Action at a distance

If one particle gets hit, sometimes it splits into two particles, with
each half flying off in opposite directions. One spins clockwise, the
other counterclockwise. You cannot tell which is spinning in each
direction until you observe one of them. Once you observe one, its
direction is instantly fixed, because that is how the laws of quantum
theory work. When you observe one particle spinning one direction, you
instantly fix the spin of the other particle in the opposite
direction, even if it is light years away. It seems impossible, this
"action at a distance", but that is what the theory tells us.

One explanation is that when the universe was created in the big bang,
it expanded in three dimensions, but the other dimensions stayed
compressed. So if this is really a ten dimensional world, it is as if
the universe is still all in one place. So those spinning particles
are actually right next to each other, at least in 8 dimensions.

When I saw Lev dead on the operating table, my life split apart. Part
of me is still right there, unable to move on, unwilling to comprehend
what happened. The other part of me keeps going, partially through
inertia, but also compelled by the feeling that life is still worth
living despite our immense loss. I am here now, but I also remain in
that horrible frozen moment. In some multi-dimensional way, Lev and I
will always be together. I feel more love for him than ever; it
transcends all dimensions.

Going off trail

Hiking in Yakima last weekend, looking for peace. We went off trail and thought of Lev, and sent Jaal this picture. I miss hiking with the boys.

Rebecca

gaps in time

The gaps in time, when I feel blank, in a fog, or fake, become longer.
The sadness is no less intense, just absent for a bit at times.

I look at the stairs, awaiting his descent.
I think of our last morning together and am tormented by my inability to help him.
I wonder if a vaccine that hadn't been offered might have saved him.
I am sorry for my failure as his protector.
I don't understand why so many others are allowed to live and he was not.

I feel vacant, floating through the days.

Might it all be a bad joke?

It's not funny.

Rebecca

nothing new

Sometimes I feel that I have nothing new to write, so I don't write. But it doesn't mean we are doing "better."
I still struggle with our reality. I am having trouble understanding that we won't see Lev again. It seems magical when we text or call Jaal and he answers, and he is doing just fine. Then, Lev is gone, too , but we can never call or text or visit him. Maybe Jaal's departure this fall for college made it more confusing for me. Being gone and being gone forever are very different and sometimes I get confused.
I still cry whenever I have a little silent time alone, like on a bus, on a walk, etc.
It feels good to cry, but the emotion is so strong, the missing him, that it is hard to hold on to. My mind tries to move on to another topic, as it is too painful.

Last weekend we went away, to Roslyn and Yakima, as Tony had two gigs. It was nice to go away, but it was also difficult. The first gig was at the Brick, and the last time we were there it was with Jaal and Lev. We stayed up in the apartment behind the bar, and from the window you could look down at the band play. It was great because Lev and Jaal didn't get to see the band play very often since they weren't 21. We had had such a nice time, going for a cool hike afterwards around some interesting rock formations. Being there without Lev was sad and I ended up going back to the hotel early to cry and sleep.

What bothered me as much as looking at the damn window was this one woman and her husband. She looked like a really nice person, having a great time. She was a good dancer, and was smiling and dancing, and she looked so happy it made me upset. She was gleeful, appearing to be without a care in the world, and I was feeling bitter and angry. I'm a bit less bitter this week, with a return to more sadness, emptiness and loss instead of as much anger.

The next night was in Yakima, and we ended up taking a detour through the Yakima canyon, which was beautiful. We returned there on Sunday to go for a hike, and that was quite nice. It always makes us feel better to be in nature.

But Saturday night I again chose to leave the gig early. This time before Tony even started playing. We were there early, so we got some food and then took a little walk around town. We stopped in at a nice bar for a drink with Adam, and they had lemon martinis on special. I ended up having two, which didn't seem like too much. A little bit later, back at the gig I went to the bathroom and started crying, and then I just couldn't
stop. At the bar, Tony and I were talking and I just couldn't stop crying. Usually I will cry myself out pretty quickly and be functional, but I could see it was not going to be a good night, so Tony walked me back to the hotel before the show and I was fine there.

I wasn't sure I'd make it to work on Monday, but I did. And before I got to think about anything we discovered someone had shot a battery though a window, spewing glass all over the classroom, and someone walked in with poop on their shoes, and a teacher was out sick without sub plans. So the week began and keeps on going.

Rebecca

The Fact

Sometimes I will be thinking about things, with the normal facts running across my brain. Then all of a sudden The Fact will appear: Lev is dead. It dwarves everything else, it makes all other facts trivial and irrelevant. It is so big that I don't know where to put it. I have to stop and give it the attention it deserves.

I know at some level that I have not fully acknowledged The Fact yet. Yet every once in a while, in a moment of clarity, I truly understand what has happened, and it devastates me. But before that moment of enlightenment can fully manifest itself, my brain shuts down, to protect itself from the naked horror. It is frustrating, since I want to know the truth, at any cost. Perhaps one day I can get there. In the meantime all I can do is think about Lev and allow myself to miss him terribly.