On Grief

It seems like no time and a long time since we lost the Double B's Dad. Like any great loss, there is a 'before' and an 'after'.
Because he'd lived such a good life and was so old and had many brushes with death, it wasn't totally unexpected, but it still came quickly when it came and left us without that pillar.
I am thankful for the tender times that came with that in our marriage, that I could be there for my beloved and he could be there for me with such an emotional loss. But I also knew it would cause some turbulence, even if his passing was not totally unexpected. And it has.
It just occurred to me tonight how much it is affecting us, really.
Maybe more for me then for my BB, because he's been preparing for this from a very early age. But maybe not. For the most part the Double B feels very at peace and relieved his Dad is not suffering, so I believe it is really on a subconscious level that it shakes things for him (he'll probably disagree with me when he finally reads this in fifty years or so. But too bad. I'm the author here).
But I know it is deeply needling me, and I haven't realized how very much.
The whole reason I started this blog eight years ago was so I could deal with my grief over losing my grandma. I had to write, I had to let it out. I had to be real. I need to do that again. Embrace the writing and the need to express instead of running from it. That it's okay, and normal, and if I let it out it could be cathartic and healing.
As a couple, we are certainly more aggrevated with each other then usual. More petty annoyances, and things said a little more sharply then normal. A general lack of communication. This has troubled me and annoyed the heck out of me, but when I look back, the same thing happened in our marriage in other times of grief. It's almost like our symptom.
As an individual, I am seeing it's effects. I have been dealing with massive anxiety lately. And have made a revisit into the old land of panic attacks brought on by nothing, like I haven't had for almost ten years. It is incredibly frustrating. I sincerely hate panic attacks. I realized this morning at five o'clock after panicking in my bed (while minding my own business and doing nothing to bring it on), that I truly hate them. It happens at lightning speed -- so fast. As I'm at that apex and then finally coming down from it -- feeling like I need to run and fight for my own life and I'm not even in danger -- I feel an absolute loathing and even tell God in my anger that I hate this life. In that moment it is painful and briefly true. Which makes me sad, because I've always been a lover of life. Then I come back, so I tell him sorry, I don't hate life, I just really hate that experience.
I was sitting here tonight feeling very tightly wound and wondering what on earth is creating that unrest in me. And then I realized. We had a big shake up in September. I miss Dad a lot. He was my friend, and I loved him, and I miss him a lot. I need to expect and understand it will influence me deeply, on the outside and on the inside. Physical loss, emotional loss, mental loss. Even when it's not obvious, even to yourself, it is lying underneath. If there is some mental anguish that follows losing him, it's a small price to pay for having had him.
I am glad I realized tonight it all fits together so that I can try to be patient with the after shocks.
The Double B and I process things very differently. Times like this just really emphasize that. And why would that not be okay? It IS okay. We'll just keep loving each other. I'll keep taking deep breaths and practicing my yoga poses, or whatever new fangled idea I've come up with that day.
Dad is loved. And that's not a bad thing. It's a very, very good thing.