That is what I figured, but I don't think it has happened that way. I don't feel it. I'm not living, merely existing.
I still cry going to and from get-togethers, I still shake my head to dislodge the visions, I still struggle with the fact that it even happened...the accident. And worst of all, I honestly don't feel I have truly, fully accepted and mourned the deaths of you and Evelyn. Especially Evelyn. And me, looking my own death in the face, and then not. That what happened really, in all it's horrificness, happened. That what I saw and survived really actually happened. It is still a very real fear that if I 'go there' I will never come back.
I've wondered about my visions, about why they won't stop. And the sounds, the tremendous roar of the ocean, the screams, the wind, and the sputtering and choking...it's all too much. And yet I am thankful that I no longer smell it, because for many months after, I saw, heard and smelled that day. What I've wondered is, are these sights and sounds in some ways like hands pulling me back to the beginning, insisting that I go frame by frame...moment by moment through it all again in order for it to become absorbed as it should be. I've wondered, but I'm not willing. Do you think I should?
There are days I think my brain will surely explode with all that is going on in there. I hold my temples often thinking 'how do I make it stop'? I'm not one for a 'quick fix' pill for anything in life, but I believe if there was one to make the brain train stop, I would swallow it happily.
Do you see me David? I know you probably don't recognize me but I thought maybe the heartstrings let you know it's me. That under all this rubble the heart that loves you and misses you and longs for you is still there beating it's song meant only for you.
Come find me love, find me once again and tell me what to do.
Tell me how to keep going...
