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Faking it.

No, I'm not talking about the infamous scene from 'When Harry met Sally.' That would be more fun for sure. I'm talking about the personal, societal, and economic pressure to fake some semblance of normal function.


The months that we have put between us and our loss have been full of disappointments.

They count 4 (months that is) now, for those of you aren't counting the days (118) like Steve and I.


I'm not sure if its the grief talking or if it is just my frustration at everything in the world right now. But I'm sick of feeling like we have to act a certain way to get along. I'm sick of not speaking up when things bother me (which is pretty much all the time now) because I should just be able to say something without feeling guilty about how it might make someone else feel. Other people's feelings are important, and I am by no means purposely trying to hurt anyone. Despite that, and as awful as it may sound, I don't care about anyone else's feelings right now (except Steve and Aspen of course). I just don't have that kind of energy. And, I feel as though people should understand that I don't and be gracious when I just can't deliver a smile and take yet another disappointment.


It's not that I feel like people expect us to be happy or cheerful. It's just a societal expectation that on top of everything else we are dealing with we should have to deal with all the regular crap that life hands you. Life goes on and so those things do as well. But it's too much. It's too much to think or worry about work or money. It's too much to have to manage activities of daily living (showers, eating, exercise). It is too much to give any energy to anything other than the three people left in this house. All of the rest of our energy is sucked into the giant holes in our hearts and swallowed in darkness.


Frankly, I think Steve and I deserve a medal for not losing it on every person or situation that adds (intentionally or unintentionally) to our burden. Instead, we quietly suck it up and try to move on. Because at the end of the day, does that thing that set us off really matter? In the scheme of the world, no, it doesn't. We are just tired of being shit on. We have been given enough struggle for a lifetime. And we felt that way before we lost Vail.


So, on this Monday night, I don't have any positive words of encouragement or suggestions on helping us or anyone else through their grief. All I can say is that we have been pushed as far as we can be pushed. We are over the cliff and hanging on with our fingernails. In this place, our ability to care has been completely worn out. If you end up at the wrong end of that, please accept this as my apology. I just can't fake it anymore.

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