Here we go again.

Stating the obvious here, I haven’t written in a while.

Out of respect for my daughter’s dad, I thought it would be best if I took a break from expressing my grief.  We’re not together anymore and haven’t been for a long time.  Writing helps me work some things out in my head, so you may just notice me here more often.

Here I am, once again facing death in it’s face.  I cannot seem to find another way to move through this other than writing (tried painting, tried running), so here goes.

A very close friend passed away a week ago Friday.  A close friend of mine, and he was also a close friend of Mike’s.  I’ve known him for as long as I’ve known Mike, we all worked together at the same place I met my husband.  Since learning the news, I’ve been there in his home with his widow, also a very close friend, and I’ve been reliving the aftermath of death in an all too familiar manner.

The moment I learned of the horrific news, I screamed.  I was thrown into shock.  A shock that lasted for days.  I couldn’t speak.  A friend asked me if I were huggable-I couldn’t even say no, I just shook my head.  I couldn’t eat, I was physically sick to my stomach.  Every single moment of my day and night were consumed with thoughts about this death.

At the time of Mike’s passing, this man and his then fiancée (now wife) were there for me in so many ways.  When I needed stuff done that Mike would have done, I called him.  Replace my rotten porch railing so my new little walker didn’t fall through - I called him.  Drill a hole in my front door for a peephole - I called him.  Clean out the boat rotting away in my backyard - I called him.  Yardwork - I called him.  The list goes on and on.  He was a connection to Mike that was here, tangible, alive.  And though he was a quiet man, he was a profound thinker and always had more going on up there than most anyone knew.  Mike’s passing hit him hard.  He recently opened up to me about not being able to talk to me about Mike because he just couldn’t take it seeing me so upset.  He felt the pain and sorrow I was going through.  And not only that, but he just plain missed Mike.  They were good friends, and I’ll never forget the many evenings we spent at his house eating a freshly speared fish that he’d cooked, or playing games, or drinking beer together.  There was much more depth to this man than most people ever had the privilege of knowing.

I struggle with what to do now.  I see what my friends had to go through with me after Mike died.  There’s a certain balance one needs to find in a situation like this.  Though nothing will change the fact that I’ll be there for my friend, and their children, it tears me up inside the entire time.  I know some of the anguish those sweet innocent children will suffer in years to come.  I have experienced explaining death to a child for years.  It never goes away.  It never gets easier.

It’s so sad.  It’s freaking awful.  It’s unbearable.  It’s unfair.  I can’t believe he chose to leave…

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