Ok, so I'm a compulsive writer. Writing helps me purge my ruminating thoughts. I live primarily in my head, and rarely in the present moment. Tonite, I sense it is time to release the thoughts and perhaps the resulting catharsis will allow me to sleep.
Naturally, I am thinking about Christina. It's been almost thirteen weeks and I am surprised (though, not really) by how hard it is to process and accept that she is gone. On the one hand, it is undeniable. I have the haunting images of what she did, the vague, dream-like memory of her funeral, and of course, all the documentation of her death to solidify the reality of her passing. And, each day passes without seeing or hearing her, adding to the reality of the situation. Still, in spite of all the evidence proving her death, I feel a huge sense of disbelief, as if "this" could not possibly have happened. This is a chapter in my life that I did not anticipate, even though at some level, I always knew it could happen. And yet...I find myself saying to myself, "it just CAN'T be true."
The other day, I was returning home from the store and living my life as if it were unchanged when suddenly, I thought of Christina and thought, "Christina's dead" and it made me shudder, as if hearing it for the first time. It was as if my subconscious was taking it upon itself to remind my conscious mind of the facts. Instantly, that awful image of her hanging from that beam flashed into my mind's eye and I gasped, as if seeing her like that for the first time. Every time that happens, I feel traumatized all over again, like it is registering for the first time.
I find myself self-absorbed in thoughts about her childhood and feel overwhelming guilt for having been spread so thin. Was I EVER available to her?? The guilt just keeps building and building within me and I wonder if I will ever be able to escape the sense of failure. I failed her. I did not provide what she needed. I could not be what she wanted in a mother. I let her down. I brought her into the world, and she resented it.
Then, as if reality is just too harsh, my thoughts wander into more philosophical and metaphysical realms in regards to Christina. Who was she? What were her past lives like (assuming reincarnation is true) and what residual pain did she bring with her into this one? It often seemed as if her soul was grieving - even from her infancy and early childhood. So much sadness there. And so I question The Universe, wondering about Life, spirits, heaven, god, eternity, and our divine purpose - or if any of those things are even real.
Since losing Christina, I have a much more profound need to know the answers to Life's questions, yet am equally frustrated by the realization that I will NEVER know. Do I really think I am the first to wonder what happens after death or to want proof of eternal survival of the soul?? And not being able to have those answers angers and frustrates me. It is no longer good enough to theorize and have have suspicions about the afterlife; I need proof. And there is none. No proof exists. It all requires a leap of faith, which I refuse to give in to. That is far too dangerous. Somehow, I will need to accept the not-knowing and not being able to know for certain. But at this moment, I struggle with it all.
More than anything, I miss her and still cannot fully comprehend and accept that she left us - forever. Forever gone. NO! I cannot fathom that! I want so badly to scream. I want so badly to just fall apart and sob uncontrollably...and feel guilt because I've not done that. Guilt. Always more guilt. But the screams remain within me. There has been neither opportunity nor a safe space to let it out freely. It scares people. It will even scare me, if and when it should happen. And yet, I know it is eventual.
I need to spend an afternoon at her gravesite - alone. This much, I know for certain. I need to talk to her, even though I realize she won't be "there" to hear me. Or will she?? In spirit form, will she, can she, might she be there?? It's what I hope, but cannot prove. It's gonna require that leap of faith. Ugh!! So I tell myself that I should just do it, just in case she can somehow be aware. And if not, at the very least, I might experience some catharsis. Some relief. Some peace and healing. Maybe just staring at her gravesite will help me process the truth of her death.
But for now, it is still very unreal. It is still difficult to truly accept. Life - all the demands of daily life - get in the way and distract me from processing the facts. And perhaps that is WHY I continue to be haunted by the evidence...
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