That's my response to every person who asks, "How are you doing?" I mean, what am I supposed to say? I know they mean well and they probably wouldn't ask if they didn't care about me but it's a crappy situation and a crappy question.
Because the truth is that I don't think I've actually accepted it. I know that we had the service and I watched her go but it's not real. I keep thinking that I can't believe that I'll never see or talk to her again. That I'll never hear her answer the phone with that, "Hi Jacque!" she used to. It made me feel better just hearing it.
I see her everywhere. She's every woman I see. Someone dressed the way she would have at the store or an older woman who reminds me of her. I wonder if that's what she would have looked like at 70 or 80. All white hair with that grandma plumpness.
I think about calling her to ask her something or check in. Or e-mailing her. She almost always preferred to e-mail over call, which I thought odd. Even when it was time to tell us about the cancer's return, she sent an e-mail. Maybe she thought that was the best way to contact all of us at once rather than rehash it 4 times.
She always told me that she believed she wouldn't make it to 60. It was a feeling she had. I wish she wouldn't have given in to it, like it might have made a difference.
I made an appointment with a counselor. I thought it might do me some good. I'd actually been thinking about it for a while but made no steps to do anything about it.