Numb

The human mind is a curious thing. In times of extreme stress, we can block out all but the necessities. We can become "comfortably numb" as Pink Floyd would tell us.

That's where I am today.

This morning dawned cruelly sunny and bright again today, and it took my breath away as I walked the dogs. As I have several times over the years, I found the morning walk in the woods was my time to grieve acutely, and the tears flowed without courage.

The rest of the day has been taken up with a thousand plans and preparations, tasks, diversions, phone calls. We had to pick out Kiersten's casket, the calling cards, the photos for the funeral home, the tiny pieces of jewelry where we will keep minute bits of her ashes. There was a news crew in our driveway when we arrived home. Part of the "new normal" for now, I guess. There were news crews in the driveways at my in-laws home and my father's home as well.

I was angry about that at first, but the media has, for a change, treated a tragedy with some respect. In a very odd way, this intrusion into our lives, this public grieving, has brought us some comfort.

But now, when the house is once again too quiet, I am feeling calm. Strangely so. Tomorrow, we will begin the marathon process of visiting hours, then the funeral. I expect it all to be a blur. This numbness will carry me for the time being.

God, I miss her. I miss her so much.