Believing

I know, logically, that there's no real hurry. I need to take my time, at least take a year, to think about things, to heal. But for some reason, I feel such urgency, like I need to do everything right now.

Maybe it's because every time I stop for a minute, scary thoughts creep in. Fear and overwhelming realization that she's gone. She's really, really gone, and everything is different. I'm different.

Who am I, now? What am I supposed to do? What am I meant to do?

And I miss her. God, I miss her so, so much. I try to make myself think about her in the life that comes after, playing and happier than she's ever been. I think she understands everything now, she knows the time will come when I'm with her once again. If  she could come back, she wouldn't. She's too happy where she is.

And time is different, there. In the blink of an eye, I'll be there. I can't wait. I really can't wait.

I haven't feared or dreaded death since the first tragedy, or the second tragedy. Now with this third awful thing, I actually look forward to it. Sometimes I feel so anxious, so impatient to go, but I know it's not my time. When it is, I'll go. I can't make myself go. There are people here who need me. Besides, there might be things I have to do, things I'm meant to do, before I can go.

This is what I tell myself, and it gets me through the day. These are my beliefs.