It was supposed to be a nightmare. One of those horrible, nonsensical fever dreams that goes along with the flu–which is what I feel like I have at this point. I keep getting chilled and achy. But I woke this morning as I went to bed–sobbing. There was no instant of forgetting, no moment where I didn’t remember. Sleep was sporadic and poor. Probably will be for a while. My stomach won’t tolerate anything more than water. My husband took off work today, and he’ll probably spend the entire day sitting in his chair reliving the whole thing. I could see it on his face last night. I came on to work, mostly because if I stayed home, our grief would just feed off each other, and I have deadlines. Not that I’m really getting anything done here either. But at home there are reminders everywhere–only one where there should be two. She was so much a part of the fabric of our lives that all we can see are tatters and holes.
And all I keep hearing is the hysterical anguish in my husband’s voice when he called me yesterday.