It's been 2 years and almost 3 months to the day since I lost Josh. My mom called me the night she found him lifeless in the floor. And as my neighbor drove Abbie and I over there, I prayed as hard as I've ever prayed in my life. But somehow there was this stillness inside of me saying "he's gone". And since the day he left, it's almost been like he's been gone for years. I've always kind of seen it as a coping mechanism. Because to remember what it was like to have him here hurts so much that it's usually unbearable. To go back and remember what it was like for him to come walking through my back door or to have him play with my daughter is just too much. I can't remember what it's like to be able to call him and to hear his voice... to see him sleeping in my living room or to sit down and talk with him. I lost that almost as soon as he was gone.
But sometimes I go back there and I wonder "where am I in this process?" It seems as if I've been in acceptance for so long now. And I went through my stages. I was furious. I was depressed and I was angry. But sometimes I still feel like I never got past "that" place.
I have days where I can talk about Josh's death and go to his grave and it doesn't phase me. But it's when I talk about Josh's life that this weight feels like it's pressing me down into an unbelievably deep hole. And maybe these are thoughts better saved for a counselor. But it was on my mind. I'm not sure where I'm at 27 months later. But hopefully I figure it out one day.
