I feel like I'm floating out of my body a little bit today. In my grieving phase, I keep shifting between rage and depression. My head feels thick and heavy and I'm restless. The nitty gritty of actual life is starting to tick back through my head— another to-do list I can organize my world into. I have to answer e-mails from clients tomorrow. And maybe get on that color correction I was in the middle of when this happened. Sleep. Eat. And so on. The mechanics of life can be comforting.
I didn't mention in my last post that the funeral home had given us some of Dan's effects back. I hadn't anticipated they'd have anything more than the simple wooden cross he was in the habit of wearing around his neck. And I hadn't expected to get that back. I would have thought about leaving it with him. Too late for any of that now, isn't it?
I'd thought the police would have had his wallet and the stuff from his pockets. I forgot again to ask if he had been wearing a jacket. I don't know why that's so stupid important to me. I guess because it was cold last Tuesday night. He had a little cash and a full pack of cigarettes— he'd only smoked one. And now I have this pack of cigarettes. I should throw them out, but I'm not ready for that yet. In a related action, I took two bags of trash out of my bedroom today. It was a lot of food. I didn't realize how much I'd been eating and then just passing out. Autopilot's at least been keeping me fed and dressed. No wandering the streets naked in a raving madness for me. I'm a little disappointed. Looking this well adjusted terrifies me.