I don't feel as though I can be poetic yet, or elegant. But I don't think I will be writing about much else for awhile so one day it may come--a reflection. Now though, I just want to record what THIS is.
I still don't think it has fully hit me yet, which is terrifying. I am waiting for the moment when it hits me full on that she is gone and I can't breathe and I can't function, because I know it will come but the mystery is when... it keeps me on my toes.
Waking up this morning, on the couch since I couldn't sleep in her room, I felt like lead and I couldn't focus on anything, I wasn't thinking about anything, but I couldn't move.
After a couple hours I made it to the breakfast table where Alison told me that I had marks on my face where my tears had fallen and I couldn't wipe them away. I managed to eat a small pancake and then slowly exited from the haze until I was able to take a shower and exist as normal.
I felt weird about this, how normal I felt, how people around me were crying and I wondered if somehow I had done enough of my grieving beforehand to move forward somewhat seamlessly.
Another hour passed and I felt a little sad, the kind of sad I feel on really bad days, the sad I am used to. But it moved down my throat and seeped throughout my body, a heaviness (like lead again) pushing through my veins. My vision began to blur and I lost most of the awareness of my surroundings. My chest tightened and a mild nausea set in. My eyes well and tears fell from my eyes... not crying, exactly, but just nearly constant tears.
I didn't quite understand when people told me grief came in waves, like nausea. It is all too clear, now.
I will not return to Hendrix this semester, I will simply try to return to any basic form of life and go from there–grow into it again. I know I will be different though, it will all be different.
For now the difference just makes me feel sick.
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