I never know when it's going to hit.
Today it was the words "the accident" from a song.
The Accident.
Tunnel vision.
I catch my breath.
I wasn't there.
Did she think of me?
Was she scared?
I can't breathe.
She couldn't breathe.
Why was nobody there?
Was she in pain?
Why did I go away?
I'm sorry I wasn't there.
I'm sorry I went away.
I'm sorry for the things I didn't do.
Why did this happen to her?
It shouldn't have happened to her.
How am I supposed to do this?
I don't know how I am going to do this.
Why was nobody there?
Was she in pain?
I wasn't there.
I should have been there.
Why did this happen to her?
It shouldn't have happened to her.
And on it goes.
I never know when it's going to hit.
Trauma lives within my bones now. It makes up the sinew of the muscles I use to put one foot in front of the other.
I try so hard to focus on her life. The beautiful life she lived. The charisma and charm and smile and big heart. And maybe that's why it feels like tunnel vision when it hits. Because it shouldn't have happened to her. It shouldn't have happened to her.