This wound is so old and yet feels so fresh every time. I stand in this church and I mourn him still...22 years later. I try so hard to remain in the present to be supportive, be aware, be respectful to this man, to this family, but I'm 13 again and none of it feels real...again. Like I'll wake up and everything will just be a dream. I go through the motions and I say all the right things but I dont feel real and my mind is not here.
I dont think I've ever learned how to mourn and it becomes more and more apparent every time I become trapped in those moments and those memories again. It pulls me under as I try so hard to be the life support for everyone else.
What happens if I cant keep fighting? If I cant keep us all above water?
And it seems so inviting to stop trying, to give in. And the waves of loss, regret, worry, fear, anger just push harder as they feel my fight fade.
