Sunday, September 14, 2008


They say denial is a part of the grief cycle. I think that's where I am.

I won't go up to the house to see the flattened, completely demolished land. I won't go through my recognizables tubs to see what made it through the fire. I won't look at pictures of the house. I don't want to work on our list of possessions. Truly, I would like to stick my head in the sand and pretend that this never happened.

My husband goes through the What Ifs sometimes when telling someone about that night. What if he had stayed in the house another five minutes? I can't talk about it.

I keep thinking about what we would be doing if this hadn't happened. Dan would be in school and be working on his homework tonight. I might be cooking. We would be thinking about Kellen, whose name would still be a secret, and wondering what he looked like. We wouldn't have had the ultrasound. I probably would have started cleaning the house for his homecoming. But really, I only talk about those things in my head. I know it's not my reality anymore. I just wish it were.

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