Have you ever had a bad toothache and went to the dentist and as the novacaine kicks in and the drill is buzzing in your ear and the tooth filings are getting sucked up your nose and you are thinking to yourself I'm sure glad I have novacaine. It makes what could be a very painful experience tolerable. You leave the dentist knowing when that novacaine wears off you are going to be uncomfortable, but you are grateful at least for the temporary reprieve. For months after the funeral I felt really nothing. I  knew the pain was coming but I was either in too much shock, disbelief, or denial to reconcile what I should feel to what I wasn't feeling. I busily went about getting "stuff" done and telling everyone how "fine" I was. While I won't apologize for handling the early days of this experience the way I did, I also can't say what is right or wrong. Now, the novacaine is slowly but surely losing its grip and I find myself much less capable to handle this loss. I find myself crying more, realizing what I have lost more, feeling more instead of pushing it to the side. People have quit asking me how I am doing, so now I find myself in the position of taking my own inventory and it is pretty hard to hide from yourself in the longterm.

I think it is very ironic when I hear people comment on how "strong" I am or how "well" I am doing. Or "I could have never made it through THAT." I didn't make it through anything. Circumstances took an unfortunate turn and I had to live through them. I didn't DO anything. If your house was burning down, would you grab a bucket of water even if it was futile if you knew your child was inside? Of course... you would probably even run inside yourself at your own peril. That is all I did... nothing more, nothing less. My way of throwing buckets of water on the fire was to do my best to show Tyler that I knew he was going to be OK - not here but with God. After he was gone, the fire was out, the emergency was past, and so I sat amongst the ashes and ruin trying to grasp what just happened. I spent the last 8 months ignoring what I felt and trying to put everyone else at ease that I wasn't going to fall apart.

So here we are, 8 months into this, and the novacaine is wearing off. The harsh truth is this hurts like hell. Things like regret and anger can cause their own emotional cancer. I haven't been to church in months. I havent' been able to bring myself to go. I talk to God plenty, but not in a very nice way. I am not ashamed to say that it is a lot like when your kids ask you for a treat in the store and you say "no." They whine, they fuss, they may throw a fit. They may try to sweet talk you and then repeat the whole cycle. You say no because they don't really need what they are asking for or it isn't good for them. This brings me to the pressing question.. did God say "no" to my prayers because I don't "need" Tyler here to fulfill His purpose for me on this earth? What a horrid thought. This makes me mad. Of course I need him - but need and want are not the same. Regardless of need and want, I do need to learn to accept. To get to this spot I have to feel and deal... so this is my new goal... feel and deal daily. This I think will help me find my way to accept.

On the line of this thinking, I put a picture of Tyler, Carter, and Cass on my desk last week. After a few days I had to get real with myself and acknowledge this wasn't something I could handle yet. It was making me a nervous wreck. At first I was going to tough it through. I felt like the "right" thing to do was to be able to look at pictures and feel good about memories, etc. The reality of it is that trying to put this grief process in a box is the wrong thing to do. So I moved the picture. I look at it periodically throughout the day but I'm not ready to have it on my desk to look at all day. I'm also heading to church tomorrow even though Carter says he doesn't want to go because it makes him think of Tyler's funeral. I guess it does for all of us. It's no different than how difficult it was to even be at home right after Tyler passed away. All I could think about was the "dying" part of his life in this house - now I find myself thinking more of the "living" he did in this house. Church is the same thing. We just need to get back in the saddle so to speak.