Tonight we had our Sandcastles grief meeting. James and Nicole were tired and, at first, didn't want to go but I think they are glad they went. Me... well I don't want to be there and I don't want to talk but I do listen. I just can't believe, at this point, that it will get better.
We went around the table(s..for there are far too many fathers, mothers, daughters and sons lost too soon) discussing plans for Christmas. Each person had to say their intentions, what they were thinking about doing, what worked/didn't work for them. It got to me and I really couldn't think of much to say. Only that it's a little bit like standing on the deck of the Titanic as it sank. The water is the holidays. I know I am rushing toward them as I grip the railing, trying to find purchase and a way to stay out of that bitter water. That analogy came to me the other day as I watched that film with James.
What it is that I am trying to write about for myself for Nanoblopomo and to attempt to heal a little bit is what happened the day that I lost him, how I lost him and the affect it has had and the reasons why this is so difficult for me. It hits again and again. Waking up each morning thinking that this is the day I wake up from the dream. Talking to friends of his/ours that still can't believe it to be true. All while trying to maintain a game face for a little boy who wants (and needs) a holiday...some happiness...some normal. I have to do this.