Saturday, July 11, 2009

Welcome to the Twilight Zone.......

..that is my life after Everett.

Its a life full of bizarre and unexplainable events.

Take for instance, the other day. Driving down the highway, the four of us, on a perfectly normal, happy day. The sun is out, we're listening to music, the kids are happy, a totally pleasant moment. Then a few words from the song playing catch my subconscious, they trigger a series of flashes in my memory, images jump out at me as of from nowhere. Images of me handing Everett over to the nurse at Sick Kids when we finally had to go home, images of me incoherently mumbling "Bye Everett" through inconsolable sobs. There I am sitting in the car on a seemingly normal and happy outing with my kids and husband, and in a matter of just seconds, without anyone else in the car knowing what has happened, I go from normal to quietly sobbing, trying not to be noticed.

To onlookers it would look very strange, thankfully Elvis understands these little processes, but that doesn't mean he knows what to do with them.

For the next 20 minutes I fight to regain composure and hold back any further tears. I try to explain, in a light hearted way, that I don't know why I feel so much like crying, which is partially true, but mostly not, but I can't be bothered to explain the words of the song being triggers and the flashes of painful memories, so I don't.

Just as I seem to regain my composure, Elvis decides that he needs water the flowers on Everett's grave. Big mistake. He gets out to water and I sit staring straight ahead, not wanting to look even a bit out the corner of my eye and risk catching a glimpse of his headstone, not then. Those few minutes when Elvis was watering the flowers we planted together feel like pure torture, I can't stand to think about Everett being there, just a few feet beneath the surface, it absolutely kills me. Elvis has no clue. When he comes back to the car I am once again crying hysterically, (insert creepy Twilight Zone music here) Elvis is notably concerned and asks if I want to get out and go see "Everett". I shout "NO" through my tears louder then I intended to. But, in all honesty, the very last thing I want to do is visit Everett's grave, ever. I decide right there that sometime soon I should tell Elvis that the decision to visit Everett's grave is personal, and should be unanimous, it should never be assumed that I don't mind tagging along while we "stop by to water the flowers", its too personal a decision, I don't want it made for me, but Elvis had no way of knowing. I think because being there actually helps him, Elvis thought it might help me, given my unexplainable breakdown in the car, God bless him for trying to help.

I'm so Twilight Zone sometimes even my husband is confused by me.

Heck, I'm so confused by me!


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