Most days, I push it away okay.
Most days, I shake my head back and forth when I think of her, in an attempt to rattle the thoughts from my head.
Most days, I’ve accepted that I’ve lost her. Maybe not the physical her, but the real her.
All I’m left with is a shell.
All I’m left with is someone I’ve known for 35 years, but have never met before.
Just when I’ve had a week or so of most days, a feeling of panic washes over me at the most random of times. It knocks me down. It lays me out.
When the panic hits, it manifests itself in one of two ways: anger or sadness.
Mostly, I prefer the former, because it’s easier to feel the anger than the sadness. (Although, my blood pressure and twitter stream would likely disagree.)
This family of ours has dealt with too much pain and death, and mostly all at once, these past five years.
And, here we go again, into something that feels exactly the same and completely different.
The same emotions felt in a completely foreign way.
When we lost them in the plane crash, I felt a sadness that I’ll never be capable of describing with words. To this day, the mere thought of them makes me psychically ache.
With this, the sadness is equally inexplicable and painful, but it’s coupled with such intense anger at the very person I’m missing and mourning.
Sure, I was angry at the universe when we lost our Jacominis, but I was certainly never mad at them.
I am mad at her.
Mad that she’s choosing this fate. Mad that she’s shrunk my family of three down to a family of two. I’m so mad at how many people are feeling this loss and that we’re all locked in this prison with her, and I’m fucking furious that she doesn’t give a shit. I’m angry that, despite my best efforts and my fake facade, this is affecting the most important relationships in my life. And, I’m mad and disappointed at myself for being weak enough to let it.
Feeling so much anger will eat at your soul and slowly chip away at your spirit. Even so, it’s better than the sadness that lies below it.
To have someone you love so deeply be on this earth physically, yet not emotionally or mentally, is gut-wrenching. To slowly watch someone disappear, piece by painful piece, is heart-breaking. And, to have zero control over any of it? Helpless.
I’ve given love to her and I’ve given hate. I’ve been patient and I’ve lost my shit completely. I’ve opened my heart completely and handed it to her, only to have it spit at, stomped on, and thrown back at me. I’ve told her I miss her and I’ve told her to go fuck herself. Despite it all, she keeps moving farther and farther away. She’s getting smaller by the day and I can barely see her anymore.
People, with only the best of intentions, say over and over again that tough love is what it takes. They tell me to move on and not let her dictate my emotions any longer.
And, I get all that. I really get it.
At least my brain does, anyway.
But, the thing is, no one’s ever been able to tell me how the hell I’m supposed to convince my heart of all this.
It simply will not listen.
And, my greatest fear is that, much like her, it never will.