Holding it together ... barely, and I remember the date.
Mijo called me last night to see how I was doing. I had crawled in bed to sleep at 6pm. Sometimes I just don't have the emotional energy to be awake. It has been two years, and it feels like yesterday. Hell, sometimes it feels like today.
I remember that day two years ago, sort of, as the crazy anxiety, the utter helplessness ... wanting to find that ER doc and hurt him ... or at least drag him to your room to see what his lack of professionalism and malpractice had done. Ok, maybe he didn't do it, it was general ineptness.
I kept thinking you would have known what to do. I just knew that if I was the one in a hospital bed that you would have been raising hell. I was dancing on the edge of any kind of competence, calling trusted friends with medical knowledge. And still coming up empty.
At least my persistence made them talk to us, tell us the truth. You were already gone.
I feel a little bit like if I can't stop grieving that you can't be at peace. And I don't know how to just love you and remember you without being sad, heartbroken, grief stricken.
Looking forward to visiting you tomorrow in your special place, the one we found for you.
I miss you.
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