It was a year ago this week that I got caught in the whirlwind. I never posted the details of that time – and I won’t share a whole lot now. The short version follows:

My nephew called me from Maine and asked if he could stop by since he would be in the area that week. I hadn’t seen him in person in a long time, so of course I said yes. He showed up on Tuesday, I had gone for a walk and on the way home my phone blew up with messages from his wife, demanding to know if I knew where he was. I didn’t answer her, she had gotten on my shit list the previous summer when she implied on Facebook that my deceased sister had been abusive to her children. My sister was many things, but the one thing she most definitely was not was abusive to anyone. Also, she was my best friend, and she’s dead so shut your filthy mouth, you skankass ho. (The Facebook post was quickly removed when I told my nephew to handle it or I would) Then his sister called and wanted to know if he was with me. And thus, the drama began.

He arrived that afternoon, a shell of himself. I barely recognized him, physically he was normal but mentally he was a hot mess. He told me that she had been controlling his every move, cameras in every room of the house (his house, by the way, she had her own place) tracking apps on his phone, credit card and bank alerts so he couldn’t even buy a candy bar without her knowledge. He had decided that he had to get away and since I’ve always been the safe place for all my nieces and nephews, he ran here.

And the drama got worse. She – the wife – was relentless. She called the cops on him, from Maine. She applied for a PFA because he had, at my direction, cut off some of the bills he had been paying for her. She refused to leave his home, and since it was soon going to be cold, he was going to have a time getting her out – so I told him to make it hard for her to stay. According to her, him stopping paying for internet at a home he couldn’t occupy was “domestic violence.” Can we say “batshit crazy?” Yes, we can, and did, often.

He made a few trips back up there, which I strongly advised against but I’ve come to realize you can’t fix bullheaded idiocy. He was here until March. During that time I came to know him pretty well and let’s just say that the picture I had of this man was a bit off. He lied to me several times – and all my family knows that’s the kiss of death to me. And when my Bear was diagnosed with cancer, my nephew “couldn’t handle it” and headed back to Maine for good.

Yes, I’ve gone no contact with him. That’s one more heartbreak that I’m just not equipped to handle right now. Will I ever talk to him again? Probably, but it won’t be for awhile.

And then the rollercoaster of cancer. I haven’t really processed those memories, and probably won’t for some time. Watching the man who was always the big, strong Bear who took care of everything become more and more dependent, and weaker every day – breaks you into more pieces than anyone can ever put back together.

In the first days of grief, and disbelief, and shock – the last ride on the roller coaster was only 4 months long – there was a funeral, and bills that I didn’t ever deal with, and Maverick, and endless stuff and more phone calls and insurance and cars and finally an attorney because my head spun so hard my neck was permanently twisted.

Then everyone goes home. The house is quiet. No MASH or Andy Griffith, no laughter at stupid jokes that only he and I got. No rushing around to the next thing. I am no longer “MarkandSusan,” I’m just Susan – and I haven’t yet figured out what that means. On Saturday, I woke up crying, came downstairs, went to the sofa, and slept till 1. I could hear Bear telling me to “get a shower, that always makes you feel better.” Even dead, he’s telling me what to do – and dammit, he’s still right. 🙂 A shower helped, but it was like a blanket of sadness had settled over this house and wasn’t going to lift till it was good and ready. Even Maverick was subdued, sleeping, just asking for pets – not his usual pushy “DAMMIT WOMAN, PET ME!!!!!!!!!!!” but just putting his head on my leg and looking at me with those sad eyes.

Grief sucks, in case you didn’t notice.

There have been some moments of not so terrible. I did a lot of sewing on Saturday. That’s always good. And some interesting events because that stuff still happens to me! (There’s a blog post coming about being evacuated from the building the other day at school) (It was fine) I still haven’t made the oatmeal cookies and I won’t today because I have a meeting this afternoon, at the school where Bear worked, to discuss what, if anything, is going to be done about the people who broke all the rules in their effort to punish me for speaking up by going after him. (I’m expecting nothing, this place is notorious for sweeping shit under the rug) Tomorrow is coffee with a friend and class, on Wednesday I have a book club meeting and two GriefShare meetings, Thursday is class again – baking might happen on Friday. But don’t count on it.

And I carry on