Sunday, September 5, 2010


Driving in the Rain

The time it takes to accelerate from 0 to 60 mph is a commonly used performance measure for automotive acceleration.

0-60 in 5 seconds.

No, it's not a new car.

No, it is not a new turbo engine.

It didn't take a mechanical engineer to design this.

It's not something that was tested on the road.

I had a great day. In fact yesterday was as well. I had visitors both days. We cooked, we ate, we laughed, and we shared stories. Most of my guests left this early evening. My cousin and I enjoyed a movie on television, then said goodnight. I came up to my bedroom and decided to enjoy a nice warm shower. I shaved off the weekends growth from my face. I looked in the mirror and smiled. I felt good. I came back into my room, sat in my chair, and thought, I feel good. I'm okay. Then without warning it started pouring.

In the time it took for the thought to register that seven days from now will be that night, that night before, probably 5 seconds, I sank.

It is scary to realize how fast the human body can react to the realization of something so powerful, something so painful, that in 5 seconds flat you can go from 0-60.

One minute you are sighing with contentment, and within seconds you are brought to your knees.

It keeps happening. I find my breath, and then it's back. This extreme sorrow. This painful realization. I am brought to tears, sobbing uncontrollably all over again, trying with all my might not to cry out loud and wake up, or alarm, the kids. Oh how I wish I could just disappear for the next week.

Oh how I wish I could just disappear.

0-60 again.


  1. The hurricane went through this area yesterday, leaving cooler, drier weather in its wake. I worked very hard all day and got a lot done. It was the best day I've had in awhile. After finishing up and having some dinner, I sat down to go through a couple of photo albums to choose some pics to scan and use in a post that I'll be writing when I get up - it's 5 a.m. here - a friend from the PNW called around 2, so I've been up all night. Anyhow, I was feeling okay, but did have a couple of 0-60 moments while looking at the photos. Don was always so healthy and strong. So strange to look at those photos of such a healthy guy - hiking, snowshoeing, canoeing - and think of how that was all ripped away in a matter of months. That can make me quite depressed -- for him, and for me too. The world seems such a senseless and uncertain place now. I always thought there was at least a little logic to life, but now I know better. It's a painful realization.

  2. I wish I could fast forward the next 2 weeks for you Dan. What are you planning to do on the 13th? Do you mind if I send up a chinese lantern for Michael?

    I love you x

  3. I know this feeling all too well. What you described is exactly what the days surrounding the six month "anniversary" of Mike's death were like for me. I was fine... and then I wasn't fine at all. It didn't take much, just one small memory, to turn me into a sobbing, shaking mess.

    I feel for you. Wish there was something I could do that would make this easier for you... for all of us.

  4. incredible, isn't it. I left yoga this morning with an almost-peacefulness. Then - SLAM. And home in bed. Woke up hearing (somewhere in me) matt's shuffle across the floor as he puts on his sandals, and I think, for myself, "sweetie, of course you are still vomiting. It is still this nightmare." It is a lot for the body and being to absorb, and sometimes, to use a pottery metaphor, sometimes I do not think there is enough grog in my clay body to absorb the shock of intense firing at all. In the world of grief insanity, sometimes I miss the sadness when I am doing "okay," and sometimes I cringe at the small good moments, knowing the body slam is coming. Sitting here next to you, with you, my friend. We can't make it better, but we can stay right here beside you.

    Bev - same for me; matt was incredibly fit and strong, amazing to watch. How THAT man could possibly drown is just insane. No logic or order anywhere.

  5. Hey Boo, I love the idea of sending up a chinese lantern. Thank you.

    I know that I have the knowing support of all of you, just as you always have mine. The days just keep moving forward, and I'm feeling a lack of motivation to really plan out that day. I will need to be combining the realities of a school day schedule with the boys, with giving myself some time to really reflect. I think I will likely head out to the beach to be alone, and to take some of his ashes with me. I have a small bag of his ashes that go with me when ever I go somewhere that might move me to scatter some. I kind of like knowing that he is here, and he is there, and the he is carried in the wind.