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I couldn't sleep. I remember the first digits of the digital alarm clock in our bedroom being roughly 2 hours apart each time I looked throughout the night, but there was a lot of tossing and turning between glances. I don't remember much of anything. I just know that I was alone.

Ironically, it won't stop raining outside much like in my heart. The streets are flooding. The ground is saturated and the drainage ditches look like raging rivers with white water rapids ready to brave. My day was filled with troubleshooting a problem out at a client site. Time passed quickly and I had little time to think about my situation. By late afternoon, I was back at my home office fielding phone calls from colleagues. More time passes. I see her photo and hear her in my mind, but it sounds distant as I find myself ending the day. It is like I pushed it all away for a brief period without meaning to do so... I felt guilty and sad. Guilty because she deserves to be much more than a memory in my life and sad because I had to find her at the end of my day. I'm not saying she was completely out of mind, but rather remembered in passing as if she was waiting for me at home and all was well. It wasn't until I started to end my day that the gravity of reality was set back in motion. Even still, I persisted. I wanted to run a quick errand in The Woodlands and needed some company so I called Sam to offer. I think it was around 8:15 or so when I got the call. A reporter from a local newspaper wanted to ask me some questions about Erin and encouraged a statement about what type of woman she was for the "curious". I was in complete shock. I was trembling with disbelief and waves of grief were washing over me. What furthered my confusion and awe was that I've been patiently waiting to be contacted (as promised) regarding the finalization of all paperwork associated with her accident investigation. The processes of which has held up my ability to gather her personal effects present at the time of the accident... which I still do not have to this moment. Paperwork the reporter claimed to have copies of in hand. How could a newspaper have access to paperwork before I was even made aware it was filed? How did they have my cell phone number? What sort of person can cross that boundary to turn a tragic and incredibly painful life-changing event into trivial reporting? I was devastated. I called the detective "handling" the case and left voicemail. Still in shock, I followed up with an email. I felt feel helpless. This is the world in which we exist. This is the world we leave to our children. Sorrowful.

July '06 - a rare dry moment

Okay. A handful of beers and a few sufficiently strong margaritas later, I read the arguably melodramatic ramble from earlier today. This whole experience is like a roller coaster and that was definitely somewhere in the lull of the track. I am, for all intents and purposes, as candid as I can be here without sounding ludicrous. This is an avenue for my expression and nothing more. People that are completely exhausted might say they could sleep for a hundred years, yet we know that is an obvious exaggeration to emphasize the expression of their fatigue. This is, on some estranged level, similar. I hurt all the time. I feel completely alone despite the amazing network of people that care about my wellbeing. I may think of dying in my sleep to cease the agony of my daily existence as it is felt today, but I do not actively wish for it. It is an accurate document to the magnitude of my suffering. It is completely without my intervention or guidance. I am living it. I know that my wife loved me very much and the last thing she would wish upon me is pain or suffering in any way. I am trying immensely to come to terms with what has happened and establish a direction for the future. I am failing. I don't think it is for lack of trying or adequate means. I think it is just too soon. I think the impact of it all is too close and indigestible. My heart is in the right place and my faith strengthens daily. It is the very human weakness beneath it all that nurtures my vulnerability to the lull in the proverbial track. I am but a man, am I not? Anyone can say this or that to the public eye, but to embrace what you feel in the very core of your being is the challenge to be met. I'll be okay... eventually.

so happy

Sitting at my desk at work... quiet and alone... I think about all the dreams, goals, plans, and experiences that I cherished and looked forward to in life. Every one of them was founded in my relationship and based on sharing with my wife every precious breath I had to breathe. I can't stop hurting. I wish I could turn back the clock and be there for her. There are many things that could have been done differently that day that would have prevented this from happening. I could have driven to pick her up. I could have scheduled the dogs' vet appointments such that she would have met me earlier in the afternoon to take them to the vet. I could have joined them all at the cook-out such that she wasn't alone. I could have not insisted that she not drive home afterwards since she'd been drinking. I know that it is not my fault... it's not anyone's fault... but I can't help but think that I could have done something to prevent it. I didn't protect her. It is like a knife in my heart all the time. Almost daily, I ask myself why can't just die in my sleep. I know life isn't pointless and we can all live in a way to set an example for others... to make a difference... to live like Erin did, but I see nothing but grey. I see potentially years upon decades of what amounts to me having the world ahead of me and no desire to exist without her beside me. Beyond the pain, it is depressing. I can tell myself that she is with me in my heart. I can tell myself that she is with God and without pain, suffering, etc... that she knows nothing but love. It all doesn't take away my distress. I feel selfish and guilty for not being able to let go of some of this pain. I am miserable from the moment I get up until the moment I fall asleep in the tears soaking my pillow. I've considered professional help on several occasions, even called once to schedule, but I come back to the analysis. How can someone intellectually discuss a healing process when it has nothing to do with logic or intellect? How can what someone has learned from books, school, and case studies help me when there is no way they can relate to how I feel? They can read about how someone in my position feels, they can imagine and pretend to understand how I feel, they can put strong effort into attempting to empathize, but I fear they will fall short and I'll simply feel like I'm placating those around me that want my to be there because that is what people do in these situations. It is a check mark in the stereotypical path to the land of getting on with your life. What if there is no "getting on" with my life? What if for the next 5, 10, or 60 years I live this existence? How tortuous would that be? I miss her beyond description. I miss her witty conversation and the sound of her voice. I miss her telling me her thoughts on the little things and telling me she loved me. I miss her touch and the way I felt like there was no other place on Earth for me than when I was laying close to her as she slept. I miss living to be her man and knowing that the things I did, I did for her... for us. I think a lot about this whole situation and start to shut down. It is too big for me to take all in at once. The only moments the sorrow is not overwhelming and I'm not crying out of control are those where my mind just falls into this surreal and this-can't-be-true state... like she really isn't dead... she'll be home any moment. When it catches up to me, I feel like I can't take it. I just realized that I don't even remember where I started or what I've typed, so I'm just going to click post and read it later. If it is discombobulated and rambley, so be it. I am out of tissue in my office and no way to clean up this mess I'm making.

So quiet. So alone. So much pain. I feel that my writing here is really sounding like a broken record. Like yesterday, I did nothing today. I spent some time with Henry. I cried at times as I felt the heaviness of it all upon me. I miss her so much. It's hard to breathe at times. I get lightheaded and tremble. I feel like I am waiting to die. I fear this is what there is for me. Nothingness. My four day holiday weekend was terrible. I spent it doing nothing but hurting... mostly alone at home with my pets... surrounded in a life that I can never get back. It hurts so badly. There are no words to explain what I feel, so I'll stop trying. I didn't leave the house today except for a brief drive to Whataburger with Henry for lunch because the thought of making food was overwhelming. I couldn't even let him hang out the window from my lap like usual because of the torrential downpour. The purple liriope are blooming. Before the rain we went outside and sniffed around a bit.

Henry the handsome little muffin man.

"The secret things belong to the Lord our God" - Deuteronomy 29:29

Late. Dark. Drunk. Empty. Alone. Sorrow. Silence.

"There is no greater judge of man than what he does when absolutely free to choose."

Never underestimate the gravitational properties of the couch. It's a good thing one can't overdose on Yorkie. He's tired, so he tolerates the affection. I'm not drinking to get away. There really isn't anywhere to go. Before modern anesthesia, we had whiskey. "Whiskey for my men, beer for my horses." I was thinking about the Declaration of Independence and our state as a nation. It is worth a moment of thought to parallel the Declaration of Independence as our blueprint to freedom as a nation of possibility to The Bible as a blueprint of freedom as children of God. I watched Syriana the other day and was sobered at it's accurate portrayal of the reality we live in today as a world society. It is simultaneously sad and sickening at what we have become. Abraham Lincoln once said, "We have been the recipients of the choicest bounties of Heaven; we have been preserved these many years in peace and prosperity; we have grown in numbers, wealth and power as no other nation has ever grown. But we have forgotten God. We have forgotten the gracious hand which has preserved us in peace and multiplied and enriched and strengthened us, and we have vainly imagined, in the deceitfulness of our hearts, that all these blessings were produced by some superior wisdom and virtue of our own. Intoxicated with unbroken success, we have become too self-sufficient to feel the necessity of redeeming and preserving grace, too proud to pray to the God that made us. It behooves us, then, to humble ourselves before the offended power, to confess our national sins and to pray for clemency and forgiveness." Are we not sliding down the slope? What lies at the bottom if not ruin? Anyway, I'm tired and intoxicated with the onset of carpal tunnel from clicking through countless cable channels only to find nothing at this hour but paid advertisements and sleeplessness. Hold your loved ones tight and tell them you love them if you are fortunate enough to have the blessing to do so... our independence was founded and fought for by men of virtue and fortitude upholding a belief structure losing popularity these days for modern gratification. The things we seem to take for granted today are near extinction... and everyone is too busy wrapped around triviality to care. C'est la vie on Earth.

I want to know God, not my idea of God;
I want to know my neighbor, not my idea of my neighbor;
I want to know myself, not my idea of myself.
-C.S. Lewis by way of my wife

Happy Independance Day... give thanks, reflect, evaluate. Love. Be good to each other. These can be seeds... or they can just be words. You decide.

The righteous cry, and the Lord heareth, and delivereth them out of all their troubles. The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart; and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous: but the Lord delivereth him out of them all. - Psalms 34:17-19

Today marks one month since Erin's death. Many of the days since it happened are just a blur. It feels like years have passed, but it hurts like it was yesterday. Henry wasn't having anything to do with a haircut. I gave up after the struggle. I walked down to visit with some great neighbor friends. I needed to get out for a bit, but be back before the children around the subdivision started the fireworks so the pets wouldn't be freaked out. Other than a couple of chips, I don't recall eating anything today. I talked to my father-in-law for a bit on the phone and Sean called from El Paso... half way to the land of plastic people and bad air. I still wander the house aimlessly. I ponder things I could do here or there, but can't seem to engage. I thought about going to start Erin's brand new car that is just sitting in the garage... just to turn the engine over... but I couldn't bring myself to sit in it today. My sweet baby...

When Erin volunteered at the Women's Center, she made many new friends as I mentioned previously. When they contacted me about planting a tree for her, it was then that I had the opportunity to meet many of them for the first time. Yesterday morning I got up early and attended church with one of them that had asked me to go when I go back in town. It was a nice service... a little more production that I'm used to with the full band including horns and woodwinds, electric and otherwise keyboard instruments, drums, guitars, etc... but I managed. They even had a giant theater-sized screen with a PowerPoint to guide the service and hymns. There was a focus on Independence Day and spiritual independence was cleverly tossed in to segue in and out of the sermon portion of the program. There was a lot of scary banter about the dark and terrible things you will find in hell as you should expect from a Baptist church expecting to live up to the stereotype, but it wasn't as stereotypical as I had prepared myself for... it was quite pleasant. The people were nice and welcoming. I even witnessed a baptism. Special. The lady I went with is one of those little old ladies that is made out of sugar... sweet as sweet can be. When it was over, I was on my way out and she snatched up my hand and proceeded to tell me that she was taking me to lunch. No questions asked. I guess that settled it. The two of us ate at a local pizzeria where there were a few county sheriff employees also eating. I think one of them was the officer initially on the scene when Erin's body was found, but I couldn't be sure. It made my meal uncomfortable. She and I chatted about this and that and how her daughter just gave her a Yorkie puppy for her birthday. The rest of the conversation was me repeating Erin's words about this Yorkie parenting. It is no small feat and no recommended for the casual pet owner. They are incredibly intelligent and demanding in all respects. Erin had attended a small non-denominational Christian church a few times over the last year and had always wanted us to go together, but for some reason or another that never happened. It was my fault. I told myself when she died that I would go there and she what it was that she saw... experience why she wanted us to visit. As it turns out, the service was starting just as Erin's friend, Nancy, and I were finishing up lunch. So I was off to church service number 2, but the one I really was out of the house for to begin with... Erin's. It was wonderful. Other than me not being able to stop balling the entire time (almost), it was just precious. The pastor is my kind of leader... a man I respect. The congregation was very small (less than 25 people), but it was just where I needed to be. I think I finally finished around 3:30 or 3:45 yesterday afternoon and headed home with a lot to think about. Ted came over to hang out for a bit and see how I was doing. I was ok. Eventually, Sam stopped by and we went out for about an hour or so to grab a bite to eat and a beer. Sam had some hankering to play a game of pool, so he got that out of his system. The children in my neighborhood were igniting fireworks, so I was worried about the emotional wellbeing of my pets. They get scared at the sound of the booms and bangs as they are unfamiliar with the couple-of-days-a-year festivities. When I got home I was tired and eager to sleep. I hadn't slept well the night before (again) and was ready to give it another go. This morning I laid in bed for a long time. I was on her side of the bed... where she had slept so many nights. I got up and grabbed a DDP since I'm out of Diet Coke and wasn't ready to grind a bean. I wandered the silent house like I do every morning. It is wet outside... very wet. It's been raining daily (or in this case, nightly). We have a family of woodpeckers that come by to inspect our trees each morning. I look for them when I let the dogs out to potty. Mom and Bob bought me a bat house while they were here. I always wonder if there is a tenant when I see it up there now hanging from the side of the tree. I seem to be ok in the house... just numb... until I see something that reminds me of her laugh or smile. She was so alive. She loved me and wanted to share that life with me. It is unbearable to be left here, yet I never die in my sleep. Ironic. My computer room/home office is in one of our upstairs bedrooms at the end of the hall. Every time I walk to it, I pass her little library room. It is the room that much of our wedding memories (photo albums, etc) are in as well as Erin's urn and some books that were precious to her. It's walls also display a couple of paintings she did that bring tears to my eyes when I see them. I pass that room with my head down questioning with each step if today I'm going to be strong enough to go in there or if I'm again going to say "tomorrow". I've been in many times... I just have to be ready. This weekend has been tremendously difficult. I see the moments of progress. I feel it all in between. I had a lot I wanted to write about this morning that had substance, but my sadness turned this into more of a recount of recent events in chronological sequence. Not really what I intended, but it is all I can do this morning. I miss her. I'm going to attempt to give Henry a haircut. He doesn't know (yet). I need to get out of the house for a little bit because I don't want to sit around and cry all day, but I need to be back before the fireworks start at dusk so my babies aren't terrified. Maybe I'll be better prepared to write then... maybe not. I love you Erin Lynn.

Henry and I go to sleep alone in our giant bed. The emptiness pierces consciousness and holds it up like a mast preventing the solace of night. He is hurting and confused... I can see it. Time passes. We wake up together... alone. The house is silent. It is so big and cold without her. I know it has nothing to do with square footage. He looks for her. I think she may be at the store, to be home soon, or perhaps in the other room. They are just flashes in my mind, but pass quickly and I cry. I couldn't bring myself to leave this weekend. I have Monday and Tuesday as well, but the thought of driving somewhere was overwhelming. The thought of being alone anywhere but in our home was overwhelming. Somehow, no matter how much it hurts, it is better here. Today would be a "bad day". Today my world is black. Still and again... in no particular order.