It’s obvious that I’m in it deep.

Yesterday, I freaked out on my oldest daughter, for moving his toothbrush. Just for moving it. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING??!!”, I screamed at her. I screamed it so much I blanked out for a second. Who was I screaming at? Why was I freaking out?

To some, it may be obvious. To others, it’s probably not as much.

His clothes still hang in our closet. His boots, his shoes, waiting to be worn again. His dirty laundry remains unwashed. And a movement of his things means he’s really gone. I’m lying to myself if I think I’m accepting that concept, even a little bit, yet.

I am not. I realized it yesterday when I lost myself. I freaked out on Aurora, and then my mother, for putting things in the wrong place. I realize that I’m trying to keep him here, the way he would want it, instead of accepting that he’s not here anymore. And no matter how much I know that intellectually, my heart is in complete denial.

It has to be. How else can I function? How else can I keep moving forward, if I don’t think of what he would do or say about every single thing. And it’s getting worse. I am CONSTANTLY thinking about his opinion about everything I think. I hear his answers in my head, and I argue with him when I know he would argue with me. I feel him everywhere I go, but not as a loving companion. He’s more like a distant memory. Something I cannot have anymore, but I desperately need.

This morning, before the sun rose, I took my oldest daughter to the airport to catch her first connecting flight to see her father. For the first time ever, she was afraid. She’s a seasoned traveler, having traveled with me overseas to Germany 4 times, round-trip. She’s flown back and fourth to GA since 2006, when her father moved there permanently. She knows the ins and outs of flying on her own.

But she was nervous. I hate to admit it being because of me. She’s too over-protective of me, but I can hardly blame her. Death spent the night in her home.  She has lived in it’s shadow for over two weeks now, like the rest of us, and she is confused as to why. She isn’t satisfied with the “God’s perfect will” answer, either. I’m starting to wonder if I am too. Leaving me here, with the aftermath of this tragedy scares her. What will she come home to?

I prayed for her, and with her, before she boarded the plane. I did it for her comfort, as well as mine, and I fought the small voices of despair, reminding me that this is the first time I have ever dropped her off at the airport without Jon by my side. I fought the tears as her plane took off, and I tried hard not to wonder if prayer is any help at all.

I get that God has a plan for the lives of all people. That’s fine and dandy. But if that’s the case; why pray? What is the point? It’s not that I don’t want my prayers answered, because I really do. But I prayed harder than I have in a LONG time for Jon’s life, and God outright refused to give me a yes answer to my prayers. What did I pray wrong? What was I supposed to learn? All it seems that I’ve learned is that God is in control, and will do as He sees fit. Prayer or no prayer.

Last night, I went out with my friend Stephanie for a few beers. Everyone has been wanting a beer with me lately, and I’ve been more inclined to oblige them than hide out. It’s a nice escape from the reality that is relentless in it’s pursuit of my unhappiness. And with a few beers in me, it doesn’t hurt quite as badly to know that I will come home, and he will not be here. With a few beers in me, I suddenly accept that I’ll move on with a new life much easier than I ever thought I would. And as the beers become cathartic, the night tells me it’s lies. Denial grows in like a vine, and even the truth of my life becomes myopic.  I can lie to myself more convincingly.

But the sun once again crested over the eastern mountains, and everything became clear. It didn’t matter that I didn’t sleep, and that I didn’t have the luxury of dreams. It hit me just as hard, and just as direct.

Denial is a vampire. It sucks the life out of you, and makes you a slave to it’s fallacies. And then it leaves you, as it turns to ash in the sun.