Whiplash

I got home Sunday night. The boys have been with their father the last three nights. We met halfway between home and my hometown Saturday afternoon to trade the boys so I could go back to my hometown to be with my grandfather on his deathbed. The STBEX offered to make the two-hour drive to my hometown to come get them. That was nice. Not really surprising. He's a nice guy like that. That's why I loved him after all.  But then also in character is the fact that he said he was able to leave to come get them in 30 minutes and didn't actually  leave for nearly two hours, which made me have to drive a lot farther and then wait at the halfway point for nearly an hour and then miss being back by my grandpa's side by 15 minutes.  I get that it doesn't matter, but there's just been SO much this past week. Accidentally finding his love notes to me while looking for something else, reading that Divorce is a Mitzvah book, Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, my grandfather's death, looking at old pictures which include us as I look for things for my grandfather's funeral, being alone in this grief not only without a partner but as a spiritual oddity among my family of origin. Needing to grieve in a Jewish way amongst non-Jews who have a very different understanding of grief. Lighting Chanukah candles by myself at home. A very good comfortable conversation with the STBEX about parenting and the funeral and whatnot where it felt like old times and that alone makes it so fucking hard that I had to get off the phone. 

All this piled up makes me feel like I've been in a major emotional train wreck accident this week.  I just can't drag myself out of bed this morning. That's often harder when the boys aren't here, but particularly this morning. All these events seem to have thrown me back months and months in this grieving/healing process. 

That lovely sense of resiliency last week is but a dream.