Day 84

Back home in Georgia. No problems getting here, but things got a little tense between Dawn and I. 

I was anxious going to the airport in Tucson because we left later than I would have preferred. Our flight was scheduled to leave just before 3PM, but we didn't leave the house until 1:15. What I didn't know until we were on our way is that it was going to take nearly 40 minutes to get to the airport. It was nearly 2 by the time we there. Fortunately it took almost no time to get our bags checked and through security, but they were close to boarding our flight by the time we got to the gate. Because of all the anxiety I had about getting there on time, I was pretty keyed up by this point. My anxiety led to a miscommunication between Dawn and I as we looked for a place to get a sandwich to take with us on the plane. She thought I took off on her; I thought she wanted to go to another place because she didn't want a sandwich. After a couple of curt exchanges, we both apologized and moved on. 

Then we had another minor dust up in Atlanta while we were waiting for the bus to take us to the off-airport parking lot. After getting to our car, I turned to Dawn and said that I wasn't going to leave the lot until we resolved whatever was going on between us. She told me that I was being aggressive and that I was acting like she wasn't with me while we were in the airport. She was right of course.

Before the pandemic, I traveled all the time. As such, I know the Atlanta airport pretty well and have a mindset of how to navigate through it, a major aspect of which is to walk with a purpose and a sense of urgency. I don't know why but last night I just went into this mode by default and off I went. I didn't do it intentionally; it was just me being at the airport and going on autopilot (no pun intended). 

What I figured out soon after we got the car, is that Dawn was very upset about returning to Georgia and to our empty house. She sobbed most of the way home, the grief surging back with unstoppable force.  Her pain was palpable. I nearly lost it myself a couple of times, but told myself that I had to hold it together to get us both home. After we did arrive, we both had something to eat which helped a little. The best remedy of course was a good night sleep. Not that Dawn is doing great today, but, thankfully, she is worlds better than last night.

The sledgehammer impact of grief's return hasn't hit me yet like it did Dawn. Maybe it will tomorrow. Maybe it won't hit me at all. I don't know which is worse. I vaguely remember how shitty the former feels, but I live with the guilt of not feeling it almost every day. And I hate it. Damian meant everything to me. Why can't I mourn his loss the way Dawn does?  Part of me is starting to suspect that I'm walking away from sailing as a way to punish myself. I haven't been on a boat since before Damian died. It's been a lot of years since I've been off the water for this length of time. I've had several offers but have turned them all down. Lately I've even started telling people that I'm not going sailing again. At first I thought being on a boat would be too painful. But now I wonder if it may not be painful enough. I don't know. All I do know in this moment is that I don't want to go sailing... 

If I close my eyes and concentrate really hard, I can almost,  just almost, connect with Damian. The person I remember. My son. At some point in this process of trying to establish this connection I think my brain  throws a circuit breaker in an act of self preservation. "Nope. We can't go there. Too dangerous." Whatever is holding me back, I want it to stop. I need to feel him again. His essence. 

I am living a nightmare that I cannot wake up from. It is terrible in ways that I could never have imagined.