I wanted to thank you guys again for being so supportive and express my gratitude for having this space in which to collect my thoughts.
I felt a little better after the park. While I knew we were honoring Dan by doing something he'd have liked doing, something felt missing. Maybe it was Dan.
That hollow feeling followed me all the way to the studio. I sat at my desk and stared at nothing for a good long while. I puttered a bit, tried to make myself useful, bagged up some dirty laundry— we'd been pulling quite a few doubles to finish a tight deadline that came on the heels of another tight deadline when this happened. The couple changes of clothing (one for meetings, one for messy work, one for too warm, one for too cold) we keep in the office have gotten quite a few rotations over the past few months. And avoided answering those important from-client e-mails for a few hours.
I did get some work done on the color correction, but not as much as I would have liked. More like I messed with the post scratches rather than going into the actual CC. I didn't trust my eyes. I feel like they aren't focusing correctly yet.
My face is still swollen, but my body has hit the point of not letting me cry anymore. We'll see if that continues tomorrow. I'm eating slightly better too. These are good things, I tell myself. It's important to keep up the business of living.
I'm waiting for the point where I can stop sitting outside of my grief, dissecting it, and start actually feeling it. But, I've been through a lot of griefs already, and I know that that may not ever come.
I won't be getting very many more answers, that's for sure. Things could be tense with me and Dan— I was a parental figure for him in so many ways. He had a constant fear of disappointing me, so he'd lie to me when he was in trouble, which led to me not being able to help him, being disappointed in the lie, and being skeptical when he said he was doing well. But, I mean, I wouldn't have many more answers if that wasn't the situation. It's an unanswerable question. The more you think about it, try to apply logic to it, the more confusing things get.
And I know the psychology well enough to know that. I meant every word of the eulogy. I'm just not there all the time yet. I'm sure as shit still mad at this stupid, short-sighted decision— and subsequently sad for his pain, then angry at how we speak about depression. And I'm not sure what normal for me will mean after this, and so might never get there. Maybe I'll always burst out into tears at seemingly random intervals. Maybe I'll curse him every time I can't find a babysitter after I have kids. My pragmatism continues to disappoint me and strike others as humorous.
I suppose there's a reason I've always made a good straight man.