A Sign Of Peace

Yesterday’s post brought some interesting opinions about support. A couple of people thought I was referring to myself and the grieving process of losing my brother. I do appreciate the support and compassion offered to me. The post was a general post and no reflection on any of that. After stating that I was at peace, guilt trickled over me. I wondered if something was wrong with me for feeling at peace. We all know that grieving processes are different for everyone. I still have moments of sadness, but overall I am at complete peace that my brother is not suffering and has entered a place of comfort. Remember how I wrote about finding peace after his death, how I had searched for a literal peace sign or signs of peace and didn’t find them though I felt at peace? Any way, while I was sitting there questioning my own process and perspective, I sort of shook my head and decided to just move on…meaning forget it for the time being and check my email.

There was only one email in my box. When I opened it, this photo stared me in the face. It was from a writing blog to which I am subscribed, and it sends out a week of posts at a time.

This photo did not have a source attached, but here is the site that sent it to me. http://www.writingthroughlife.com/a-weeks-worth-of-journaling-prompts-war-and-peace  Note *Credit Image: Jayel Aheram

Here I was staring at this soldier with a peace sign drawn on his palm. It slapped me right across the face. The analogy never occurred to me before then. This soldier, in a war torn country, was fighting for peace. My brother had done the same. He fought the battle of his life in a war against cancer. He found peace. Yes, it was at the expense of physical death. I can’t give you personal knowledge of this place he has entered, but if you read that piece I wrote on peace, you know I have reconciled with the struggle I had with losing him.

People wage wars every day. We have been attacked on our own soil and have traveled to other countries to fight. Conflicts exist in our own backyards, within our families, churches, and community. We engage in our own internal and spiritual wars. We are often confused and struggle to sort things out. The war ends when we find peace.

What about the photo or the timing of it? Coincidence? Maybe. A sign from my brother? Perhaps. Does it really matter which it is? No, I am at peace…

39 thoughts on “A Sign Of Peace

  1. This post especially caught my attention because I just finished reading “The Other Side of Sadness: What the New Science of Bereavement Tell Us About Life After Loss” by George A. Bonanno. Bottom line: no two people grieve the same way. You are blessed to feel peaceful, and certainly not unique. Don’t be concerned about what others may think of your “failure to grieve properly.”

    BTW, Amber does attribute her graphics — down at the bottom of each post. Many of us follow that format, so it’s interesting to learn that not everyone notices it there. In my case, if I fail to attribute, it’s because I created the graphic myself, or circumstances do not require attribution.

    • I will check out that book…wonder if it’s offered on kindle. I think I left you a note that I ordered your book, and it should arrive soon!
      Thanks for that bit of info. I think I was overwhelmed and didn’t take the time to do a thorough search, but wanted to leave some sort of credit. I almost always use photos that I take myself. Of course, in this situation, that would not have worked.
      Now, I’m on my way to checking out that book…thanks again!

  2. Great post. I struggle sometimes about peace too. Am I at peace because I’m in denial or because I’ve come through the other side of grief?

    Well said and the timing of that graphic was perfect.

    • I have wondered about that myself…whether it’s denial of the other side of grief that’s given me peace. I don’t think the timing could have been better.

  3. We hear so often that “broken hearts” never heal when we lose a loved one, that we start to believe the truth of that conditioning.

    Some people feel “guilty” for letting go of what they cannot reclaim. So they hang on to their grief and wear it like a badge of honor.

    If we expect healing, we achieve healing.
    If we insist that we will never heal, we don’t.

    Personally, I’ll take peace and healing over guilt and grief any day.


  4. Pingback: A Sign Of Peace (via The Water Witch’s Daughter) | Change is Never Ending

  5. What a beautiful post. I can’t help but love it when things work out to seem as though they’re connected somehow. I’ve found that, when timing works out in that way, it sort of reaffirms the peace you feel.

  6. I think that is ONE of the tricky things about death. People all deal with it differently and almost no matter what we do/feel there might be feelings of “is this right?” “am I ok?” “am I wrong to feel this way?”

    Since it is different for everyone I strongly feel we cannot judge (or we SHOULD not–because we are human and we do judge). People handle death in their own way.

    I LOVE it when people feel peace. But everyone has their own beliefs so it is different.

    I was able to collect $15 more today for the American Cancer Society. Saturday is the walk. I’ll be wearing my shirt with “Monte” on it.


  7. OMG, I got CHILLS reading this, Suzi!!!

    Yes, absolutely, I truly think it was a sign from your brother. In fact, after talking to Peg and then reading the post you shared about your brother giving you a sign, I immediately thought of a peace sign.

    But as you shared….

    x to you, my friend!

    “Does it really matter which it is? No, I am at peace… ”


  8. You know what I think! I think we (you, Gary and myself) have ound our peace. We all know he’s in a better place and just because we feel peace doesn’t mean we love him any less or miss him any less. Love you so much!

  9. Reading your words and looking at that picture – I could feel the peace too. It’s a beautiful way of looking at things. I’m hoping I can find that peace when thinking of my father. Thanks Suzicate.

  10. It’s amazing where messages come from if we’re paying attention. I write in my memoir that as Annie was sick and dying my sister Carol started a mantra of sorts with her by telling her, “No worries.” Mark and I were traveling when we got the call that we needed to come home. In the airport line, I had to brush by a young woman to catch up with Mark. I said, “I’m sorry. Excuse me.” And she smiled and said “No worries.”

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