1 month out

It was odd going back to work. No one ever told me when I needed to go back. Work never said "its time to come back". After the accident the first few days were reeling with the loss, then the next week was making plans for her Celebration, then the next week was taking care of business for Jazsper. At that point I felt I needed to go back to work to regain some sort of normalcy. NORMAL a word that will never hold the same meaning. Nothing will ever be normal again, my life as I knew it will never be the same again. But I needed to start to try to function, so I told work I would be back on Monday. That was November 18th. The first day back I was in a haze. I really had no idea what I was doing and everyone was either trying to stay away from me or hugging me and crying with me. Most places of business would see people crying and hugging as an unusual sight. I, however work at a cancer facility. People cry hear every day. Family and friends are consoled here every day. People we see die frequently.  With 300+ patients coming in our doors daily, there will always be pain and sadness. But for me, it was a place of compassion.  I looked into patient's eyes who were facing death and worrying about their loved ones, and I could talk to them as someone who has actually been thru a close death. The next few days were harder, as I came back into focus I found myself constantly thinking of Korry. Cards still came to the house, along with cards on my desk. Cards of love, hope, sympathy, condolence. I am still amazed at the outpouring of love and support. Both emotionally and financially. Prayers went up from Los Angeles to Massachusetts. From Georgia to Washington. Prayers are what keep you going during all this. Prayers are the ONE thing that people can truly do to help me. There is no other way to help. No one can fix the fact that my daughter will never pull up in the yard and say "hi". But prayers can keep me from spiralling down into the dark abyss that is just outside my grasp. Jazsper keeps me from spiralling down also. Gramma has to function and be there to play with him and read him stories, give him baths and rock him to sleep. And thankfully my husband Paul is there to help keep me from spiralling down.  I do have bad days. Lots of them. I do cry on my way home almost nightly. But that is part of the grieving process I have learned. But while I am at work and at home I try to put on a happy "dealing with it" face. It is just a facade, and on occasion I am able to let it down.
I have one close friend that had a son killed in a car accident about 4-5 years ago. She has been a great help and support. And I have another close friend that I can really talk to and tell my thoughts, happy and sad to. Without them I would not make it. As wonderful as my husband is, his thoughts are that we should put away all thoughts, pictures, memories of Korry. That is how his family has always handled things when it comes to death. His father died when he was about 8 or so, and after the funeral was not mentioned again. His brother was killed in VietNam in an helicopter crash. He is rarely spoke of either. At least not by my husband.  I wish his mom and I were closer, she could probably have some empathy for my situation as she has gone thru it herself. But Paul doesn't really want me to discuss it with her. He  is so odd with things like that. You would think that having been thru death himself, he would understand, but no, he doesnt. So I am glad for my 2 close friends that I can confide in, to release my grief when necessary.