On the bad days, the emotional ups and downs can be intense – even brutal -- and it's hard predicting the triggers. Sometimes, it can be a particular kind of perfume, or a song, or like last night, a simple conversation with a person who knew Craig while at OSU. Whatever the case, the feeling of loss is profound and impressive. And it's in these moments that I wish I could simply call my brother or mom. To know that's now an eternal impossibility is hard to grasp or come to terms with. Some liken this kind of loss as a breakup on steroids. But, with a breakup, there's always the possibility of future memories. This kind of breakup lasts, lasts, and then lasts some more. Earlier this evening, I had to stop myself from asking Diane if she had spoken with Craig. Old habits are hard to break, I suppose.
On the bad days, I’m not sure what living my own life consists of; it's been a while. I feel a bit wayward with no fixed roots. Though it'd be nice to settle here, I can't help but feel that settling would be...settling. At the same time, I feel isolated and lost. My sense of being, time, and permanence has been upended. What was once a firm understanding of “what is” has morphed into a jumbled mess of “not sures” or metaphysical chaos. My knowledge of life now includes a family of four. Happiness requires a new level of abstraction. The future consists of confusing cross-roads of options and alternatives – a smorgasbord of indecision.
On the bad days, I feel like I’m on shaky terrain, as if my continental shelf is narrow, with family and friends forming a thin rocky bottom on which to stand. But then the ground drops.
As they say, the bad days too shall pass -- and they do. It stinks to be in the gutter, but, thankfully, it’s not a permanent state of being. There’s always tomorrow… --J
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