war

Woke up this morning feeling overwhelmed. Sleep is a welcoming shroud to be held tightly wrapped around me until the buffeting winds of grief pull it from me. Only when I am no longer able to keep thoughts of Josh from invading the space between slumber and wakefulness do I force myself to get up and stumble to the coffee maker with his memories swirling in the wake of each step like the autumn leaves he loved so much.

Today I will continue shutting down his life. I will call the gas company and fax his death certificate to the electric company. I will go to his home and begin taking inventory of his possessions in order to figure out how many boxes we will need to pack them up. Before I’ve even begun, I’ve entered into that strange realm of denial where he is going to get pissed when he sees what I’m doing. Reminding myself repeatedly that I’m not the one ending his life, HE already ended it three weeks ago.

The books and pamphlets say I’m not crazy, these thoughts incessantly pinging through my mind are “normal” for my situation. His girlfriend refers to it as waging war with her mind. I would tend to agree, only adding the sense of standing on a precipice while doing it.