Grief Train

From 6/19:

A friend died today.

Angiosarcoma took her life.  Just like it did Kevin’s in 2008.

And I cry, I cry as I type.  I cry for this disease that doesn’t know when to stop.  I cry for her little girls who will grow up without her constant love and affection.  I cry for her husband who has to face those lonely nights.

I cry.

I cried yesterday too.  Something came in the mail.  Something that signified another ending to my life with Kevin.  Something I was looking forward to but ended up just hitting a grief nerve.

It’s my husband’s birthday today.  And I want to be strong, to not let him know all this grief because it’s HIS day.  I want to give that to him without any interference from my old life.

But shit.  There it goes.  The grief trigger yesterday.  The death today.

And nearly 6 years after Kev is gone the grief still flows out of me like it just happened.  That ache in my chest is palpable, the tears on my cheeks coming down in salty streams, the sense in my head completely gone.

Grief really never goes away.  It’s bitterness just fades a bit.  But then, it seems when it hits now, that I’m completely surprised by it.  My coping skills are so rusty they can’t fight their way out to help me.  The burden feels heavy and the sorrow suffocating.

So I’m sucking it up.  I’m wiping my tears, blowing my snot and trying to find some strength.

But what it comes down to is the the truth of my feelings tonight – the phrase “F.U.A.S.” that sounds so clearly across our Facebook group.  Fuck You Angiosarcoma.


Related posts

Leave A Comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.