All Fakakta

Fakakta. Great word. Yiddish for "messed up" as well as a few other choice words....

That's how I have been feeling. My husband left this earth almost 2 1/2 years ago. I start to feel a little less sadness and then BOOM it starts all over again. I am beginning to  understand that this is what grief is.

Don't misunderstand me. I don't go a day without crying for his loss. Some days it is unpredictable and others, all I have to do is think of him and then the waterfall starts. It's a good thing I drink so much water or I swear I would be dehydrated. It is exhausting and cathartic at the same time. How is that possible?

I am so happy that my husband is free of pain, suffering and is in a place where he is whole again and able to do all the things he wanted to do while on earth. Selfishly, I want him back with me. Yes, I saw his body slowly being taken over by the Multiple Sclerosis. Yes, I saw his body twist and shrink as his muscles shriveled up. When he was  unable to eat he got thinner and thinner. We had to be so careful not to break his bones when trying to move him or straighten him out when he would have muscle spasms. We would all wear a happy face so that he would not see how much it pained us to see him in this condition. All these things haunt me and I take a deep breath and know that his suffering is over now.

I felt guilty for wanting him to live. Even when he forgot names. A few times he looked at me like a deer in headlights. He really didn't know who I was. I would joke with him and say "you know who I am, it's me the love of  your life". He would tear up and shake his head no and then in a second, he remembered and whispered my name.... Steph. I would tell him "see you DO know  me!" Triumphant for him, and bittersweet for me. Many afternoons were spent crying on the way home from work. I felt sorry for myself. Then I felt guilty for feeling sorry for myself.

What a twisted way to live. This insanity went on for the first year following his passing. I had such conflicting, mixed emotions. I wanted to label each one, put it in a jar on a shelf and open it only when I wanted to. Well that bitch GRIEF would not let me do that. She grabs you by the throat and throws  you into a clusterfuck of emotions. And then just when you think you have it kind of under control, she spins it up again when there is a holiday, anniversary or really sad commercial on TV. I never knew when something--a smell, sound, song, the bark of the dog... whatever, would stir up the tornado of emotions.

I couldn't understand what was going on. I had my verbal one to one's with God. I  yelled and screamed at him. I even got angry at Pete. He just left me. No notice, no great parting words of wisdom. Nothing. Slowly, I started to understand. Everything I was feeling was ok. It was part of the plan. Part of the process. Part of the healing.

Fakakta. Yes, that is how it was and some days it still is. And that is ok.