The Upside of Death

I wanted so much to feel better this weekend and to let go just a little bit more. I didn't. I know I need to. I know that's what's best for The Kid and for me. But, I can't bring myself to do that. I feel like I need him more now than ever. I want to look into that sweet face and know that everything will be ok. I know that I need to be able to do that for myself. I can't. Not yet anyway.

I think to myself, if he'd died just a few months later. After the mishogos in my life passed, I'd have better coping skills. Intellectually I know that isn't true. There's never a best time to die. It's not like you wake up and say today would be the perfect day to peel. Ga'head, die.

I am riddled in, and burdened with insurmountable guilt for not letting go and for wishing he was here. I want so much not to feel this way. I just can't seem to find my way past the grief.

I'll spend hours and days just thinking of him and disecting the past, wishing I could have just a bit more time. Maybe if things were easier at the time of his death or during this time in my life, his death wouldn't have ripped me to shreds.

I don't have the answers to any of the questions I had on August 1st when he died. I just know that when I'm at home, I'm surrounded by his things and it brings me comfort. I know that letting go terrifies me. Until I know why I guess it is what it is until it isn't what it is anymore. I know that's very Who's on First of me to say. Still. It's pretty damn true.

Letting Go... Not

My dog has been dead since August 1st and today is November 7th. I vacillated between sadness and anger for about 6 weeks. Now, I'm just angry. Angry.Angry.Angry.

I'm angry at him for dying. He wasn't supposed to die. That was never the plan. Intellectually, I knew he'd die. I just never really believed he'd die. He struck me as invincible. He's not supposed to be dead. He's just not. But, he is and I cannot get past it. I can't let go.

He was the one person I could count on to be there -- always. He was my continuity, my friend, my son, and my muse and now he's dead. No joke dead. He's sitting in a can cremated dead. Dead enough fah'ya?

I'm angry at myself because I can't let go and I feel that undermines the life I gave to him and ultimately took from him. I worry that he's not resting peacefully or has reached his final destination because of my total inability to let him go and move past my anger.

I wish I could get past this. I wish I could feel better. I wish it could hurt less. It doesn't. I wish that I could just hang out with him for 5 more minutes. I wish I could stop crying. Life is a big ugly mess and it is meaningless without the kid. Or, today is just a bad day.