Yesterday, the beautiful and terrible Atlantic Ocean claimed the lives of two of my closest friends, while a third dear, dear friend, watched helplessly.
And after writing that sentence on Monday, my words just dried up. I have not been able to write, speak, or even think. It's been an awful week, filled with phone calls that nobody wants to receive, and a To Do list filled with items nobody wants to have to do. I have literally "worked" my way through these past four days by staying too busy to stop too long to have to think too much.
I grew up in a family that values stoicism over almost all other "virtues." It is ingrained in me to not show emotion, not "make a fuss," as my Nana would say. So I haven't. I've prepared meals, made phone calls, run errands, gathered photos, and otherwise been practical and useful. For a few more days, while there are still public gatherings to attend, I'll appear to remain "together." And then I won't be.
Unlike the generations that went before me, I'm okay with that. Well, I'm not okay with any of this. And that's the point. None of this is okay. It is awful. Simply awful. I'm supposed to feel awful. Which is good, because I do. I am heart sick. And I'm going to be for a long time.