When I decided to start a blog I had big ideas. As time wore on my ideas became smaller and life took over so I rarely posted. I am now in a place where I have to start over. Square one. Everything I assumed, and took for granted, has changed. The Doctora is restarting her life.
January 19th my world disintegrated. The love of my life, my soul-mate, my best friend, and my lover, died. The Basha has left the building, and this world. He has left me, and loads of other people who loved him. We are all devastated. I always figured we would have so much more time together for laughter, adventures, travel, and food. It has been almost a month and I am still reeling. Still trying to figure out all the little things that the Basha has taken care of for so long. It is more than when the bills are due, it is where do we order “X” or “Y” from, and what are the magic spices that go on the BBQ shrimp. How do I even begin?
And if death isn’t hard enough, navigating the bureaucracy in a foreign language, trying to understand and meet the governmental deadlines, and file all of the appropriate paperwork, is overwhelming. At this point, I may need a lawyer to get me through this (cue Warren Zevon’s “Lawyers, Guns, and Money”).
What happened? I wish I knew. The Basha was young – too young to worry about dying. The coroner said “Natural death or heart attack” which, according to the office workers, is what is put on all death certificates when there is no obvious cause of death. Even his doctors were surprised by his death. He was getting ready to start chemo for a lymphoma, but that wasn’t the cause of death. All the data pointed to many more years. We had big plans for this summer. The Basha’s death was a surprise to everyone – probably even him.
All deaths leave a hole. A sudden, unexpected death leaves a large and ragged hole. One that is not likely to heal any time soon. I vacillate between focused “do-ing” – pay bills, file insurance claims, go through e-mails, etc. – and unmoored emotion – confusion, grief, anger, pain, disbelief. I don’t think this roller coaster will disappear any time soon. Every day I expect him to walk through the door, roll over to snuggle with him in bed, or think of a question that I want to ask him. And every day it hits me anew that those things aren’t ever going to happen again. Friends and family are helping in any way that they can, which I appreciate greatly. For once in my life I am admitting that I need help. And I also understand that this is a path I must walk alone – only I can heal myself and continue my life. There will never be a time that he is not in my heart, and I am alone now. I must stand tall on my own. He always said he thought I would have another wonderful life after his death, I never thought it would be so soon.
to the Basha:
He is the love of my life
my one and only.
We laughed so hard.
We loved so deeply.
Best friends, tender lovers,
and fiercest critics and defenders.
I could never imagine my life without him,
and I never wanted to.
All bark and no bite, he was kind,
thoughtful, smart, and funny.
There is a huge hole in my heart and
my life without the Basha.
Oh Kate, That post is so beautifully written, so vulnerable, so honest, so heartbreaking that I can barely see to write this.
You may feel alone but you are supported by the love of many people around you. We all ache for you.
Love, Dad
Only to send my love to you. This post was so deeply touching and was a gift. Hope to see you when you are in NE. Julie
While I know anything I say is inadequate to the task, your strength and your and JoPM’s love for each other has always been a bright spot in my universe. Wishing you as much comfort as possible as you find your path.