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The last 24 hours have been a blur. I had to work last night in Belton, TX. I didn't want to, but it had to be done. I am struggling with getting thrown back into facing responsibilities I'm not ready to confront yet. I feel like I'm not finding my way back when I'm ready, but rather given a silent ultimatum. Rejoin the hive and buzz back to work or be gone with you. I have worked to get to where I am in my career and Erin would want me to take care of business. I want to lay around for as long as it takes and do nothing... speak only when it comes naturally... simply exist because I have to. It is textbook depression not onset by chemical imbalance, but emotional distress of the most torturous kind. I need time. I need time to allow things to settle on their own... time for the path to what lies ahead to be presented to me. I feel so rushed. Sean's brother, Benjamin, is moving to Los Angeles this week. The timing works out such that Sean can assist his brother and get back to LA in a two-birds-with-one-stone throw if he were to leave now. I didn't want him to go yet, but I understand why he must. Since I had to work just north of our capitol city, it was no problem to drive Sean to Austin on my way. We listened to rare mp3's freshly compiled by Sean for the trip and chatted a bit about this and that... the trip was as close to normal as I could hope. When we arrived in Austin, we met his mother for dinner. This is where I started degrading a bit. I have noticed that every time I come in contact with someone that I haven't seen since Erin's death, I freak out to some degree. This phenomenon is multiplied to a random varying extent if I have to elaborate on details or walk through how I'm doing and/or feeling in conversation. I've come to anticipate this, yet can not control it. Dinner was a little awkward only because I didn't want to be anti-social and despite my feeble attempts at participation, I felt that anti-social was exactly what I had become in the first few moments. When I waved goodbye as I pulled away, I felt the wetness of tears rolling down my cheeks before I made it the block and a half to the interstate ramp. Before June 3, 2006, I don't recall ever wailing in emotional pain. Lots of people have yipped at missing a nail and hitting a thumb, stubbing a toe, or touching a hot skillet... but to feel your heart being wrenched within you to the extent that sound escapes with your breath... this was new to me. It has been happening more frequently as the timeline from the accident progresses. The horrifying pain of her absence... the soulful resonance of my breaking heart... it sounds absolutely ridiculous. I don't embarrass easy, but I'm certain I would be if someone heard me. It makes me lightheaded... dizzy. I often have to begin to pull off the road for safety. It seems to happen more when I'm alone... which would be a nice segue into me being alone now except that I'm not quite done with the yesterday story. After dinner, we parted ways and I cried my way to Belton. It was about an hour before I found a roadside motel and checked in for the night. I had to be at work around 12:30 (aye emm) an thought I could catch a few winks before hand. I was wrong.

the night we were engaged (before the question)

When I got in the room, I found myself wanting to call Erin and let her know the number to my room and that I was ok. I caught myself in the realization that she wasn't home to answer... again. I talked to her a little... prayed... cried. It is a regular occurrence. I was able to drift in and out of the edge of sleep for about 2 hours before getting up for work. I worked until about 7:30 this morning... all the while, I tried to be professional and cordial... not letting my emotions get the better of me. All the while, I realized that I wasn't ready to be doing this again yet. Not yet. The cutover when extremely smoothly and everyone was happy but me. It had nothing to do with work of course. I didn't have to check out until noon, so I raced back to the hotel hoping to snuff out my consciousness for a little bit before driving all the way back to Houston alone. I woke up every 20 minutes or so... broken sleep and certainly broken hearted. Basically... broken. There were a few outbursts on the way home, but I quickly called someone if I had cell signal just to put my mind somewhere else. I stopped at Sweet Bella as I passed through The Woodlands to pick up a piece of Erin's favorite cheesecake to share with my mother. Just like her birthday, I lost it when I walked in. Same story, different time of day... err... same story, same day, different time of day. Exhausting. Anyhoo, I made it home safely and it was a relief to be back in our home... my wife's home. My mother and step-father had been Henry-sitting while I was away and they were anxious to get on the road, so here marks my first moments completely alone in the house since the shining light in my life passed away. Completely silent. Completely incomplete. I just wander from room to room... taking in the environment. Every little nuance of a hanging painting or decorative thingamabob purchased or placed by her... her signature is everywhere big and small. I am overwhelmed by it all to the point of not knowing what I am feeling... a potpourri. Her clothes. Shoes. The little dried roses in the foyer or those petals drying in the drawer. The hand painted and shaded stenciling in the dining room. Old photo albums. Carpets and candles. Grocery items in the pantry. Traces of her are everywhere around me and she is in my heart, but I can't see her. I can't gently kiss the corner of her lips as she sleeps. I can't place my hand on her stomach and watch her breathing beside me. I can't smell her hair draped across my pillow. I can't swell with pride as I watch her laugh out loud without holding back... like a child without a care. I can only love her with all that I am... if it were only enough.