Grief

In reality, I have been grieving for the loss of our life, for over two years. Jeff and I were VERY happy when he was first diagnosed. We were in love with each other, had jobs we liked, a baby on the way, a house we were busy remodeling, and the list goes on....we were happy and WE KNEW we were happy. We were not two people who were too busy with life to recognize that we had it good.

So, when we found out that Jeff had AML, devastation settled itself upon our (apparently) too nice life. As we navigated through surgeries, chemotherapy and transplant number one, we succumbed to the fact that our life had definitely changed, but held out hope for a better future. For me, most of that hope died out in February after Jeff's first relapse. I am well-versed on AML, its treatments, its causes (or lack thereof), and of course, its sobering statistics. A relapse after a transplant is BAD. There is no other word for it. Very, very few people survive for very long after the relapse. A second relapse, of course, portends an even more bleak future for its victims.

If I look back on things now, I grieved for the loss of our life, as we knew it, after the first transplant, and I began grieving for Jeff back in February after the first relapse. Any hope that I did have was transferred to Jeff in any way I could manage. I didn't outwardly grieve him while he was here, but on the inside, I was preparing myself. I needed to do that so that I could manage the months of treatments and be able to take care of JD. Maybe that sounds confusing, but I'm not somebody who lives with my head buried in the sand - I needed to face what was probably coming.

I've now lost two people who were absolutely shining lights in my life. One of them left me suddenly, and the other over the course of two years. I can't say that one way is better than the other, but I can say that in a lot of ways, a sudden loss is easier. The grief is more intense, but the anxiety leading up to a sudden death is non-existent, and anxiety about death is a cruel, cruel punishment, especially for a 30-year old.

Where am I now? Good question. We're only two weeks out, and I'm okay. Not good yet, and maybe I'm still in a little bit of shock - shock that I'll never hear Jeff's voice again, never hear him strum his guitar, or never see him kiss JD again. BUT, I'm also relieved that leukemia doesn't have to be a regular part of my day, that JD doesn't have to live in Hershey and at home, that Jeff is no longer struggling with his own mortality, and that he is no longer in pain. I've loved Jeff since I was 16 years old, and I AM relieved that I don't have to watch him suffer anymore. Really relieved.

Rest in peace, my beautiful, beautiful man.