Gut wrenching

Sometimes my gut still hurts so much from missing Lev.

Maybe it's worse because it's fall and school started without him
Maybe it's worse because he is missing his senior year
Maybe it's worse because Jaal went back to school
Maybe it's worse because I am thinking about grief group
Maybe it's worse because the season is changing
Maybe it's worse because I ate a banana without him today

Maybe it's just the normal yo-yo of grief and some days or weeks are worse than others.

I think I will feel better in another decade or so.

I hope when I do feel less gut wrenching pain it's not because I have forgotten

Everything's okay...

Last night, Jaal drove up with his girlfriend, Melinda, from Olympia with a trailer to pack for his move back to school. He's headed back after being home for the summer. It's only an hour and a half away, so we shouldn't be so sad about his leaving. But, since it's all tied in with Lev's never coming back, it's always much sadder than it should be.  Jaal got in after 10pm (as expected) and Tony and I had already gone to bed. We weren't asleep yet, and Tony got up to make sure everything was okay. 

Tony came back and said, "Don't worry, everything's okay." And I thought, "I'm glad to hear it, I know what you mean, but everything will never be okay." We had our own private apocalypse and we are trying to rebuild through the ashes. At its core, life will never be all okay again. I so want everything to be okay, and I know it never will. The feeling in my gut tells the truth.

While everything isn't okay, some things are great. Having Liana has been wonderful. After my initial resistance to risk more heartache and fall in love, I have fallen for her completely. She has already brought more smiles and joy than I thought we'd ever have again. And Jaal continues to grow into a wonderful person, fun to be around. It has been great having him home. 

Yet, it doesn't eliminate the despair, loneliness, and heartache. I want Lev to be coming home from school soon, too. I want everything to be okay. We try so hard to make the best of what we have; I try to be resilient, yet it is still hard to live each day with the pain of his absence. I don't know how we do it -maybe it's a little denial, a little hope, and a bunch of instinct.

I wonder if I make it to 90, will I look back and think "Everything's okay"? I don't think so, I think it will always have a "but".