sorrow

Grieving Changed Me – I Knew Love Wins

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Grieving Changed Me

It was nine months since Babe died. I sat with M at the coffee shop. She saw changes in me. She wanted to know if saw any changes in me. Grieving changed me. I think it changes everyone. Here is an excerpt from Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again on how I was changing:

“How are you different, Ray?” M asked. “When I look at you, I see what I see. But, I don’t see everything. There are parts of you that only you know. And, there are parts of you that you don’t recognize and only God knows them. . . . What matters to you, Ray?”

“You do, M. My family does. My neighbors do. The people at the Y. The baristas at the coffee shop. The birds that come to my bird feeders. I feel myself connecting to everyone I meet, and to all of God’s amazing creations surrounding me. It is this sense of connection that is pulling me out of isolation. It is healing my open wounds. It is creating a new heart for me, one capable of loving all and receiving love from all.”

M smiled and said, “Love is leading you, Ray. Love wins. Love heals. The more you love, the greater your healing. Where love is, the door is always open.”

Ordering information for the paperback or ebook version of Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again may be found at https://optimisticbeacon.com/dancing-alone/

Excerpt From: Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again by Ray Calabrese. This material is protected by copyright.

Grieving is Tough, I Was Becoming Stronger

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M told me she could see me becoming stronger each day. She asked me to write four letters to Babe. I was to write each letter in the present tense as if Babe were still alive. I frequently paused while I wrote these letters to compose myself. It was a very emotional experience, but, it was a liberating experience that strengthened my will to go on. Here is an excerpt from my love letter to Babe in Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again:

“Dear Babe,

You’re my first thought when I awaken and the last thought before I fall asleep. When I awaken in the middle of the night and I whisper, “Babe, I love you. I’ll love you forever.” Did you know, I trace the sign of the cross on your shoulder while you are sleeping? I do it every time I wake up in the night. When I trace it, I ask God to bless you and watch over you. The first words you utter after you open your eyes are, “I love you, Bun.” I touch you and say, “I love you, too.”

Each day, your joy of life lights a fire within me. When you open your eyes and turn to me in bed, I see the sparks of joy, life, and love. I know in that moment all is right, all is good, and it will be a great day. You ignite the flames of love, hope, and joy within me. You teach me to lighten up, have fun, and enjoy life’s gifts. “It’s not all serious and it’s not all work,” you tell me.”

Ordering information for the paperback or ebook version of Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again may be found at https://optimisticbeacon.com/dancing-alone/

Excerpt From: Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again by Ray Calabrese. This material is protected by copyright

Today’s Reflection ~ Worry

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Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow. It empties today of its strength. ~ Corrie Ten Boom

Relearning to be Grateful

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Relearning to be Grateful

M told me losing the ability to be grateful is common among men and women who grieve. She encouraged me to “relearn gratefulness.” She suggested I begin by journaling my gratitude for Babe. Here is an excerpt from Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again:

“I am grateful for how Babe helped me lighten up and not take life so seriously. I am grateful for how she saw in me what I couldn’t see for myself. I am grateful each time I heard her laugh. I am grateful for the times we made love. I am grateful for each of our dates. I am grateful for how Babe taught me to manage a household. I watched and learned from her. The lessons she taught me helped me to keep the house clean, cook, make things neat, and manage money. Little did I know, God was using Babe to prepare me this part of my life.

I am grateful for the small things. I can still see her childlike excitement at decorating for Christmas, her delight while she cooked a meal, or her enjoyment as she sipped a cup of coffee. I am grateful for watching her get all dolled up for me. I told her many times she was born beautiful. I am grateful for her excitement whenever we planned a trip. She would start packing two weeks early. “I am grateful for the moments when I was anxious and she’d put her hand on my neck. As if by magic, my tension and anxiety would instantly disappear.”

Ordering information for the paperback or ebook version of Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again may be found at https://optimisticbeacon.com/dancing-alone/

Excerpt From: Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again by Ray Calabrese. This material is protected by copyright

Love Doesn’t Die

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M encouraged me to trust my instincts. She told me my instincts were my internal GPS and would guide me on the grieving path to walk toward healing, health, and happiness. Here is an excerpt from my journal in Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again:

“How do I move into the future toward healing, health, and happiness without Babe? My instincts tell me opening myself to receiving and giving love is the key to the rest of my life. It doesn’t matter if I am grieving or not grieving. When Babe was alive, we both were open to giving and receiving love. Our love did not die because Babe died. My love for Babe endures. I will never stop loving her. Babe has my heart. The more I love, the larger my heart will become. I will be like the Grinch in the Dr. Seuss Christmas story and movie.”

Ordering information for the paperback or ebook version of Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again may be found at https://optimisticbeacon.com/dancing-alone/

Excerpt From: Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again by Ray Calabrese. This material is protected by copyright

Getting Past the Grieving Wall

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Getting Past the Grieving Wall

M could see in me what I couldn’t see or feel in myself. She said, “Ray, you’re making progress. It’s time to take a bold step.” Taking this step was easier said than done. Here is an excerpt from my journal in Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again:

“Knowing what I should do and knowing why it is good for me do not always coincide. M told me I have no choice but to learn to live again. I can no longer lock myself behind the walls of my house. It’s time for me to reach out to others and connect with them in more meaningful ways. Why can’t people connect with me? Why do I have to do all the work? Why can’t it just happen for me and to me?

I sound like a child not wanting to do chores. Choosing to live again isn’t as easy as it sounds. It is a whole new learning curve. I am being asked to choose to live, even if it is painful and pain-filled. It means re-engaging life and answering yes to M’s question, “Do I choose to live and to act on my decision?”

Ordering information for the paperback or ebook version of Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again may be found at https://optimisticbeacon.com/dancing-alone/

Excerpt From: Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again by Ray Calabrese. This material is protected by copyright

Grieving & Anger Were My Dance Partners

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The weight of the anger I carried threatened to destroy me. I was angry with doctors, nurses, hospitals, God, and mostly myself. I always protected my family and I faulted myself for failing Babe. M suggested I journal about my anger. Journaling about my anger helped to loosen its grip on me.Here is an excerpt from Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again.

“I have a lot of unpacked baggage related to Babe’s hospital stay. My mind heads straight for this tragic moment in time, not bothering to stop at intersections or red lights to give me a breather along the way. Images of caring people and people who didn’t care all play continuously across a screen in my mind.

I’m angry at myself for being so naïve. I believed doctors and health professionals care. I recall only one doctor who cared enough to fight for Babe—one out of many. I think there was a time when doctors cared more. I met them before. But it seems times have changed. Circumstances have changed. Compassion trails the field, running a distant second to rules and regulations. . . . 

There are times when we waited forty-five minutes for a CMA or nurse to answer our repeated calls for assistance. Does a money manager understand the demands on a nurse and a CMA? Nurses and CMAs are overloaded with several patients to cover all at once. I wondered if some patients just lay in their waste for hours? Those who do not have family or friends with them must, and I am certain of it.”

Ordering information for the paperback or ebook version of Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again may be found at https://optimisticbeacon.com/dancing-alone/

Excerpt From: Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again by Ray Calabrese. This material is protected by copyright

Today’s Reflections ~ Kindness & Sorrow

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Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside, you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing. Naomi Shihab Nye

Sorrow Is Like a Ceaseless Rain

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When I began writing Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again I was unsure I’d find my way through the grieving process. I began Chapter 1 with the poem, Sorrow, by Edna St. Vincent Millay.  His poem expressed how I felt. Here is the poem as I placed it at the beginning of Chapter 1 in Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again:

SORROW

Sorrow like a ceaseless rain

Beats upon my heart.

People twist and scream in pain,

Dawn will find them still again;

This has neither wax nor wane,

Neither stop nor start.

People dress and go to town;

I sit in my chair.

All my thoughts are slow and brown:

Standing up or sitting down

Little matters, or what gown

Or what shoes I wear.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again. Available in paperback and ebook formats from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iTunes, and Kobo.

Excerpt From

Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again

Raymond Calabrese

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Nothing But Stone – by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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Nothing But Stone

I think I never passed so sad an hour,
   Dear friend, as that one at the church to-night.
The edifice from basement to the tower
   Was one resplendent blaze of coloured light.
Up through broad aisles the stylish crowd was thronging,
   Each richly robed like some king’s bidden guest.
“Here will I bring my sorrow and my longing,”
   I said, “and here find rest.”

I heard the heavenly organ’s voice of thunder,
   It seemed to give me infinite relief.
I wept.  Strange eyes looked on in well-bred wonder.
   I dried my tears: their gaze profaned my grief.
Wrapt in the costly furs, and silks, and laces,
   Beat alien hearts, that had no part with me.
I could not read, in all those proud cold faces,
   One thought of sympathy.

I watched them bowing and devoutly kneeling,
   Heard their responses like sweet waters roll
But only the glorious organ’s sacred pealing
   Seemed gushing from a full and fervent soul.
I listened to the man of holy calling,
   He spoke of creeds, and hailed his own as best;
Of man’s corruption and of Adam’s-falling,
   But naught that gave me rest:

Nothing that helped me bear the daily grinding
   Of soul with body, heart with heated brain;
Nothing to show the purpose of this blinding
   And sometimes overwhelming sense of pain.
And then, dear friend, I thought of thee, so lowly,
   So unassuming, and so gently kind,
And lo! a peace, a calm serene and holy,
   Settled upon my mind.

Ah, friend, my friend! one true heart, fond and tender,
   That understands our troubles and our needs,
Brings us more near to God than all the splendour
   And pomp of seeming worship and vain creeds.
One glance of thy dear eyes so full of feeling,
   Doth bring me closer to the Infinite
Than all that throng of worldly people kneeling
   In blaze of gorgeous light.

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