Round and round I go, stepping in and out of this reality that you are no longer physically here. My head knows that you will not be coming home and my heart still hopes at times that I have been wrong, that indeed, any time now, you will lean over and kiss my cheek or take my hand.
The last few days have been made difficult by the intrusion of flashbacks of the night you died. It is almost like watching an old rerun without sound, without feeling, without ... I cannot cry, I cannot call out, I simply watch. Some details of that night are becoming fuzzy, others continue to stand out. My head seems to be working overtime to help my heart accept that this is all real, and that I will need to wait a while before I can once again stand with you forever. For the time being, there is a need to return to my life, the life we had started, the life that waits for me.
Remnants of wishing things were different linger in my healing heart.
Journal entry: July 5, 2011
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