The Dark and the Gloomy

To fully understand what's been going on with me, we need to take a look back. It's a lot to take in so bear with me as I try to explain it all.

2006 started off pretty well. The career was good, my family was happy and healthy (and getting bigger with the arrival of new babies) my friends were all doing well, and I was in the glowy place of a new relationship – the first one I’d ventured into after the big break-up. I was happy and optimistic about life.

I didn’t feel that way for long.

In mid-January of that year a co-worker killed himself. It was horrific and all over the news. I'd known this man for several years and he was the last person I could ever imagine doing something like that. I had nightmares for weeks but never told anyone. I didn't want to talk about it at all.

My grandfather became quite ill in mid-February of that year. We were told he was “actively dying” which was the doctors way of telling us his body was shutting down, organ by organ. He died on St. Patrick’s Day, surrounded by his family. He had a long and full life and though we were all grateful he wasn’t suffering anymore, it was hard saying goodbye to the patriarch of our family. We hadn't lost anyone in the family since my grandmother died 14 years earlier and each of us dealt with it the best way we knew how. I'm not sure I ever really grieved or just decided I didn't want to be sad anymore so I chose not to think about it. I can't say I recommend this method.

Not long after my grandfather’s passing, it became clear to me that the new relationship was not all I’d hoped it would be. A nasty divorce had left him bitter and in no way ready to date. Ignoring all the signs that screamed "Do NOT stay in this relationship!", I stayed. I stayed because I cared about him, because I wanted to show him that I wouldn't just leave the way his wife had, and because (oh man, I hate admitting this) I wanted to fix him. (I actually cringed while typing that last part.) He was sweet and attentive one minute then moody and dismissive the next. It was exhausting. Then the lies started. He told so many that he couldn't keep them straight. He lied himself into a corner one night while we were on the phone and decided to finally come clean: there had been someone else. He said it was a stupid mistake. And then he said he needed to go because he was meeting a friend for dinner but that he would call me later. I assured him he never needed to call me again. I hung up the phone that night thinking that it wasn’t possible for me to feel worse.

I was wrong.

Less than 12 hours later, I was standing in the hallway of Lutheran Hospital as the emergency room doctor explained that they hadn’t been able to resuscitate my beloved Uncle Brad after his heart attack. I have yet to come up with words that adequately describe the heartbreak of losing him. I'm not sure a word big enough actually exists. The pain seems more acute now than it did then but I think it’s because I’m finally dealing with it. And I'm finally admitting about how hard it is for me. I kept myself so stupidly busy after he died that I didn't really accept what had happened. For a long time I didn’t deal with the grief at all. Then again, I hardly had time to deal with that loss because there was more to come.

Six months after Brad died my Uncle Richard was admitted to the hospital with an infection. Richard was a Vietnam vet who had health issues ever since returning home over 30 years ago. He'd had health scares in the past but he always ended up being ok. We thought he would be home after a few days of antibiotics but he took a turn and died in his sleep on Thanksgiving Day. Losing Richard so soon after both my grandfather and Brad had passed took it's toll on my entire family. It was after Richard's death that I began to notice that I wasn't feeling sadness, just anger. But again, I decide to stifle the feelings. I can only think of two people outside of my family who I called when Richard died. I just couldn't talk about it. I never wrote about it here either.

The very next day, my cousin Bradley (Uncle Brad’s son) had a seizure and slipped into a coma. After extensive testing including a spinal tap, the doctors determined he had encephalitis brought on by bacterial meningitis. Translation: his brain was swollen and pressing against his skull. He wasn’t breathing on his own and the doctors weren’t optimistic about his prognosis. I had been strong during everything that had happened up to that point, rarely breaking down. But when I saw Bradley in the ICU I lost it. I choked on tears and the fear of losing him was crippling - literally, my knees buckled. I tried to prepare myself for what I thought would be another death; every time my phone rang I steadied myself for the news that he too was gone. Thankfully, that call never came. Somehow, my cousin (who is more like a brother to me), made a full recovery.

As 2006 drew to a close, I was hugely grateful that Bradley had survived and was certain that 2007 would only bring good things because damn it, I had been through hell and deserved good things.

Turns out, 2007 didn’t get that memo….