Four Years

Today is the four year anniversary of P not listening to me.

I just glanced at the clock on my wall.

It reads, 10:17 am.

Four years ago, almost at this exact time, P came into my office after having breakfast with his visiting parents.

He was happy.

Glad the rodeo was over.

Glad he was going to get a few days with his bride, best friend, and his wife, before the kids headed up to Island Park.

Glad he was going to have some time to get away from work and all the things.

The kids would be driving up in three days to join them.

He was teasing me and I was less than amused.

The last picture he took on his iPad was of me flipping him off.

He was telling me, "Sis, it's all good! Everything will be fine! I'll see you on Monday!"

Everything was not fine.

Over the next two hours, I would know that he wasn't coming back Monday.

Or, ever.

I scream, wail, cry...

I would be taken home before the media could get to me.

Two hour drive home because, obviously, the freeway was closed.

I would go home to tell my boys he was gone.

I would spend the next couple of days, working on the floor in front of his office door.

I would try not to read the articles written about the crash because most of them were not accurate anyways.

I would write letters to P and Sarah's four kids.

Triggers.

This is one of them.

So, today I am in a place of true self/false self.

Normal 

Understandable

Showing myself grace as I allow myself to feel sad, angry, anxious.

Death is a weird thing, really.

We all die.

None of us get out of here alive.

But, it sucks.

A lot.

Being sad is a healthy emotion, so long as we don't live in it.

Anger is a helpful emotion, so long as we don't live in it.

Anxiety is a valid emotion... yup, so long as we don't live in it.

Today, I'll feel whatever I need to feel.

Four years.