My Dearest Love Ilya (Pt. I)💔

It’s been 678 days since I last blogged! Life has been relentless… with trial after trial happening to, I mean for me. Maybe you know by now or maybe this write will carry some new news. Whatever the case, the last 477 days have been the most torturous and painful days of my existence.

12/24/2019 was the worst day of my life. On that morning, I answered a call that no wife should ever have to receive. “Ilya is dead! And so my journey of mourning commenced. My dearest love Ilya was found deceased on a street in NYC and no one had any answers. In efforts to not relive that moment again, I will refrain from describing it now. As I try to healthily work through the mountain of emotions that plague my mind daily, I’ll keep the details about my love’s death out of this piece and future writes until I’m better. What I will say is that my heart is shattered, the world has been so unkind, and I was pushed to find a new way to survive alone; without the one person who I believed to be my person… my soulmate, the man I would live out the rest of my days with. I guess the heavens said otherwise and here I stay trying to cope.

Unless you walk this walk of grieving the loss of a spouse, you could never fully understand it. It gets ugly, competitive, territorial, unempathetic; creates a feeling of doom for the people who live it and discomfort for those who watch. It becomes increasingly painful and downright lonely. As a griever, I felt that I was out of sight and out of mind for months. As Ilya’s wife, I felt that my grief was often measured and viewed to be not as bad as the parents or relatives. “But he was my son”, “but we knew him longer”, “but this is not your culture” “but your daughter is not his daughter”… just a few of the dismissive and insensitive comments that met me days into my grief journey. Forced to learn a culture I did not grow up in, without my dearest love to guide me; judged because of the color of my skin and my customs; excluded for reasons that were purely evil; embarrassed; humiliated; blamed; lied on… shall I go on? I could continue but the energy escapes me each time I recount the last year and half of my life. As the one living this new existence, it initially seemed that it was my burden to carry and no one else could fathom what I felt. Most people went back to their daily routines and old habits minutes after my love’s young but tired body was placed in the ground. My children and I were left stuck in a painful place in time where it felt like life was not worth living.

I one day decided to find an improved and healthier way to grieve after my “mini me” said to me “mom please do something to feel better, I hate seeing you like this.” Her voice triggered something within me and maternal instinct helped me realize that my pain was harming my children. I knew that I had to save myself and my children because no one was coming to be our savior. The one person that consistently gave us unwavering love and protection was now gone. Today I find myself in a new and unfamiliar place. I am vulnerable and learning this version of Tea now. Each day I dedicate small amounts of time to journal this journey as my story will one day be told in full detail. For now, it carries so much pain that I am only capable of blurbs and rambles. There is so much to share about losing my dearest love from receiving the news, to a messy police investigation, to the burial and religious process, to the COVID-19 impact on the investigation and grieving process, to family scandal, to the mass exodus of friends, to signs from Ilya; and the path to healing my soul with my children’s gentleness and love, and Ilya’s love and spiritual guidance from beyond the veil. I have compiled my thoughts, painful experiences, and letters into what will be a book published in 2022, titled Grief Games: A Widow’s Story of Pain & Abandonment (part 1 of a 5 part series). I have also shared my story via different platforms including Instagram (@amillennial_mom) connecting with people who can relate and those who sit in shock. My children, writing, meditation, faith, and social connection with new souls has been my saving grace during this time.

I never saw this day coming… the death of my love or the aftermath. After 477 days without my dearest love Ilya, his life, our life, this life makes so much more sense. Although I continue to grieve, I can say that I have pulled myself out of the darkest time in my life and continue to work daily to find the light. This will indeed be a process for the rest of my life and I will share my story to help at least one person through the process of surviving the death of a loved one. It is very clear to me now that many people fail to survive the grief journey for it is torturous, unpredictable, lonely, dark, and unending. In my case, I’m convinced that I have found strength to carry on with my love watching over and Hashem guiding the way. For I now see light (hope) at the end of this dark place and commit to waking up every day to finish this race. My pain and struggle are not in vain and my experience is for me and for someone else to learn and grow from. Even with a shattered heart, I am dedicated to doing what I have been called to do: bring healing to masses.

I’m not sure what is to come next… in life, for this blog… anything. But I am working each day to just get through each moment. As I can and when I can, I will share more of our story. Until then, I commit to healing my soul so that I can heal my children, so that together we can spread an abundance of love and healing to the world; just like Papa would have wanted us to do. There are one too many hurt people hurting people these days and our life story and grief journey is symbolic of that. Stay tuned for the continuation of this series. Until next time….

Love & light to the world,

Tea