Just Breathe

It's been two weeks since Dawn died.  Everyone asks how I'm doing, and truth be told I've been a wreck since Dawnapalooza ended.

Until the party I was grieving but maintaining.  Because ever since Dawn got sick I was in "crisis mode" - decisions to be made, things to do, all moving forward.  I am excellent in crisis mode - when calamity strikes I am in my element.  It's why I was drawn to emergency nursing.   From her decline in Philadelphia, to her move to hospice, through her death, to planning her arrangements with the viewing and the party, I was constantly still immersed in things to do.  Grieving but filled with purpose.

I logically knew after all of the "to-do's" were over that everything would feel more final.  I knew that.  But I was not remotely prepared for the enormous gravity of that feeling.

It hit me after the final Spider Kelly song ended at Dawnapalooza.  It was like getting kicked in the chest and having all of my breath sucked away.  Literally, I couldn't breathe.  It came on so suddenly and completely.  Suddenly she was just gone.  And there was nothing to fill the space, except her absence.  It was blinding, excruciating, filled with panic, and all of my forward momentum came to a screeching halt.  Because she was just GONE.

My best friend was gone.

Yeah I've been a wreck.

Crying on the floor in the fetal position wreck.  Can't breathe.  Gutted.  It's ugly.   And I am consumed with my memories of her.  Because almost all of our best memories were together.   I know over time her light will shine through this darkness and the memories will be sweet.  Logically I get it.  But right now... right now I just want to figure out how to breathe again.