Today was very bad. The reality of this loss keeps bringing me to my knees.
I was feeling pretty fragile this morning, and then, on the way to work, Nat King Cole’s The Christmas Song was playing on the radio. My mind wandered back to Christmases when Mark was a little boy, and that did me in. I went into the building sobbing and gasping for air because I couldn't breathe. The burden of my grief was crushing.
That set the pace for the rest of the day. I wore my broken heart on my sleeve, and couldn't stop crying. I kept saying to my friends, "I can't do this!" But, of course, I will.
When I got home, I received an email from Mark’s fiancée, Tamica. It was painful to read. She says she can’t seem to come to terms with the fact that Mark's not here anymore. She finds herself calling his cell phone just to hear his voice. She wrote, “I am truly thankful for you keeping in touch. You’re kind of like a surrogate. In you I still feel his love.”
That really got to me.
On a more positive note, my sister, Patti, collected Mark's personal belongings from the Sheriff's Department. That's one load off my mind. Thanks, Pat.