Some things are still particularly hard for me to deal with for reasons that I don't really understand. One is my whole "camp" lifestyle in the summer. I love to be there and it has gotten easier over the course of the summer, but packing and leaving my house alone with the kids is really hard. And coming home to an empty house is particularly hard too. I know, I come home to an empty house all the time, every day that I leave to go somewhere, I come home to an empty house. So it's weird. But there is something about a Sunday night....getting home, unloading the car, gearing up for the week ahead that is so painfully sad when I do it alone.
When I go to camp, especially for more than a weekend, it takes me a lot of deep breaths to get into the car and leave my house. And I find myself deep in thought for a long time into the drive, trying to get my head on straight. Who knows when all of this will end.
I often have flashbacks of things surrounding the accident....Images that just pop into my head out of nowhere. Lately the flashbacks have been of two things.....one is seeing Joe's bike laying on the road when I drove home that day. The other is my hysterical voice on the phone with my mother after the hospital called. What an unbelievably awful, life-altering moment that was in all of ours lives....the call.
I still can't believe that this happened in my life. Sometimes I think, well my God, the worst has happened, I already got the call that most people dread, I've heard the words from a doctor that are so unimaginably awful that there is nothing that could hurt me more. But then my mind goes to my children and other people that I love, and I feel scared of it happening again.