So, About Last Year . . .

2017 was the worst year of my life. 2017 was the best year of my life. 

We are taught that it was not a good thing that "Bikeish Yaakov leisheiv b'shalva." This world is not about drifting along in peaceful contentment. 

Yet that was always my dream. I love routine. I don't need excitement. I am leery of change. Simultaneously, I expect doom. Ergo posts like this one, where I stress the importance of mental preparation for hardship. 

But my life was pretty good. Sure, dating was frustrating, but everything else was kinda awesome. 

Until the storm hit. 

Ma got sick. It was sudden and swift. No known cause. No known cure. 

She died. 

All of my days, I have been guilty of "foreboding joy," as Brené would say. If anyone was five minutes late, my go-to was "car crash." Yet when the "crash" did happen, I was shocked. 

But as I struggled in the raging waters, the Eibishter threw me a life preserver. Two weeks into my mother's illness, Han materialized on my doorstep. He fished me out and kept me going when I had to keep on keepin' on. 

We're married now. What is for sure, our story is our story, no one else's.

What flummoxes Luke and I is our seemingly calm acceptance of Ma's passing. Luckily, "there is no right or wrong in grief," or else we'd feel like freaks. I handled a major breakup worse.

Perhaps all those years of listening to the family guru, of reading, seeking out shiurim, did help? That it did prepare us, on some level, for major loss? I don't know. I hope I have achieved that level of emunah and gratitude.

What we have struggled with more is how death reveals people in a whole new light. Those who are close to you may fail you. Those who you had no faith in can rise to the occasion. Hurtful words were said to my family. But perfect comforting words were spoken as well. It's disheartening and uplifting at the same time.

Another lesson I learned—and continue to learn—is this: we have no control. Obviously I had no control over Ma's death. But regarding my bashert, I did not find Han. He was sent. I had no input in his arrival. His appearance was not of my doing. 

If we step back, and focus on that which we can control—our speech, our reactions, our role in relationships, how we serve Hashem—then we will shed frustration and gain contentment. We have to do what we have to do, and the Bashefer takes care of the rest, whatever it is.