Sometimes it's easy to just keep doing things, staying busy and distracting myself. Other times, I just want to sit here and cry. Today, upon getting home and changing out of work clothes, I just got back in bed and cried a bit.
Why me? Why us? Why him? There are other unhealthier people out there, it's so unfair to Lev.
Fixing the unfixable. I just want to fix it and make it better. In my job, that's what I do, solve problems. But this is a problem I can't solve. I can't even figure out why it happened to avoid it in the future. I can't imagine the autopsy is really going to tell us anything helpful, but I still wait for it.
It has been 9 weeks, or two months as of yesterday. It feels like yesterday, yet it also feels like a lifetime ago.
I have never wanted something so badly. I really, really, really want to go back to our old life. I ache for it, yet I can't have it. I just want my Lev back, and I know he'd be pissed ab0ut dying, too. It hurts so much inside, it makes me ache.
So, it's been two months. It feels the same. I suppose I am able to distract myself for longer periods of time. But, other than that it hasn't changed. Although I am not as apt to start crying, I feel the same saddness and am still pretty quick with the tears. I don't feel like I've moved along on any sort of process. I have not accepted his death. I am still waiting for someone to come and tell me there has been a terrible mistake, or I am involved in some cruel reality t.v. show, and if I just give up and tell them I've concede they will give me my old life back.
I hold it together for Jaal. This is supposed to be one of the most exciting, happiest times of his life. He's going off to college, and is really excited about it. Yet, he has lost his brother and his happy parents. He doesn't want to talk about grief anymore, yet it's all we think about. I know he misses Lev a lot, and he says he dreams of him every night. But he doesn't like to really talk about it.
Tony and I do. We could just sit around and talk and be sad together. That's our great empty next plan. Sit around and be really sad. It doesn't sound so bad, really. It sounds appropriate.
Why me? Why us? Why him? There are other unhealthier people out there, it's so unfair to Lev.
Fixing the unfixable. I just want to fix it and make it better. In my job, that's what I do, solve problems. But this is a problem I can't solve. I can't even figure out why it happened to avoid it in the future. I can't imagine the autopsy is really going to tell us anything helpful, but I still wait for it.
It has been 9 weeks, or two months as of yesterday. It feels like yesterday, yet it also feels like a lifetime ago.
I have never wanted something so badly. I really, really, really want to go back to our old life. I ache for it, yet I can't have it. I just want my Lev back, and I know he'd be pissed ab0ut dying, too. It hurts so much inside, it makes me ache.
So, it's been two months. It feels the same. I suppose I am able to distract myself for longer periods of time. But, other than that it hasn't changed. Although I am not as apt to start crying, I feel the same saddness and am still pretty quick with the tears. I don't feel like I've moved along on any sort of process. I have not accepted his death. I am still waiting for someone to come and tell me there has been a terrible mistake, or I am involved in some cruel reality t.v. show, and if I just give up and tell them I've concede they will give me my old life back.
I hold it together for Jaal. This is supposed to be one of the most exciting, happiest times of his life. He's going off to college, and is really excited about it. Yet, he has lost his brother and his happy parents. He doesn't want to talk about grief anymore, yet it's all we think about. I know he misses Lev a lot, and he says he dreams of him every night. But he doesn't like to really talk about it.
Tony and I do. We could just sit around and talk and be sad together. That's our great empty next plan. Sit around and be really sad. It doesn't sound so bad, really. It sounds appropriate.
