I wrote this a couple weeks after losing her. I couldn't share this earlier -- it smarted too much -- but I can now that enough time has passed. I've also been thinking a lot about death because, well, I'm morbid like that sometimes. And also I know a lot of family & friends who've been in rough places.
This morning I woke up and looked at the clock... it said 7:48 and I thought oh god, that was her phone number. For the rest of the day, a giant hole widened within. Why? Everyone asks why. It's too cliche for me to be asking it too but I can't help it. I also can't help but morbidly imagine everyone I love disappearing, even the dog and parakeets. To write about this almost seems useless. It's a way of trying to capture the grief and emptiness and pin it down, trap it on paper. But words aren't adequate and I find myself feeling even more lost.
Sometimes I try to understand how grave this is. Almost like if I can comprehend it all now then the next 12 months will be easier. But I just can't make it happen, can't wrap my mind around it. I still don't feel like it's real. I know that's common, that this is the first stage of grief, but that doesn't help. I'm being stubborn and incorrigible. I don't even want it to help. I want to feel the pain stabbing as an honor to her memory. Yeah, hurt bad. She meant so much she doesn't deserve less.
My insides are at war. Everyone experiences death. Look at what poor R went through last year, and L several years ago. A. Was I there for them? Did I understand? Did I stupidly try to comfort them by distracting them with drivel? Loss sucks. I have little experience with this and I'm scared. How many more times in my life will I experience this? The alternative is also horrid, that anyone should feel this way about losing me.
For the next however many years I am going to have to crawl through time with the only comfort that next year the pain will be less sharp, although that's only an abstract thought of little comfort now.
I will make it through this next year. I will get up and shower and go to the bank and walk the dog and buy milk and work.
I will do all these things but my self, my feelings that are centered around this tragedy, will be in a messy heap on the floor of my mind.