Day #11

Acceptance: a person's assent to the reality of a situation, recognizing its process, condition or circumstances. 

Today I've been struggling with acceptance. No, that's not quite right. I'm not challenging the notion of acceptance but wresting with whether or not I've truly accepted what has happened. 

On the one hand, I'm able to view this clinically - someone has died - and understand what this means in scientific terms - this person is physically gone and will never return. I can do this all day long. And I have and I do. 

On the other hand, I have to personalize it - my son Damian is dead - and try to understand what this means to my life - Damian is physically gone and will never return. No new memories will be made with him at the center. 

Although I can write these words, it feels like I'm writing about someone else. It's a feeling of detachment. Almost like a distant relative that I didn't know very well but, for some reason, still have lots of memories of. Maybe this is a defense mechanism of the mind. To compartmentalize. To isolate. Whatever it is, it feels strange. Could be that I'm still in shock. 

Getting back to the topic at hand - acceptance - I'm now worried that I've already accepted it and have moved on. It's only been 11 days, and hey, look at me, I'm able to function like nothing happened. I can make breakfast; I can clean the refrigerator and the pantry; I can go out to eat. There's nothing I can't do. Including cry, apparently. 

After sobbing almost constantly for first 72 hours, I haven't shed nearly a single tear since. How can that be? I loved my son unconditionally and with every fiber of my being and yet I've lost the ability to cry on his behalf. Hell, do I even still mourn his passing? 

To summarize the highlights of today's tour of my grief:

    A. I'm not sure that I'm actually still grieving the loss of my son
    B. I feel extremely guilty for even having the previous thought

and...

    C. I wonder if any of this will ever change or is this the way I'm going to feel for the rest of my life

Speaking of guilt, here was a random thought that I had tonight at dinner: "I should buy a lottery ticket. After the week I've had, the universe owes me one." Yeah, I'm a piece of shit. 

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