Sand castles

Every day brings more closure to Josh’s life, makes his death more of an excruciating fact of my life. My heart and mind rail against the necessity of the phone calls, the faxes, the planning and organizing of his removal from day to day existence.

Yesterday I spent half an hour on the phone with his cell phone company in an attempt to capture his voice mail message in a retainable way. In the end the lovely ladies at US Cellular were able to send it to me in an E-mail message and the call ended with all of us crying. The kindness of others, the concern and sympathy of complete strangers never fails to de-rail me and though I certainly wish none of it were necessary, it is a balm to my soul.

Butch and I met with our grief counselor in the afternoon. When we went in I was feeling drained and hopeless but after an hour of talking to her I came away feeling somewhat more buoyed, more resistant to the constant barrage of tears and anguish. The conflict waging in my head was quieter.

The miniscule moments of peace are the only thing holding me together on most days. Grief feels like a surf, whipped up by hurricane force winds, pounding against the edges of my sanity. It washes me out to sea one grain of normalcy at a time. During the calm moments I rally slightly and build my emotional castle walls higher and dig the moat deeper, but in the end, the rising waves of grief return and my reinforcements are no match against their power. The days stretch before me in endless repetition of repeating this same act of folly over and over, yet I see no alternative other than to surrender to the storm. So, armed with a plastic pail of resolve and a shovel made of broken dreams, I work on getting through today.