I can’t believe Shawn died.
My kids are with Grandma, giving me a morning of much needed rest. The house is too quiet. I wander to the kitchen for breakfast. Shawn should be somewhere in this house. He should say something out loud to me. The only noise is someone outside mowing their lawn. It aggravates me. This should not be the only noise competing with the silence inside my mind. It has almost been a year. Why does it feel like the accident occurred yesterday? When will I wake up without my first thought being, “I can’t believe?”
I look around the house and try to visualize what he would be doing if he were here. Would he be leaning against the kitchen countertop to explain his schedule for the day? Would he be pouring a cup of coffee? Would I find him in the bedroom getting ready for work? I squint my eyes to see if that helps. Maybe it will allow me to see him better. Maybe if I close my eyes altogether I can find him, if only for a brief moment.
I think the heart that has loved deeply, will never be able to completely believe in such confusing heartbreak. The mystery will always leave me questioning.