Day 63

The end of another week. The eve of another dreaded anniversary. Tomorrow will mark 9 weeks. 

As the number of days and weeks since the day that Damian died continues to climb, I struggle with feelings of guilt related to how much time I spend thinking about him. I've gotten a lot busier with work the last couple of weeks so I'm not sitting around nearly as much as I did before. When I punch out at the end of my work day, I often wonder how I could so easily dismiss him from my thoughts for so many hours at a time. If you had asked me 10 weeks ago, hypothetically speaking, what I could see myself doing after 8 weeks following such a tragedy, I probably would have said something along the lines of: "I see myself lying curled up in the fetal position not wanting to live. And staying that way until I died." And yet here I am. Going on with life. With my life. Yes, I've made some changes but it still looks a lot like what it did from the before. Even to me. Is that wrong? 

I'm assuming this is the "guilt" that comes with the stages of grief. At least for me. There is a little bit of "survivor's" guilt  - Why him and not me?! - but because Damian took his own life, that question has been turned down to a low volume. No, the larger and much louder guilt for me is definitely all about my grief and mourning not being commensurate with the significance he had on me and to my life. I see the depths of Dawn's grief and that makes it worse. I see how deeply shaken to the core she is. Me? Comparatively speaking, I'm fine. Yeah, I've been down a few times, but really deep down only once. She has been there multiple times. Is so again today. I'm embarrassed that she feels it so powerfully and I can't. All I can do is remind myself that I loved Damian with everything that I had and would willing swap places with him in an instant. 


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