve lost both parents, my brothers, and a close friend and losing Bernie is definitely in a class all by itself. My grief is bigger than I can really fathom, and I know I can’t do it alone. I’m especially grateful that I’ve learned to cultivate a spiritual life that gives me hope that I can do this, one day at a time, without falling completely to pieces.
I have availed myself to all support offered. Kaiser has been wonderful – calling me and sending me information about grief resources. I joined an online grief group and have some plans to take advantage of some other services. I do things I enjoy including playing Pickleball, getting together with friends and playing with my new silly puppy named Chica.
I like to think that Chica was a gift from Bernie. His caretaker Jazmin was really wonderful. She showed up a few days after Bernie’s passing to pick up her final check. She brought her new puppy Osito with her. I admired the puppy and she said that there were “more puppies”. I said absolutely NOT, I can’t even think about getting another dog, much less a puppy. She said okay but then she sent me photos. She knew better than I did what my heart needed.
When I saw the little black and white Chihuahua puppy with spotted paws, I immediately knew she was meant to be my dog. She looks just like my dog Chico that I had as a kid. Chico also rescued me during a difficult time and Chica has filled a big void in my life. She’s hilarious, smart and quite a cuddle-bug. Even fifteen year old Sunny has perked up quite a bit and the three of us make quite a threesome on our walks. Chica thinks that everything she sees and everyone she meets is the best thing ever.
I lost my wonderful husband Bernie, the love of my life, on December 1. His Celebration of Life service yesterday was beautiful and the reception, where many people shared their stories of what a joy it was to know him, was a touching tribute. I am truly grateful and overwhelmed by emotions at the outpouring of love and support.
I will be continuing this blog as I navigate life without Bernie, still unimaginable at this point. Writing is a way I make sense of the world, which is now a world without him. My pain is great but my gratitude for having in my life for 35 years sustains me. I posted the Eulogy I read at the service below and also the link to the slide show that we showed at the reception.
Eulogy for Bernie 12/16/2023
Thank you so much for coming today to celebrate Bernie’s life. Following the service everyone is invited next door to a reception where we can gather, share stories about Bernie, listen to some music, and be together not only to mourn his loss but to share in the joy of knowing him.
As anyone who ever met Bernie knows, it’s not an exaggeration to say that he was truly the nicest guy in the world. He was the sweetest, kindest, most open hearted, giving person I have ever known, and I was lucky enough to be married to him for thirty years.
We met in 1988, on McGee Street in Berkeley, after we’d both been invited to a birthday dinner for a friend he’d met while playing basketball. He worked for the Navy Exchange and had only recently moved here from San Diego. He told me later that one of the first things he always did when he moved to a new city was to find a pickup basketball game as it was a sure way to make friends. We started dating and I did my best to show him around the Bay Area. His delight and enthusiasm gave me a new appreciation for the place I’d grown up in.
In 1989 I took him to spend a weekend with my parents at their off-the-grid cabin in the Sierras in a little town called Graniteville. He was a goner after that. Bernie and I ended up buying that cabin in 1993, the same year we got married, and it became our life’s dream to spend as much time there as possible. We enjoyed fixing it up, hiking down to the creek and having coffee on the porch, but what Bernie loved more than anything was to share our little piece of paradise with others – whether it be neighbors, family or friends. Many of our friends have made the trek over that bumpy dirt road so many times that their visits have become more like a family gathering than just a weekend away.
One such gathering we’ve been hosting for many years is our annual 4th of July get together of the Shepherd Canyon Band with Bernie’s band mates and their partners. This past 4th of July, Bernie was in the hospital and too sick to make it, but he insisted that we all should still go. His deepest wish was for everyone to come together and play music like they had for so many years, without a thought to his own situation. He never complained or felt sorry for himself, he just wanted what was best for the people he loved. That’s the way he was. In all honesty, right now I can’t imagine going there without him, but he made me promise that I’d keep the tradition going so the music would go on, even if he couldn’t be there.
Of course, Bernie was never content just working on his own projects, he was very active in the community. He was one of the first members of the Graniteville Volunteer Fire Company that was formed in 1998 and he remained an active member until his death. He also volunteered his time and talents to the GCSA. Bernie never said no when he was asked to help, and most of the time he didn’t even need to be asked.
I remember him getting paged in the middle of the night when a kid at a nearby summer camp was having a panic attack on his first night away from home. Bernie didn’t hesitate to suit up and drive off into the dark. Once he got there, the little boy immediately calmed down and was fine. Bernie had that effect on people. I lost count of all the people he helped, most of them complete strangers, whose cars were stuck in the snow or who had run out of gas. He never took any money when it was offered, he just asked people to donate to the Fire Department, shook their hand, and went on his way.
When we were first dating, I was a little nervous about telling him that I was clean and sober and very active in the recovery community. You will not be surprised to hear that he thought it was wonderful that I had recognized I had a problem and had done something to address it. He was a strong supporter of my recovery. Whenever anyone asked him if he “was a friend of Bill’s”, his answer would be, “No, but I’m related to Bill by marriage.”
We wanted to have a shared spiritual life, so Bernie suggested that we come here, to Our Lady of Lourdes. I wasn’t Catholic at the time and was a bit skeptical but as it turned out, I felt immediately welcomed and at home and Lourdes became our spiritual center. I am very grateful to my Lourdes family for their support. Father Tom’s visits meant a great deal to Bernie, and I appreciate Father Jim’s help and support with this service today.
The question of how Bernie became such a loving, giving man was answered when I met his family. As some of you know, I grew up in a rather “colorful” family so the first time I went back and spent Christmas with the Bishops, it was a bit of a culture shock. They were all so nice to each other, no one was competing for attention or trying to out-do the other. They loved each other with a quiet acceptance that epitomized what unconditional love is all about. I didn’t know what to make of it except to be grateful that they welcomed me in so completely.
They have been a huge strength and support to me, especially over these last few months. His brothers Kevin and Brian, his sister Julie and her husband Jim, and my niece and nephew Lauren and Kevin are here today. I’m also grateful for my family members who are here, my niece Morgan and her husband Mario, my cousin Kristy, and my sister Susan Jackson.
Obviously, I can’t talk about Bernie without talking about music. We shared a love of music from the beginning. Our honeymoon was an Irish Music Folklore tour of Ireland. Now back then, Bernie was not playing and singing, and as a matter of fact, I had no idea he could sing. One night back in the 1990s, when he was up at Tahoe taking a Wilderness First Aid class, he ran into a bunch of musicians from Oakland who were playing bluegrass music. They invited him to bring his guitar and come play at a Jam at the Baja Taqueria on Piedmont Avenue and the rest is history.
No one was more surprised than I was when he started singing, and boy could he sing. This tall, quiet, gentle guy from Boston would open his mouth and out came a pure, clear, lonesome sound that made people sit up and listen. The band practiced in our living room and many a night I would sit at the top of the stairs and listen to their beautiful singing and playing. There was something very special about the Shepherd Canyon Band. They had an affection and respect for each other that came across whenever they played. Again, another blessing of having Bernie in my life is to have been welcomed in by his band family, and indeed by the whole Bluegrass community.
I was amazed the first time I saw Bernie jump on a stage and sing in front of an audience, without a single trace of self-consciousness or nervousness. I asked him about it, and he told me “Singing a song is like telling a story, it’s not about me, it’s about the song.” To honor Bernie’s memory, I encourage everyone to be kind to each other, listen with your heart, delight in the happiness of those around you. Let every word out of your mouth be kind and loving just as Bernie was to everyone he met. Remember the lesson that Bernie taught us, “It’s not about me, it’s about the song.” (after the reading, a recording of Bernie singing 1952 Vincent Black Lightning was played).
